#the road home abnormality | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scuderiahoney · 1 year ago

Text

Lavender Haze

Oscar Piastri x insomniac!reader

Masterlist / Tangerine Pt 1 / Pt 1.5 / Pt 2

Summary: Oscar can’t sleep. The two of you try to find a solution. // A continuation of Tangerine

Word Count: 4.7k

a/n: well. I wrote smut. I reserve the right to delete this later if I decide it’s bad. but here you go! more tangerine verse!

Warnings: insomnia, sexual content (smut)

18+! minors do not interact! thank you

It’s a Tuesday, and Oscar hasn’t slept in nearly 48 hours. You know this because you’ve been with him for most of those 48 hours, and you also haven’t slept. That’s not that abnormal for you, but you’re unsure of how Oscar’s functioning.

He’s just finished up a meeting, and you’re wrapping up the last of your duties for the day. There’s a knock on your office door, and Lando pokes his head in with a worried look on his face.

“Hi,” he says. “Cute office. Um. I think maybe Oscar could use a ride home.”

“I’m fine,” your boyfriend calls from the hallway,

You raise your brows. Lando sighs and kicks the door open all the way. Oscar is standing behind him, leaning against the wall. His hair is fluffy and disheveled. His hands are tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. There are dark circles under his eyes. You wince.

“Thanks, babe,” Oscar says in response to the look on your face.

“Mate, you haven’t slept in two days, of course you look like shit,” Lando teases.

“You don’t look like shit,” you say, and Oscar forces a smile. “You just look exhausted.”

He was supposed to sleep on the flight back from Brazil to England. You’d stayed awake on the plane, unable to get your brain to shut off. Between the crazy schedule of the triple header, the changes in time zones, and his overall stress, Oscar had the same problem. Then, when the two of you got to his apartment, it had been impossible for him to sleep. His internal clock is all fucked up.

“I am exhausted,” he admits, rubbing at his eyes blearily. “Dunno how you do this all the time.”

He walks into your office, eyes darting around to all the corners. There are plants on the windowsill, a photo of you and Oscar in Tokyo pinned up on the corkboard. He smiles as he sits down in the chair across from your desk. Then he reaches and grabs the unopened Red Bull off your desk.

“Osc,” you scold, as Lando makes a noise of horror. “That’s the last thing you need right now.”

“I feel like a zombie,” he says.

“Right, and zombies can’t drive, so,” Lando says, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.

Oscar’s keys. You know Lando’s right when he hands them to you over Oscar’s head, and Oscar tries to grab them, but he’s about ten seconds behind. It’s like his brain is buffering with an insane amount of lag. Your heart aches for him.

“Okay,” you say, closing the laptop. “I think Lando’s right. I think we should get you home.”

“I’m fine,” he says, again.

He goes to say something else but gets caught up in a yawn. You reach out and take the Red Bull from his hand. He sighs. You turn to Lando.

“I’ve got him,” you tell his teammate.

“Thanks,” Lando says, and then he disappears into the hallway.

You lead Oscar out of the office shortly after that. He asks to make a stop in the break room for coffee, and you refuse. At work, the two of you are pretty hands off with each other, trying to keep things professional. But this time you grab his wrist lightly and lead him out to the parking lot. You decide to take your car and leave his here- there’s no way you trust yourself driving his car.

Oscar is quiet on the way to his apartment. He sits in the passenger seat- an odd occurrence for him. He takes your free hand in his and knits your fingers together. You brush your thumb over his skin soothingly. Normally he’d be mentioning things on the road, or pestering you about your driving, but he doesn’t. You’re a bit worried, really.

You don’t push him on it until you’re in the elevator up to his place. “You’re quiet. You okay?”

He frowns. “I’m just… this is what you feel like. Constantly.”

You sigh, your shoulders dropping. He squeezes your hand. You nudge your shoulder against his.

“Not always,” you remind him. “I slept really well for a couple weeks there. And Friday night.”

“I was really hoping that sound machine would work,” he says with a huff.

“I know,” you murmur.

The elevator doors open for his floor, and he follows you to his flat and into the entryway. If you didn’t already know, you’d be able to tell how tired he is from the way he leaves his things haphazardly in the hallway. He kicks off his shoes in front of the door, drops his backpack on the floor next to them, and tosses his jacket further down the hall. When you turn and give him a look, eyebrows raised, he covers a yawn with his hand.

“You should eat dinner,” you suggest. You reach to brush your thumb against his flushed cheek. “Why don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll start making us something.”

Oscar sighs, takes a couple unsteady steps towards you. He holds his arms out as he leans, trusting you to catch him. You do, your accompanying laugh muffled into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and lets out a long groan.

“Or we could just go to bed,” he says, voice scratchy.

“No, you need dinner,” you insist. “And a shower.”

“What, do I stink?”

“No comment.”

Oscar laughs and pulls away. He holds you at arm’s length. “Okay. Shower, dinner, bed?”

You nod.

“What are the chances tonight?” He asks.

You sigh and shrug. “Maybe a 7?”

“Not bad,” he says. “We can work with 7.”

He’d started asking you that question shortly after you first made it official. What are the chances you can fall asleep tonight? Higher numbers are better. A one means an all nighter, likely too wound up to even sit in bed with him. A 5 means you might doze on and off, likely after he’s already fallen asleep. A ten is laying down and passing out when your head hits the pillow. None of the nights so far have been a ten.

He wanders off to go take a shower, and you head to the kitchen to raid the cupboards. You still have your own apartment, but when Oscar’s here, you stay with him pretty often. You go to the races, but often fly out on different days than him due to promo events, so the two of you take your time together when you can get it.

Luckily, he’s had groceries delivered, so there’s plenty for you to work with. You cook some pasta and heat up some garlic bread, knowing if you get him to eat anything it’ll have to be quick. Plus, warm and comforting will be good, too. You hear the shower shut off just as you’re draining the pasta. You have it all plated by the time he makes it out to the kitchen, wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

He walks over and steps up behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses his face to your shoulder blade, letting out a deep sigh. You laugh and reach behind you, running your fingers through his damp hair. He makes a soft, satisfied little noise.

“Food, then sleep,” you promise.

He nods and pulls away, taking the plates to the table with him. The two of you eat quietly, his foot bumping against yours. He sits with his cheek resting on his fist, slouched over the table.

“Thanks for dinner,” he mumbles. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

You laugh and nudge him lightly with your elbow. “I know.”

After dinner, he convinces you to leave the dishes for tomorrow. He takes you by the hand and drags you to the bathroom, where you brush your teeth together. You do your skincare routines together, and then he drags you to bed. You change into pajamas while he lays down, already burying himself beneath the covers.

You fall into your normal routine. You sit down with a book and a little reading lamp, turning off the overhead lights and the lamp next to the bed. You lean against the headboard while he lays down, his head on the pillow, one arm wrapped around your thigh. You run your fingers through his hair absentmindedly as you read, waiting for him to fall asleep, waiting for yourself to feel drowsy.

Neither of those things happen.

You look down after two chapters. Usually Oscar’s fast asleep by now. His eyes are closed, but he keeps shifting, and his fingers are drawing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. You brush your thumb against his cheek, and he groans.

“Can’t sleep,” he says, opening his eyes and looking up at you.

You pout down at him. “D’you want me to turn the light off? I can go in the living room if you think that’d help.”

“No, the last thing I need is for you to not be here,” he says. “Just can’t get my brain to slow down.”

You hum, frowning deeper. You pinch his cheek lightly, then smooth your thumb over the spot. He crawls closer, nudging his head against your hip and letting out a deep sigh. Then he unwinds his arms from around your leg and stretches.

“It’s no use” he says, rubbing his face harshly. “I’ve developed insomnia by osmosis.”

You laugh, rubbing his back lightly. His cheek is squished against your leg, one eye closed. The other one is staring at you. You run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head and sigh.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, babe,” you say. “Come on, there’s gotta be something that’ll help. Let’s run through all the remedies, yeah?”

You drag him back out to the kitchen and start with chamomile tea. You turn on some calming music in the background, like a lullaby but for a grown man. He drinks the tea on the couch, and you sit next to him, running your fingers through his hair. It’s the best way you know to calm him. His eyelids don’t seem to grow heavy, though, so after a while you move on to the next one- warm milk and honey.

“If it’s all drinks I’m just gonna have to pee,” he says grumpily.

He’s leaning on your shoulder in the kitchen, like he can’t hold himself up. You know the feeling- your body gets heavy and tired but your mind doesn’t. So you hold onto him and will the milk to work. Of course, it doesn’t, and then you’re back to square one.

You find some lavender essential oils, buried in the bottom of your work bag. One of the reasons you hesitate to admit you have insomnia, to even call it that, is because of things like this. Everyone tries to offer you their foolproof home remedy, like you haven’t already tried all of them. But Oscar doesn’t have full fledged, capital I Insomnia, he’s just got a messed up sleep schedule, so maybe it’ll help. You tug the neck of his shirt down to rub it on his chest, and then you add some to his wrists too.

“Smells nice,” he says, softly. He blinks. “There’s lavender in your shampoo, isn’t there? Smells familiar.”

You blink right back at him. “Yeah. There is.”

It shouldn't be surprising that he recognizes the smell of your shampoo, but somehow it is. It’s endearing, sweet to think about.

The lavender doesn’t seem to help, so you move on. He’s already tried a warm shower, so that’s checked off the list, and he’s eaten warm food too. You pull him back to the bedroom and direct him back onto the bed. He lays on his stomach, which is what you were going to have him do anyways, but you make a little noise and tell him to sit up. You sit down on the bed next to him and shove at his hoodie.

“How about a massage?” You suggest.

It doesn’t take him long to take his shirt off after that suggestion. Oscar has Kim to help him stretch and loosen up during the race weekends, so you’ve never really suggested this. You wonder why you haven’t as he lays down and sighs happily. His toned back is spread out on the bed in front of you, the tan line painting a stark difference on his skin. You want to trace the outline of every muscle, but you refrain, even as he puts his hands above his head and you watch the way his arms flex. You grab some lotion, throw your leg over his hip so you’re straddling his upper thighs, and get to work.

You’re happy to have the chance to drag your hands along every inch of his skin, and it does seem to be working. That is, if the soft sighs and groans he’s letting out mean anything, or the way he begins to melt into the bed. You rub his shoulders and see the tension drain from his upper body. You press your hands into his lower spine and feel his muscles soften underneath your hands. His breaths even out and slow down.

You lean over and press a kiss to the back of his neck and whisper, “s’it working?”

He sighs, and when he speaks his voice is low and raspy. “It’s not not working, but…”

You frown. “But?”

He pulls one hand down from over his head and reaches for your hand. He tilts his hips up and brings your hand down to press against his bulge, and you gasp. He’s hard, probably almost uncomfortably so. You cup him in your hand and listen to the strained sigh he lets out.

“I was trying not to,” he says, “because I was actually starting to get sleepy. But your hands feel so nice, and I could feel you moving, and-“ you interrupt him with a soft squeeze of your hand, and he groans loudly. “Fuck, baby.”

“I can help with that, you know,” you say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’d be happy to. Thrilled, even. Who knows, maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

He muffles his laugh into the pillow underneath his head. When you tug at his sweatpants and slip your hand past the waistband, he groans out a “Please?”

He rolls over under you when you tell him to. You settle yourself back on his upper thighs, letting your eyes roam over his exposed chest. His eyes are half lidded- from drowsiness or arousal, you’re not sure. You run your hands up his sides smoothly. He lets out a whine.

“Please,” he sighs again.

“What do you want, baby?” You ask, pressing your thumbs into the jut of his hips.

He sighs and snuggles down into the bed. He’s laying on top of the fluffy down comforter, and he seems to sink into it. He blinks up at you and props his arm behind his head.

“I want you to be wearing less clothes,” he says, voice heavy with exhaustion. “And then I want you to ride me.”

Heat rolls down your spine. There’s something about sleepy Oscar that makes him loose lipped and eager to tell you exactly what it is he wants. You grin down at him as you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please,” he says again. His brows furrow into a tiny v, and his face looks strained.

You start to tug his shorts down. He sighs happily, props the other arm behind his head, too. He’s already leaking precum when he finally slips free of the confines of his clothing. You reach out, run a light fingertip up the hard line of him. He shudders underneath your touch. You lean down to press a kiss to the tip, and he yelps.

“M’not gonna last,” he says, voice already raw. “Just want you.”

It doesn’t take long, then, for you to do as he asked- lose your clothes and get on top of him. He reaches down when you straddle his waist and slips his hand between your legs, groaning when he feels how wet you are. Normally, he’d insist on giving you at least one orgasm before he even thought about getting to this point, but you know he’s exhausted and you’re aching for him already. You take his cock in your hand and guide it to your center, and his breath catches in his chest when you start to sink down on him.

You know almost immediately he’s right- he won’t last. You can feel him twitch as he bottoms out, and you watch the way his abs clench beneath you. You let out a soft moan at the feeling. His eyes are screwed shut, mouth dropped open. You could stay right here and stare at him for ages.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasps, already panting. “So good.”

When you start to move your hips, he starts to fall apart. His hands fall to hold onto your waist, thumbs pressing into your rib cage. You draw moans and groans out of him,echo them back to him, and practically drool at the way he arches his back and neck and rolls his head against the pillow. Everything feels so intense, like it’s all turned up a notch. You think he’s feeling it too. It’s the lack of sleep, you think, absently. You should pull all nighters together more often. You’ll tell him later.

Right now, you lean over to kiss him. His tongue is in your mouth almost immediately, messy and uncoordinated but hot nonetheless. You have your hands planted on either side of his head, and he starts to meet your hips with thrusts of his own. His hand slips between your legs again, thumb pressing at your clit, and you know you’re a goner. From the way he’s squirming underneath you, he is too.

You fall apart on top of him, your orgasm washing over you in sweet, warm waves, and you collapse into his chest when you feel him follow closely behind you, his hips bucking up against yours. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close. You rest your head on his heaving chest and breathe him in.

Minutes later, when you try to pull away, he wraps his arms tighter and groans. You laugh.

“Osc, I can’t stay here forever, I’m not that flexible,” you mumble. “And we should get cleaned up.”

He lets go, albeit reluctantly. When you pull away and off of him, he lets out a soft whine. You head to the bathroom, clean yourself up quickly and head back to the bedroom with a washcloth.

He’s laid out on the bed, eyes closed. “M’not asleep yet,” he mumbles. “But almost.”

You’re gentle when you clean him up, even more gentle when you tug the blankets out from under him so you can tuck both of you in. You decide clothes can be forgotten about, and you press yourself against his side. He sighs happily, wraps his arm around you, and promptly falls asleep. For once, in a strange turn of events, you follow behind him without much of a delay.

You wake up the next day in the early afternoon. You’re thankful today is a day off, meant to be a break from the insane schedule you’ve held for the last three weeks. Oscar’s off too, so even though you’re awake, you snuggle closer to him and close your eyes while you wait for him to wake up. You drift in and out of sleep, drowsy half dreams dancing behind your eyelids. It’s the kind of sleep you normally hate, but after sleeping for nearly eleven hours the night before, it’s alright.

Finally, you feel Oscar start to stir, and you know he’s fully woken up when his hand slides down your bare side, his palm landing on your hip. He sighs happily and squeezes at your skin.

“We should sleep like this more often,” he says cheekily, voice still rough with sleep.

You laugh, turning your head to look at him. His eyes are still closed. “You wanted to fall asleep inside me last night,” you say teasingly. “This seemed mild in comparison.”

“Yeah, we should revisit that sometime,” he says, pinching your hip just to hear you let out a squeak. Then he rolls towards you and wraps you up in his arms. “Good morning, love.”

“Afternoon, actually,” you mutter against his skin.

“Yeah, yeah, we needed it,” he says. “Did you sleep?”

You nod. “Passed out right after you, woke up just a little while ago.”

“Wow,” he says, in that signature tone of his. “Impressive.”

The two of you crawl out of bed eventually, heading for the shower together. He’d suggested it once in a hotel room to save time, insisting that you could both stay in bed longer if you consolidated and showered together. You’d nearly been late, but it’s become a habit since. He helps you rinse the conditioner from your hair, and you do the same for him. When you get out and wrap yourselves up in towels, he presses his nose to your hair and breathes in.

“No wonder I sleep so well when you’re here,” he says. “You’re a walking sleep remedy.”

“The lavender didn’t work on you,” you remind him.

He shrugs, dragging a towel through his wet hair. “Maybe it’s just you, then.”

You spend what’s left of the day with him, having a late lunch and then heading off for a walk in a nearby park. It’s chilly, but not unbearably so, and he holds your hand the whole way. As the sun begins to set, you head home, have a light dinner, and settle in to watch a movie. Before it’s even a quarter of the way done, Oscar starts to yawn. By the halfway point, he’s nodding off, his head on your shoulder.

You pause it. “Osc, babe, time for bed, yeah?”

He nods sleepily and curls further into you. You’re amazed by it, honestly. You don’t understand how he can be this tired already. You drag him off the couch and to the bathroom, where you both brush your teeth. Then he takes your hand and pulls you to the bed.

You know before you even lay down that you won’t be able to sleep. But you humor him anyways, because you know he falls asleep easier when you’re there. You curl up in bed with him, careful not to tangle yourself up in his limbs too much. It’ll make it easier to slip away when he falls asleep. He closes his eyes, and you run your hands through his hair and watch him fall asleep.

This is the kind of nice thing about having insomnia- you get a free pass on watching your boyfriend sleep. There’s something so endearing about it- the way any of his stress melts from his face, the soft rise and fall of his chest. His cheeks are slightly flushed, and you pull the blankets back just a little, sensing he must be warm. His hair is getting long, and it’s begun to fall in his face, so you smooth it off his forehead.

You do try to go to sleep, laying there with your eyes closed, counting sheep. But it doesn’t work, and you get antsy, your whole body buzzing with energy. So you slip out of bed as quietly as you can, leaving him behind with a soft kiss to his forehead. It almost makes you feel guilty, even though you know he understands.

You close the bedroom door and head for the living room. You put the tv on, leaving the volume low. You have specific shows that you watch when you can’t sleep. It’s not that they help, but more so that you’re watching other shows with Oscar, and you don’t want to watch without him.

You half watch the tv and half scroll on your phone. You have to be careful when you’re up this late with nothing to do- social media sucks you in, and it can be a dark spiral. You and Oscar aren’t public, in the sense that the public hasn’t figured out who you are. But they have seen pictures of Oscar with a mystery girl, and they don’t seem to like you very much. You avoid twitter at all costs.

Eventually, you get bored with your phone and reach for your book. You turn on the little lamp on the side table and start to read. Around 1am, the words begin to blur on the page. You close your eyes for just a moment, wondering if you might be able to fall asleep, telling yourself if you start to feel drowsy you’ll go back to bed. But as soon as your eyes are closed, your thoughts begin to race. You sigh and head for the kitchen.

In Oscar’s fridge, there’s a supply of tangerine Red Bulls. You’re pretty sure he got them for free, because they have Max and Checo’s faces all over them, but you’re not going to complain about it. You reach for a can and spin it in your hands, looking for the permanent marker.

Oscar understands the whole energy drink thing a bit more now, but he still worries. He’s taken to leaving you notes on the cans, because he knows you’re often reaching for them in the dead of night, when he’s asleep and unable to help quiet your mind. This one says: U SO PRETTY <3 in messy scrawl. You think Lando’s been helping him come up with them. Or Logan. You’re not sure. You smile, snap a quick picture of it, and head back to the couch. Then you settle back in for more reading.

At 2:13 am, you hear a noise from the hallway. Oscar appears in the doorway to the living room a few moments later, rubbing at his eye socket with his knuckles. His hair is in a state of complete disarray, one of the ankles of his sweatpants hiked up much farther on his calf than the other. He covers a yawn with his other hand.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” you say, softly. “It’s the middle of the night, what’re you doing up?”

He shrugs as he stumbles his way to the couch. “Woke up. Reached for you. Went, huh, not here. Came to find you.”

You laugh at his stilted sentences, and the sleep still coating his voice. He grimaces when he spots the can of Red Bull, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he collapses onto the couch, and in the process, onto you. He lays his head on your chest and wraps his arms around you, sighing happily.

“Better,” he says. “Can I stay for a little bit?”

You laugh and kiss the top of his head. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Mm. How ‘bout forever?” He mumbles. Before you can reply, he speaks up again. “Will you read to me?”

“Yeah,” you answer, unable to wipe the silly grin off your face. “We can go to bed if you want. Just didn’t want to wake you up.”

He shakes his head and burrows closer. “S’okay. M’comfy here. And this way you have the TV.”

So you pull a blanket off the back of the couch, lay it over him, and wrap one arm around him. You try not to think too hard about the way he meets you halfway without you ever having to ask. You open the book with one hand and trace patterns on his back with the other. You read out loud, listening to the little laughs he lets out at the dialogue.

He falls asleep before you’re through a single chapter. When you realize he’s dozed off, you lay the book on his back and listen to the soft sounds of his breathing, feel the weight of him against you and the soft puffs of air that slip over his lips. You trace the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw. You close your eyes, knowing that between the insomnia and the caffeine, you probably won’t fall asleep. But for once, your mind doesn’t begin to race. You just bask in the warmth of him, and the comfort of knowing that even in the dead of night, you’re not alone.

a/n: thanks for reading! I missed tangerine!oscar tbh

taglist : @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @ggaslyp1

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one oneshot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula 1 fluff #oscar piastri fluff #f1 fanfic #x reader #f1 x reader #Oscar piastri smut #formula one smut #f1 smut #tangerine!verse

2K notes · View notes

toruforuu · 4 months ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader || hogwarts au (18+)

wonderwall chp.3 summer’s passing

✼pairing: hogwarts au - slytherin!gojo x ravenclaw!reader

✼summary: gojo satoru, the golden boy of a famous family lineage of wizards sets his sights on you, a half blood defying his pureblood morals. he makes it a goal in his life to make yours a living hell. years of endless pestering, teasing and rivalry stretching out. as times goes on, he finds himself thinking about you more than he isn’t. he grows torn between his family’s beliefs and the forbidden ache tickling his chest whenever he sees you

✼meaning: wonderwall - the person you cannot stop thinking about (song by oasis)

✼genre/tags: hogwarts au, female reader, strangers to enemies/sort of academic rivals to forbidden lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut, pining and yearning (mostly gojo), built up tension, teasing, bickering and pestering, jealousy, slightly spoiled gojo, obsessed and lovesick gojo, both are pretty oblivious to their feelings

✼warnings: discrimination, death, grief, shitty parents, light bullying, mentions of hook ups, sexual topics, family pressure and trauma, mentions of injuries and violence, degradation, mentions of political views, escalating political situation, lgbtq representation

✼word count: 5.4k

✼chapter: 3/?

a/n: welcome and thank you for reading yet another chapter of my story! this one i am rather proud of, so much that it actually left me reminiscing about my prom. lmao, i wasn’t supposed to make myself sad. anyhow, we are finally seeing some significant shift and some corruption of their world. also gojo is kind of a jerk again, yikes

based on this // previous chapter // next chapter

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to playlist

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to vision-board

Gojo Satoru went into your fifth year reminiscing about summer which was very unlike him, hazing about the period of fruition, fulfilment and beauty. The season where you do not have to worry what day it is. A season which never captured his fondness. Was it the lack of simple magic which could be casted from the depths of the organ beating against his ribs with no actual logic behind it? Was it because he hadn’t met anyone worth making summer memorable for? Was it due to the reason it spoke a language he was never fluent in? Or perhaps it wasn’t summer he found himself thinking about throughout his free time which was mediocre at best, but he would never acknowledge that. He refused to.

Time flooded by as the students were sent off home to their families. Summer taking up its usual form of isolation from the outside world. Until one fairy night of June turned into warm July and he and his family were off to attend a meeting held in the muggle world, for it wasn’t a meeting honourable enough to be public and neither within the lines of accepted politics swirling in the wizard world. It wasn’t a meeting you wanted to be caught in by any member working for the ministry as it concerned a horrible scheming which was yet to unfold to the wizard world. The Gojo family was one of the few on the list of special picked attendees, their pureblood linage earning them a place in the gathering evil.

The three of them strode through a less busy street of the capital city where they passed hundreds of muggles hurrying through their own lives who occasionally glanced at the abnormality of their sculptured features, the discarding hardened gazes and actions of the Gojo’s spoke louder than their words ever could. Though Satoru couldn’t care less about attending the meeting, he went to keep his parents at bay and out of curiosity since he didn’t get to visit the human world often. His eyes weren’t as judgmental as his parent’s, he took in the surroundings lightly. The construction of the non wizard world looking plain and flavourless, it wasn’t anything he would admire but it wasn’t something to be hated either.

He was couple of steps behind his parents when his orbs wandered towards the other side of the pavement across the main road. That’s where he captured your frame walking down the bustling street with an older man by your side. He pieced it together quite quickly, it must have been your father. A part of him almost froze at the sight of you being so casual and carefree. It felt odd to see you in your natural habitat. One he wasn’t allowed to be a part of. Yet there you were. Only across the road from him, strolling down the street as ice cream dripped down the curve of your hand. A tote bag decorated with ton of trinkets thrown over your shoulder, bouncing against your hip as you moved. A long white linen skirt reaching down to your ankles, the fabric dangling as the wind-chime breeze hit. Your hair was put together by a clip, messily keeping it from coming undone as your lips moved while answering your father. A soft smile plastered on them — one he wasn’t used to seeing — as you laughed at your conversation. Birds chipped in the background followed by a rustling sound of cars driving by along with a mixture of sweat and citrusy perfume hanging in the air. And you, totally unbeknownst to his presence.

If he hadn’t known, he would never guess you were a wizard like him. It struck him then, you were a part of the wizard world as much as the human one. Something he hadn’t thought of before and it left him feeling somewhat uneasy.

It was his mother’s voice pulling him out of the trance he wasn’t aware he was in, causing his gaze to snap back ahead of himself. She scolded him for not paying attention, demanding an explanation. To which he frowned as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead of responding, Satoru’s head tilted in the other direction to scan the apartment buildings in order to push aside the other need to glide his eyes over to your direction again. Meanwhile his mother scanned you from the corner of her eye after she pointed your father out in the crowd of bodies. His mother didn’t press further, letting it slip regardless of her gut feeling warning her.

The memory of you in your linen skirt — similar to a myth, washed over by a wave of present haunted him. He questioned if it was a mere corruption of his own mind toying with him as he was comprehending whenever you were truly strolling down the street or if you were a creation of his fantasy after he replayed the passing moment far too many times. The reminder of your existence and how little he knew added an ode to his low opinion of summer, he wasn’t a fan of it.

Satoru navigated his free time into another direction, different from what he was used to. Rather than staying at his family mansion and spending the time by himself, he welcomed the society parades and balls his family dealt with and organised from time to time. He wasn’t lazy before, simply had no interest. Yet now, he went out of his way by seeking out distractions, meeting up with friends from school. Friends who grew up in the same aspect as he did, fed with silver spoons and whose families had a similar rank in the wizard society — filling his space with people who didn’t make him wonder endlessly as you did. He allowed himself to be swept off his feet this particular break if it meant he would be freed of the thought of you and your stupid flowy skirt.

You considered you were hallucinating for a good moment that one July evening when you picked upon a flash of artic locks shimmering due to the sunlight in the crowd. However, before you could grasp it as you blinked away the blinding sun, the thought of what you were seeing got lost in the busy street. It left a pang of confusion stirring within you, but you brushed it away as you found it immensely impossible and ridiculous to bump into him out of all people in the human world.

The first week of September rolled around soon enough and the weather turned unreasonably, insistently rainy. The sky turned grey, the air was sharp and chilly and the sun no longer beamed. The rain made the ground muddy instead and so came the bittersweet impatience of autumn again. By then, even the professors knew better than to put you and Satoru Gojo anywhere close to each other. Students from years above and below were painfully aware of your tricks against one another. And those who came quickly learnt how things worked between you. Whenever they saw it play out on the field or in the hallway.

Though the fifth year appeared to be special for one more reason. The Yule ball — an addition of sparkles, warming up the already cheery mood as Christmas was approaching. It was a diamond, casting a bright light over everybody, one so rare it outshone anything unpleasant leading up to it. You saw it as a highlight to look forward to, however, you knew such things could be marked as a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that would be carved to your memory for evermore and passed down. So it too left a sentimental hole in your chest. The moment hasn’t come by yet and you were already missing it, mourning the cruel passage of time.

Originally you looked forward to spending the evening with the three of your friends you gathered throughout the years, amongst them your dearest friend Arabella with whom you share your dorm-room and a set of twin sisters whose hair was the colour of raven’s feathers. Their eyes painted like the depths of the Forbidden forest, their frames enveloped in robes embroidered with yellow as their house was Hufflepuff, making their eyes stand out even further. Turns out life itself had other plans for the four of you. It was you who sort of torn up the first plan apart. Or rather someone else did it for you. And in hundreds of years you would not once be able to phantom a reality where the guy you had a crush on would persuade you too. But here it was.

You had first taken notice of him during practice in your third year. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were on the field together since there had been a mistake in scheduling the accessibility of it. And since then he’s been lingering in your mind, during classes as well as on quiet afternoons. It’s been almost two whole years and you haven’t mustered up the courage to speak to the Gryffindor’s beater outside of quidditch practices or matches.

The turn of events happened on a random Monday morning two weeks before the actual ball. A morning on which you somehow overslept, you never slept through your alarm so it seemed it was scripted for you to bum into the guy you took a secret liking to. You quickly mustered up a greeting as you passed him near the Astronomy tower, rushing footsteps echoing in the hallway. A sound of your name ringed through the walls which put you to an abrupt stop, turning to face the amber eyed dirty blonde beater who made your heart beat quicken with a simple gaze so hearing your name falling from his lips almost caused you an entire heart attack. The conversation was awkward at first as the guy questioned you, subtly suggesting if you managed to find yourself a date for the ball. You were utterly and wholeheartedly oblivious to his intentions so you went through embarrassing comebacks between one another. Until the Gryffindor actually decided asking you directly would be the best option. Seems like he was rather nervous about talking to you as well.

Out of overbearing shock, you stumbled out a question, asking if you were hearing him right. To which he simply laughed and nodded, the sound sending you over the edge as it charmed a genuine smile upon your lips. You accepted and just like that, your life took an unexpected turn you never would’ve seen coming.

Later that same week as the ball keept getting dangerously closer, the white haired Slytherin made sure to stop by and poke you as it was his habit.

“Why sulking? Afraid you won’t fetch yourself a date for Yule ball?” a familiar smooth voice called out which made you stop reading mid sentence and look up from your lap where you had your notes carefully sprawled out. You blinked at him as if to properly comprehend what he said before your brows furrowed automatically.

“I am not sulking, Gojo,” you replied calmly, giddy from being asked out earlier this week, but it still had a bitting undertone to it. He stood still, masked in the Slytherin’s uniform in front of you and your friends, barely sparing them any attention. His hair wasn’t neatly kept, strands of crestfallen hair peaking out of all directions. The green tie on his neck was loosened as he slightly hovered above you, his porcelain skin glowing due to the light casted at him from the nearby window. Iridescent eyes full of mischief and playfulness stared down at you. It was no doubt he was gorgeous. Both of you grew into your teenage features and it served him justice. If only his attitude had been better, possibly then you would bring yourself to admit you found him charming too. In a way.

“As a matter of a fact, I already have a date,” you shrugged nonchalantly trying to appear cool, not entirely sure why you felt the need to inform him on the situation.

“Bet you do,” he snickered, not believing a word you just said and then he was gone as quickly as he spawned. The smallest part of him thought you might be telling the truth, however, he was quick to reject that idea as his chest felt a bit heavier so he rather focused on how he’d mock you when you’d show up unescorted to the ball.

“He will be in for a shock,” the younger of the twins called Beatrice said when the mischief itself was out of earshot and all of you then laughed out loud. You fantasised of countless scenarios on how the ball would go, each one having its significance as well as the moment of truth when Gojo Satoru would realised what you said was indeed true. You were excited to have him disappointed as you would actually show up with a very real date by your side.

“Does he already have a date?” the older twin Dorothy beamed a second later, her voice dripping with curiosity as her gaze followed the boy in the distance.

“Without a doubt,” Arabella chuckled as she cut her down before she could get any wrong ideas.

It was no secret that Satoru Gojo rapidly went up on the scale of swooning the ladies as he transformed into a young man, making him a heartthrob.

He was after all the living legend and the spitting imagine of his father, so it was no-brainer why.

“You wouldn’t go out with him, would you?” your gaze tilted towards the older twin with your lips almost turned downward in disgust.

“I dunno, maybe,” she joked around while somehow still being serious. At that you simply shot her a questionable look, you weren’t able to wrap your head around the fact that not even your friends were immune to his charm. It left you feeling like an alien in an enemy territory

“What? He’s nice to look at,” she whispered in addition, her voice cracking softly with an undertone of dreaminess. To which you only huffed, not wanting to judge her or acknowledge it any further.

For Satoru Gojo it hadn’t come off as grand, the ball was simply a formal occasion he was not too thrilled to attend as he came across countless of the same kind throughout his life. It didn’t cause his days to blend together into a blur like it did for you. Actually, the dazzling wizard found himself fixated on the summer’s passing and hyperventilating over his newly discovered sense of emotions and their unknown meaning rather than a dumb ball. By that time he was all too familiar with the tingling feeling enveloping his chest whenever someone struck up a mention of you in between sentences. It wasn’t normal, something he definitely shouldn’t be feeling for someone like you. He sensed it creeping over his shoulder within the first weeks of school as winter approached. It evoked fear and swirled his emotions into a denial, refusing to put a label on the gnawing torture, choosing to stay oblivious to it all.

His two friends whose parents knew his talked him into going out to the small village of Hogsmeade on a random Saturday morning. It was the weekend before the special event which caused the entirety of Hogwarts to go a tad crazy. So it was no wonder the place was jammed, when he and his peers busted through the wooden door leading to one of the most popular pubs, as it too was only a week before everyone would depart home for the winter break.

Satoru’s gaze briefly glided over the space as he and his friends immediately went in to order at the main desk. As they waited for their order, he leaned against the bar with his elbows while chatting up his friends as well as greeting everybody whose face resigned a hint of recognition. At one point his eyes caught yours on accident, you quickly looked away into the remains of the butter-beer you were sipping on and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him.

You weren’t alone, you and the three other girls whose names were short-lived in his memory sat in the very corner of the busy place. His gaze stayed firm in your direction, pondering if you would give in and look his direction one more time. He opened his mouth about to point you out teasingly to his friends, a grin forming in the corner of his lips but the words died quickly on his tongue as the alluring presence suddenly seemed to radiate off you, the one he couldn’t cipher out.

He bit down onto his tongue, his lips sealed to keep your presence a secret from his company, deciding to leave you alone for once. Then a small soft huff identical to a smile painted his expression. He felt a nudge in his side then which forced him tear his gaze away from you, the hint of a smile dissolving.

Just this time, he thought to himself as they walked away from the bar with their order. Sitting down at one of the tables on the other side of the packed place, not daring to let his orbs wander towards you again.

Your heart drummed against your ribs, afraid he would come crashing down your little circle. A flash of relief pierced through you as the ball of white fur disappeared somewhere out of your eyesight.

The actual ball itself arrived along with the end of the week, an ending closing up yet another chapter of the school year. The Great Hall took an unusual shape during the Yule Ball. Adorned with shimmering icicles and twinkling fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. The hall was transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with elegantly draped banners and a magnificent ice sculpture centerpiece. Trees were nestled at the end of the long room, draped in snowflakes and Christmas decorations. The long tables were lavishly set with festive treats, while the magical atmosphere beamed with floating candles that illuminated the joyous celebration. And despite the cold outlook of the space, it brought nothing but warmth into the hearts of all present.

The celestial eyed wizard chose a tailored suit featuring a sleek silhouette which radiated elegance, making it perfect for a grand ball such as that. He planned on wearing something less fancy as he did not care much for the occasion, however, he was convinced by his date to switch up his original idea. The rich navy colour enhanced his features while the finely stitched details and classic lapels ensured a polished look, serving his high rank.

He was dragged by his date into the hall earlier than he would’ve liked, being one of the very first ones to appear. Satoru Gojo used that time to converse with his friends rather than the date he tagged along with him. She was in the same year as the both of you, sharing his house and more importantly belonging to a pureblood family. She was someone his parents would approve of, maybe that’s why he chose to go with her. Not that it was of any significant, he didn’t plan on keeping her around for long. Other than that, she was beautiful. Shiny jet-black hair, crystalline eyes. Slender and tall figure.

The ball was about to be marked as started by the headmaster any moment and his grin widened as he figured you were too embarrassed to show up without your imaginary date in the end. Sense of victory coursed through his veins, yet it was quick to deflate when a group of people hurried through the decorated wooden door hanging open at last second. Seven figures making their way inside with quick steps. His eyes first registered the pair of twins rushing in with their partners at the front of all the other people, then it was Arabella whom he noticed lingering behind them. He pointed you out the last as you were hidden by your friendly gathering, on purpose almost. He felt as it were July again, that one particular evening in which the weather was a bit too unbearable, and he saw you living your silly life in the streets of the capital city. Satoru remembered it vividly, you walking down the alley with your father.

Wait. He counted seven people.

He focused his sight properly, only then noticing your arm was interlocked with another. He did not appreciate how his chest battled a new unfamiliar tightening. His trance was altered by the sudden stillness of movements, everyone turning to face the headmaster. So he did the same.

The headmaster welcomed each student, wishing all a pleasant evening and nice holidays. Satoru didn’t listen, he couldn’t give a damn about a supposedly heartfelt speech which probably remained the same for centuries. A sense of urgency embodied him, eyes peaking into your direction. Capturing your beautifully dressed presence as well as the presence of your date. Of course he knew who it was. A face he saw pretty often while up in the air on his broomstick, a face he hadn’t felt like acknowledging too much. Till now.

The night went two opposite directions for you.

You were ecstatic as you couldn’t picture the night being any more perfect. Surrounded by friends, enveloped in arms of somebody for whose attention you longer for. And for the first time in eternity, your rival’s presence did not tickle you insufferably against your will.

You stood by the ridiculously stretched out tables in your dress while nearly tearing up at the headmaster’s speech. Your dress was crafted from ethereal blue tulle, set with a cascade of silver sequins that danced like stars in the night sky against the fabric. Each sequin caught the light in a different angle, charming up a touch of awe to your presence. The delicate layers of tulle added a whimsical silhouette to your frame, perfect for twirling under the soft candlelit glow. The dress too featured a fitted bodice that accentuated your waist, while the flowing skirts still allowed you to move gracefully without any trouble. Your neck was decorated with silver jewels borrowed from your mother, crafted with perfection in the human world.

The first stop of the night was a feast where you had multiple options to chose from. It took up at least an hour and a half, the hall filled with laughter and pure carefree demeanour as tunes of violin echoed through the wintery hall. The seven of you remained seated long after you finished gobbling up dinner. You filled your time together with chatter, getting to know each other. Especially you and your date. You worried at first that your conversations would be awkward and shallow, yet it reflected in the opposite way, catching you by a surprise. The flow of the conversation was smooth with no unnecessary pauses nor fake laughter. It felt natural and you could sense your heart melting into the shape of his palm.

The dance floor soon filled with couples. You gracefully accepted when your date offered you a dance with a mere charming hand gesture. You picked up your skirts, allowing him to guide you to the dance floor. Your insides nearly exploded from bliss as your hands collided together, his grip securing your upper hip in a formal manner along with your hand landing gently on his broad shoulder. You stood close to the other, bodies couple of inches apart. The world around you two was put to a pause, your eyes glued to each other and God, your cheeks started to hurt from how much you were smiling at that point.

And for the first time you were grateful to your father who was the one to teach you those basic steps of waltz, saving you from embarrassment.

Couple of meters away from you was Satoru, swaying his body in familiar steps of waltz in synchrony with his date. His hand lazily draped over her hip as his gaze nearly shamelessly wandered, flickering towards you each time an opportunity opened. The organ granting him vision glided over your frame, capturing the way your limbs moved — casting an illuminating strings of dazzling sparks, the sequins sewn to the fabric of your dress to praise for that.

You danced till your feet felt sore and your throat dry. You excused yourself then and headed towards the table with the non alcoholic punch, filling your own glass with the red-ish liquid.

“Got a spare one?” the voice of your friend Arabella called out from behind your back. You instantly handed her a cup you had just filled with a hint of smile, nodding your head for her to take it. And when she did with a sliver of hesitation, you filled up another for yourself.

You both sipped at the punch while standing by the side of the dance floor, sugary taste lingering in your mouth.

“You should ask her for a dance, she’s all alone now,” you spoke as you shot your glance towards the girl on the opposite side of the dance floor which was packed with people to the brim. Then you hazily turned to your left where Arabella was standing beside you.

“I don’t know, Y/N, it doesn’t seem like a good idea,” she replied nervously, shaking her head and fiddling with the glass in her hands clumsily. She barely looked up from the ground, refusing to meet your understanding gaze. You could only smile at her attempts to hide her frustration.

“You’ll never know if you won’t try, Ara,” you leaned in closer to her, gently placing a hand on her upper back, your voice dropping an octave causing to sound more like whisper due to the vocal music blasting.

Her body remained still, taking small shaky breaths.

“Go!” you encouraged her one more time, squeezing her flesh lightly to send her off. To your upmost surprise she barged into the pack of bodies, pushing to the other side with fierceness you rarely saw in her. As a good friend you watched over her, it was hard to map out the situation as people dance, blocking your vision of her. Your heart pumped in your chest, praying she wouldn’t be let down.

And you could relax seconds later when the dance floor was awarded with one more pair. You felt giddy for the success of your friend, sending her thumbs up as well as nodding your head proudly in approval.

Meanwhile Satoru and his group of misfits sneaked outside the Great hall to the courtyard right outside the main entrance. The cold immediately kissing his cheeks, causing them to flush pink. He and his group of friends, including his date, leaned against the stone railings and used the pillars as a cover in case some authority decided to check the outside as well. One of his friends revealed a bottle of alcohol hidden safely under the wing of his jacket. So they began passing it down between one another, the chilly feeling in his bones soon replaced with warmth rushing down his throat and spiking straight into his system. Couple of mindless mouthfuls later and he was done for.

He stumbled back inside when you were still finishing up your glass of punch, eyes steadily checking up on your friend. Unfortunately for you, the table with the punch lingered near the entrance so it wasn’t hard for him to depict you from the rest.

“Honestly? Thought you knew better than to go after someone like him,” he mumbled with sheepishness etched into his features, his usual straight posture slightly slumped and lips smudged with pink lipgloss. And it became obvious very quickly that he was under the influence, the sight of him sickened you more than usual.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked rather confused, taking a step away from him as his breath carried an essence of the substance.

“You know exactly what I mean,” the virtue himself slurred the words out slowly, looking disheveled which you never expected him to be since he looked after his imagine quite well till now.

Satoru Gojo might have not acknowledged your date much before-hand, however, he had a box ticked when it came to the guy. He was the same as him. In a sense he couldn’t put to words at that precise moment and it scared him, knowing you trusted him.

“You’re insufferable,” you hummed with a light shaking of your head, crossing your arms on your chest as you gripped your glass tighter, overcoming need to splash the sweet nectar in his perfect face swallowing you.

“You can’t let me have night for myself, can you?” the sound of your voice jolted him back to reality regardless of how unpleasant your tone pointed at him sounded.

“Just looking out for you, sweetheart,” Satoru chuckled, flashing his boyish features. The sugarcoated nickname didn’t escape your senses and neither did the colour pink painting his cheeks, the alcohol to blame this time.

He made you feel utterly stupid.

“I have things to do, so excuse me,” you breathed out heavily after a pause hung between you for an awkwardly long time as his behaviour put you at loss for words.

“Surprised someone even went out with ya,” he admits as if it were the most obvious thing while scanning your eyes. And you wished it didn’t mean anything to you, you didn’t want his words carrying meaning. Yet, it cracked your heart a little as he spoke the words into the open.

It was not anger nor irritation which bubbled in your stomach, it was dejection.

“Go to hell, Gojo,” you uttered the words bitterly before disappearing into the dance floor, leaving him to fed for himself. And once again, Satoru overcame his inner battle of emotions causing what he did best.

Malice. The only way he knew, only one he learnt.

The short-lived interaction caused the joy of the event to be plagued, leaving its unforgettable mark behind. You continued to sway your hips to the music, you laughed again and again at the stupid jokes your date cracked to cheer up your gloomy mood, you patiently listened to Arabella’s rambling about her conversation with the girl she had her eyes set on for quite some time. And in spite of that, nothing could make the strange heaviness disappear from nestling in your chest, his intrigues stealing part of the magic. Ruining the night’s sweetness.

Perhaps it would ease your mind to know the rest of the night went even worse for the popular prodigy. He went on ignoring his date, paying attention to his friends and their rather pretentious attempts at embarrassing themselves. And when he turned to face the girl beside him about to ask her if she wanted to get out of there, she was nowhere to be seen.

Leaving him to his drunken bereft and reeling.

On the other hand, you ended the night on the same note you started it on as you soon enough found yourself preoccupied with presence of your friends as well as your date.

By the end of the ball, glitter was sprawled on the floor as you sat at one of the tables, accompanied by your friends. Arabella was lying down on the table, cheek pressed against the wood while her mouth remained slightly parted as it was well past midnight, the winter break starting. She was dozing off and you couldn’t help but admire the fleeting moment. Forgotten pair of shoes thrown under the table. Last couples dancing to the slowly dying instrumental music. The chatter getting more hushed and careful with most of the people already gone.

You yearned for the ability to freeze time so you could drink the moment into your memory. Those moments. Our lives are made up of a series of moments. If one is lucky enough, they’ll get hundreds, even thousands of them. Small moments. Moments when you’re doing something so mundane you aren’t realising you’re in a moment. There are also big moments, such as this one. Some are life changing moments, we have less of those than we are aware of. And precisely those will be in your mind for awfully long time.

Keep them all safe, you heard your mother’s voice ringing in your ears and you could simply smile.

Because this was one of those moment.

credits for dividers: [@enchanthings-a @cafekitsune]

142 notes · View notes

jjaehyunnxie · 5 months ago

Text

"Look what you did to me"

manager!reader x idol!haechan, where Haechan fucks his manager in the car while the members grab food from the gas station.

! MDNI, voyeur, risky, unprotected (pls don't), hyuck talks kinda a lot

You didn’t imagine you’d find yourself in such a situation. Crammed, frozen still, trying your best not to move.

The road was fairly smooth at first. Maybe a few small bumps here and there, earning a faint whimper from Haechan who was squirm under you. Still, nothing too out of the ordinary.

When you exited the city and entered the areas where the roads weren’t fully paved, the bumps got more and more drastic. They were making you involuntarily jump and grind on Haechan’s obvious bulge poking your ass.

He was the one who insisted you sit on his lap when—by a weird coincidence—all the seats, that were usually empty, were taken up by useless junk Haechan decided to carry with him on tour. He was never the type to pack an abnormal amount of stuff, so it was all the more obvious that he did all of this on purpose.

To be fair, he always gave you slight glances, touches lingered on you for a moment too long, hands trying to find any opportunity to land on you. He had his eye on you ever since you were hired as a trainee manager only a few months ago. Something about seeing you so quick to help everyone, so worried to not get in the way of anyone, so…obedient. You were just Haechan’s type.

And he was just your type. He never missed the inappropriate glances you gave him, the way you always laughed at his jokes or how you always sat next to him at team dinners, knowing that he'll always be the one to take you home after passing out from drinking.

A fairly loud moan escapes his lips. Thankfully, the members all either had their headphones on or were fast asleep.

“I’m sorry, Hyuck…Let me—“ you try to shift your position, maybe sit in a way where it’s not entirely on his aching bulge. But his hands are quick to hold your hips still.

“Don’t move. Just…stay like this.” His voice was shaky, but you couldn’t figure out if it was because his breathing was unstable or because the car was moving so much.

Jisung, who was sitting next to Haechan, wakes up from his nap. He taps Hyuck's shoulder, “Hyung. I’m kind of hungry. Can’t we stop at a gas station for some food?” he says with a low and sleepy voice.

“Huh? Uh, yeah, sure. Tell Mark.” he answers, a bit taken aback.

Jisung nods and gets up, going to Mark to tell him he’s hungry and soon enough, the driver finds a gas station, stopping for a few minutes. Everyone exits the car, yet Haechan’s fingers were still digging into your hips, his eyes closed as he tried to take in your warmth which was so close to his painfully hard errection.

"Fucking hell, yn. Look what you did to me..." he groans in your ear, hands slowly guiding your hips so you grind on him.

You gasp, mouth opening to say something but he's quick to shut you up, covering your mouth. "Shh...You don't want the others finding out about this, do you?"

You shake your head, trying to fight back the growing arousal in your pants. "Getting wet, huh? You love this, don't you?" he didn't even need to continue moving your hips, they were moving on their own.

His fingers were quick to unbutton your jeans and pull them down, groaning at your heat. "Fuck, you're such a tease. Been thinking all 'bout you today, you know that?"

"Hyuck..!" You whisper when you feel his tip poke at your entrance. Your excitement couldn't be more obvious as your juices dripped all over his length.

"What's wrong? You don't want this? You're drooling all over me, though. Just say it. If you don't want it, then tell me to stop." his words were driving you crazy as he rubbed his tip back and forth on your slit.

"Don't stop...Fuck, please. Keep going." you beg pathetically.

Without a warning he slides his length in, stretching you out deliciously. His face digs in the crook of your neck as his arms wrap around you, thrusting upwards into you at a steady place. Lips licking at your skin and faint desperate whimpers right against your ear. It felt like he was already reaching his climax when his pace picked up speed.

Your moans get louder but his hand is quick to grip at your neck, choking your sounds as his hips drill into you. "That's right, baby. Clench onto me - fuckk...Gonna cum in your pussy. You can take it, right? You'll take it like the good girl you are." he rambles, cock twitching as it drags on your walls.

With a few more thrusts, he cums into you, filling you up and leaving you trembling and shivering from your own orgasm. When he notices the members making their way back to the car, he quickly pulls out, buttoning your jeans back and whispering mischievously in your ear. "Keep that cum in your cute pussy until we get there. Okay, princess?"

#nct #nct dream #nct hard thoughts #nct haechan smut #haechan #lee donghyuck #i need this man so bad

293 notes · View notes

weenwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Can you write Optimus, Ratchet, and Predaking with an s/o who has idiopathic Hypersomnia? (It's a sleep disorder that makes someone incredibly sleepy all the time, and no matter how much they sleep, they're always tired and are incredibly hard to wake up.)

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

If you need a gentle reminder here and there to take any prescribed medicine, he quickly adapts to reminding you. His own sense of time is rather accurate, so he usually doesn't rely on a clock to know when you remind you. If you have a timer of your own to ensure that you'll definitely remember, he'll remind you a little early each time without fail.

And ever since you've told him more about your condition, he's tried to make the base more accommodating for whenever you need to take a brief rest. The couch isn't the most comfortable, given that it's rather old and worn, so he keeps cushions, blankets, and whatever else you might need to make it more comfortable somewhere within reach.

Additionally, the reason the base is made more accommodating is because at times you have to wait for him to escort you home whenever he's out on a mission or for reconnaissance. Granted, the groundbridge is also an option, and he does request for Ratchet to bridge you back to your home at times, but you've noticed that there are periods where the team cuts back on groundbridge usage due to an energon shortage. During these times, Optimus usually escorts you back to your home early and so you don't have to wait, but in the event where you are left waiting, the couch is much more comfortable than it was when you first arrived. He's sorry to make you wait, but he's grateful for your patience.

Ratchet

Whenever you start feeling tired at the base, he's got the couch ready for you with a few pillows and blankets and he's ready to tell everyone else to keep quiet for you just as he begins to work quieter if he can. However, in the event where the main area of the base is too loud, he's moved you and the couch to his habsuite before. It's further from all the noise and its quieter there.

He'll consistently remind you to take any prescribed medication and go to bed on time every night, since he's seen in a health article that it's good to maintain a consistent sleep schedule. So if he sees that you're still active on your phone, you'd best believe he'll be on your case, telling you to go to sleep (unless he knows that you're busy with something important that night).

If your condition prevented you from obtaining a driver's license, or whenever you feel too fatigued to drive yourself someplace to do an important task or go home, he'll of course be your go-to driver as long as he's available. You'll also be doing him a service since he rarely leaves the base, so don't you dare try to assure him that you're awake enough to try and drive yourself around. As a driver you understand how important it is to remain awake and alert 24/7 on the road.

Predaking

Initially he wasn't even aware that your condition was considered abnormal. He already thought that it was strange that humans had to rest so frequently, so he hadn't thought much of your fatigue until you explained more about your condition to him. Though once or twice, he may have gotten a little concerned when it took a little more than a gentle nudge to wake you up, but it's due to his limited understanding of humans.

Whenever you take brief naps aboard the Nemesis, he's always sure to bring you to the quietest and most secluded areas of the ship so you can rest in peace. Of course it's rather hard, given the fact that the engine's whirring can be heard from every corner of the vessel, but he still tries. As such, the other vehicons around the ship quickly catch onto the message he spells out with a low warning growl and his flayed fangs, regardless of whether they see you sleeping beneath all those blankets or not.

If he hadn't been ordered to keep his identity a secret from other humans, nothing would stop him from flying you wherever you need to go whenever you're too tired. But all he can really do for you is try and help you get some rest in peace, or remind you to take your medication but he feels it isn't enough. At times like these, he's embarrassed of his own powerlessness. At the very least he can request a groundbridge to transport you home, but he wishes he could do that himself instead.

#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp ratchet #ratchet x reader #tfp predaking #predaking x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

370 notes · View notes

rynwritesstuff · 5 months ago

Text

The Cabin - Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (PIV sex, dirty talk), bickering, general creepy vibes, potential for supernatural weirdness

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Flip takes you up to the Zimmerman family cabin on a cold, wintery night.

Flip Zimmerman is no stranger to the harsh winds that come with heading up into the Colorado mountains. The air itself feels icy, almost sharp against any and all bare skin. His scruff is frosty, and in this moment, he really fucking wishes he had brought more than his usual fleece-lined jean jacket, but he wasn’t expecting to spend much time outdoors.

His trusty red truck, though, was beginning to feel strange and abnormal to drive, and sure enough, when Flip had pulled over to investigate, he found a popped tire. Embarrassingly, he’d gone into a curse-filled rant about how fucking stupid this trip is and how this isn’t how the goddamn weekend was supposed to be and, of course, how badly he hates the motherfucker who decided to leave something sharp in the road. It was all bullshit.

And you, because you loved him – and also because you were several hours away from home already – tried to calm him down, to no avail. He didn’t want to hear it, so you stopped and got back into the car like he wanted.

The sun has begun to set, and as frustrated as you feel, you must admit that you love the view of the mountains against the pink and orange sky. The snow falling creates a dusty effect on the entire view, and you’ve got half a mind to pull out your camera and take a few pictures, but you’re sure Flip wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.

You shove your hands beneath your thighs, hoping that doing this will generate some heat for them. The car is getting colder now that it’s turned off. You hum softly, looking to your right at the wooded treeline. The trees are tall and white with snow. They’re thick, too. You wonder how anyone or anything could comfortably move through such a congested forest.

“Got it!” comes Flip’s voice. You smile as he stands up.

“Good job, babe!” you say, opening the truck door. You are immediately hit with a frozen gust of wind, and you inhale sharply. “Goddamn.”

“Get back in the–”

“I’m gonna help you put this away so you can warm up,” you tell him over the wind. “Go start the car.”

Flip nods, in no mood to say ‘no’ to the idea of getting into the warm car, and walks around to his side. He gets up into the driver seat and turns the key, making the engine hum to life. The heat immediately starts up.

Movement.

Flip glances over to the right. You’re back by the bed of the truck, he notes, and his brows furrow. The trees seem to rustle as something scurries back into the wilderness. Flip gets out of the truck.

“Here,” he says, keeping his eye on the treeline as he opens your door for you. “I’ll get the rest.”

“You sure?” you ask. Flip nods, and he seems insistent, so you oblige. He quickly finishes loading everything back into the truck bed before getting back into the truck. He locks the doors, which you find odd but not terribly concerning, and he buckles his seatbelt as the hot air blows.

“Look at me?” you say. Flip turns to you, one hand on the wheel as he prepares to continue up the mountain. You smile at his red face, then cup his cheeks with your warm hands. You give him a quick kiss.

“This is fine,” you tell him. He nods. “This doesn’t ruin anything.” He nods again. “And I kinda like seein’ you work on the truck, it’s hot.”

Flip cracks a smile at this, then gives you another kiss.

“I’ll show you ‘hot’ once we get up to the cabin,” he says. You chuckle.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Detective.”

Flip hums and presses on the gas. The truck surges forward up the snowy mountain road.

The famous Zimmerman cabin is a place you’ve been hearing about since you and Flip began to date. He’s mentioned it countless times, telling you about all of his summers and winters spent there with his family. So much sledding, so much fishing, so much love was experienced there. You’d always sort of wondered if he was talking out of his ass about the whole thing; the two of you have been together for almost six months, now, you figured that any time was a good time, but not Flip. No, he’s too much of a perfectionist. He takes pride in doing things right, so he waited until you really, really needed a break from work to propose a weekend getaway up in the mountains at the Zimmerman family cabin, just the two of you.

When his truck starts up the path, you immediately notice just how wooded it is – it’s almost the same as the forest you’d seen earlier, down by where Flip was changing the tire.

“Did you and your cousins used to play out here?” you ask as gravel and snow crunch beneath the truck’s tires. Flip smiles.

“All the time,” he says. “Hide n’ seek was our favorite.”

“This seems like a good place for hide n’ seek.”

“It was,” he nods. “It would be a group of six or seven of us out here at night–”

“At night? Here, in the woods?”

“Fuck yeah, it was terrifying!” Flip laughs. “We loved it. The worst was being found last.”

“How’s that?”

“You just know there’s a pack out there lookin’ for you. All you could hear was your own breathing and the little fuckin’ bugs, and you’d hear their footsteps getting closer, and closer, and sometimes they’d sneak up on you just to scare the shit outta you . . .” Flip chuckles. “I loved it.”

You shudder.

“I think I’d be too freaked out.”

“Well, luckily we don’t have to play,” Flip says as he pulls up to the cabin. You look up, brows raised as you take in the sight. It’s bigger than you thought, with beautiful woodwork and a vintage feel. You smile.

“Oh, wow,” you say, looking out the window as Flip parks the truck and turns it off. “It’s so pretty.”

“It’s even better inside. C’mon, help me so we don’t have to take two trips.”

The two of you get out of the truck. You try to ignore the strange feeling you have in your gut. You can’t quite place the feeling, but you know you’d like to get inside. After all, the sun has almost completely set, and visibility is low due to the thick trees.

You take your bags and Flip takes his. Snow cracks underfoot as you trudge up to the front door. Flip unlocks it, and you step inside. You smile brightly as Flip comes in behind you. You listen to him re-lock the door as you look over the cabin’s interior.

The sitting area and kitchen flow together, clearly meaning to make the entire first floor feel social and open. The hardwood floors are beautiful and solid. A large rug sits in the center of couches and chairs facing one another. An old TV sits on a television stand at the front of the room. A hallway is visible, leading to, presumably, a bathroom. Closer to the kitchen is another hallway, which leads to a dining room.

You turn to the left, running your hand along the railing of the stairs as Flip walks around turning on lights. You start upstairs. The steps creak as you go. The second floor of the cabin is loft-style: The entire first floor is visible if you simply peer over the rail wrapping along the large landing. You count three bedrooms and a second bathroom upstairs before Flip comes up behind you with his own bags.

“Master bedroom’s down here,” he says, stepping in front of you and turning on more lights. You follow him down the hall and into the bedroom. It’s large and spacious, with a nice, big window overlooking the side yard of the cabin.

“There’s a firepit out back, but it’s too cold to use, I think,” Flip says. “Unless you really fuckin’ want a fire.”

You smile, setting your bags down and walking towards him.

“What I really want is you, Detective Zimmerman,” you say, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Flip drops his bags and puts his hands on your hips. You smile up at him with a twinkle in your eye that he could recognize anywhere.

“You’re all worked up already?” Flip asks, smiling softly. You sway teasingly, your hips moving from side to side as flip continues to hold them. “I can’t help it. You just look so fucking good . . .”

Flip’s hands slide down lower to grip your ass, and your smile widens. He kisses you, then, and your mouth works against his desperately. Your hands slide up along his cheeks as he tugs you closer. The heat of his body draws you in and makes you hunger for him. His erection is present and obvious, and you let one of your hands slide down to hold him.

“You’re worked up, too,” you breathe as he runs his teeth along your jaw and pushes your jacket off your shoulders. Your arms fall back so that the jacket can hit the ground, then you touch him again. Flip’s breath catches.

“‘Cause you’re kissin’ me like that,” Flip says. His large hands give your ass a squeeze, and you press yourself against him solidly. You push off his jacket and it falls down beside his bags.

Flip’s hands travel up your body, and he pulls at your shirt. You know exactly what he wants, and you have half a mind to tease him, but you want it, too. You let him pull your shirt up over your head, and he throws it into the pile of bags and clothes already on the floor.

“Mmm, very forward today, Detective . . .”

You step back towards the bed, then sit down on it. You take a moment to remove your boots while Flip does the same, and once his boots are off, he’s on you, his hands pressing against your breasts firmly. He fits his body between your legs, leaning back only to remove your pants and underwear for you. You grind up against his belt buckle, shuddering at the coldness of it while Flip squeezes your thigh and kisses along your jaw.

“Take your fuckin’ pants off,” you breathe, a hand in his hair as he kisses your skin. He chuckles quietly, but leans back anyway. His hands go to his belt, and he undoes it. Watching Flip undress always makes you feel lucky, and you suspect it always will. Outside, the wind blows and howls and whistles. You feel cozy and warm inside, especially now that Flip is naked from the waist down. You run your hands along his skin as he gets on top of you again.

Your legs spread for him, and this serves as an invitation for him to make himself comfortable. He brings a hand to his erection, gives it a few strokes, then presses his tip against your entrance. You hum, smiling up at him.

“C’mon, don’t tease me,” you say, tugging on his hair.

“Why not? It’s so much fun.”

You hit his chest playfully.

“You’re a sadist,” you tell him, lifting your hips. “Get on with it, Detective. I haven’t got all–”

He thrusts in, cutting you off. You gasp as he begins to rock his hips steadily. Your core clenches around him, and Flip grunts. Your breasts bounce, the bed creaks. You close your eyes and think of all the poor fuckin’ people who’ll never get to have this. This . . . Damn, this is as close to bliss as you’ll ever be. Your head falls back, your eyes roll. You feel Flip’s hands on your wrists, pinning you down as he fucks you into the squeaky mattress.

“O-Oh shit,” you breathe. Flip grunts and sighs above you, his hair falling into his face. He looks so handsome like this. “I love you.”

Flip kisses you, then nips at your bottom lip.

“I love you, too, babe,” Flip says. “Mm. S-So fuckin’ wet . . .”

You laugh softly, shakily.

“How romantic,” you sigh. “Ohhh, fuck, Flip . . .”

His thrusts are getting fast and sloppy and hard, and you clench your hands into fists where he holds you down. You lift your hips again, and when his cock hits you at a new angle, a better angle, you groan. It only encourages him. He loves knowing that he’s making his girl feel good. He loves knowing when you're enjoying yourself.

You lean up and kiss him again. Tree branches brush against the cabin angrily, hitting the windows and the wooden exterior, but you pay it no mind. A moan escapes you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck–”

Pop!

Darkness.

You startle. Flip’s hips halt suddenly, and the only sound that is audible is the sound of breathing. You can’t even see Flip, who is mere inches in front of you. You cling to him in the dark, holding his hands.

“Flip?”

“I know.”

“Was it the wind?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll have to check the fuse box.”

“Where’s that?”

“Out back.”

You weren’t scared when you arrived, not really anyway, but it’s totally dark outside now, and the idea of accompanying Flip out into the yard sends a chill over your nude body. Still, you know you should offer. You feel him pull out with a grunt, and the weight on the bed shifts as he gets off. You reach into the dark, but it's no use. You can’t see a damn thing. You let out a shaky breath as you listen to Flip rummaging through something – the bedside drawer, perhaps? – and before you know it, a dim light fills the bedroom. He’s found a flashlight.

“Toss me my stuff,” you tell him, pointing to your clothes on the ground. He does so, and you begin to get dressed as he sets the flashlight down and begins to do the same.

“You can stay here while I go outside,” Flip says. “I should be right back and we can finish this.”

“You don’t want me to come with?” you ask. The wind is persistent and harsh outside, and for a moment, you foolishly wonder if the windows are going to shatter from the force of it. Flip shakes his head.

“No, no. It’s bad out there.”

“Is there another flashlight?” you ask. Flip nods, then points to the other bedside table.

“Should be one in there.”

You crawl across the bed to open the drawer, and sure enough, there’s an old flashlight inside. You turn it on. It’s a bit brighter than Flip’s. You pull on your shirt, then your underwear, then wrap the blanket around yourself. When you look up again, Flip is fully dressed.

“Hurry back,” you say. Flip nods, then gives you a quick kiss as he pulls on his jacket.

“I will.”

He leaves. You listen to his footsteps recede until you can no longer hear them, and then you wait. The cabin is completely silent, almost eerily so. You look over at the window. Outside, you can see the snow and the faint shadow of the trees shaking from the wind. You pull the blanket tighter.

You hear it, then. A loud thud, a thud so loud that you swear you feel the walls shake. And then–

A yell.

You startle.

“Flip?!” you call into the darkness, holding your flashlight. No response comes, and you stand up quickly.

“Flip?” you call again, louder this time. Once again, no response. Your heart sinks, and a dreadful feeling washes over you.

What happened to him?

Tagging some besties: @mrs-gucci @safarigirlsp @babbushka

Dividers by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #adam driver #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman fluff #blackkklansman fanfiction #blackkklansman adam driver #adam driver blackkklansman #blackkklansman #my writing #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver smut #horror #flip zimmerman horror

93 notes · View notes

chezzywezzy · 1 month ago

Text

Yandere Edward Cullen (5/8)

*TW for threat of external SA, not love interest

WC: 2k

R assumed that Edward would be hot on her tail, but as she reversed out of the lot, she made brief eye contact with him from the open doorway. His bright red eyes shone, even in the shadow of the setting sun.

R high-tailed it to Forks and then right through it. She was uncertain of how to deal with the situation - nobody would ever believe her if she told, and then her head would be ripped off. She doubted she could run or hide for long, but that seemed to be the only option. God knows where she would go, even just to rest a night, but she had to get away to think of some sort of temporary solution.

At some point as she took winding backroads through dense, dark forest, she slowed. She cast her wary gaze to the various mirrors and windows, hardly spotting anything abnormal. R let out a shaky sigh, blinking away the blurriness. She noticed the blinking red fuel icon. R gulped. She wasn’t too familiar of where she was or how far she had driven, but it worried her. With a flip of her phone she could assess the lack of cell service, and couldn’t even turn around because she had been on a winding backroad through the mountain for far longer than she had gas to spare. Her only option was to keep to the road and hope for a miracle.

R wished she had cleared her mind sooner to truly identify a route that didn’t lead to a thin dirt and gravel road. It felt like a dead end right toward her demise. She felt trapped and powerless.

A few miles further, and then the car slowly rolled to a stop. R was so angry. She slammed her hands onto the horn, releasing a deafening, prolonged hike. Steaming tears rolled down her face and she let out a shriek.

She was a fraud, but she was pissed. R had been so calculated when considering a new town, a new college, a new community. But she was damned to hell anyways because control was never her’s - it was some possessive beast’s.

After the anger as the engine shut down and she was shrouded in darkness, the moon or stars hardly making a peak, the sadness and despair returned. It was like some fucked up baby trap except worse - no law could prevent that monster from controlling her. Whether he was mad enough to murder her or lovestruck enough to keep her contained, both options sounded hellish.

She almost wished he had followed. R was beginning to question if he had, or if he had known she would strand herself out in the middle of nowhere to rot. Even from the firmly shut windows and doors, the sounds of cicadas rang out from the wilderness. R felt less alone with the bugs at least. But she couldn’t see beyond her meager cell screen, revealing an inch or two out the window.

R sat and contemplated not only the various fates to come, but also what she could have done better. Keeping an extra gas canister and flashlight should have been a must. She was so focused on making Forks a secure home for herself she did not consider reinforcing the way to escape it. R felt like an idiot.

On one end, a car could happen to roll by and assist or murder her. Or Edward would. Or in the morning she would have to hoof it to any signal and either die of dehydration or get mauled by a bear. None sounded like a painless demise.

R’s body was exhausted, but her mind was racing and alert, aware of every gust of wind and every silence.Every shadow that appeared darker than the rest. Her mind raced, and as much as she wanted to spew her thoughts out loud, her throat was dry.

The one goddamn time it wasn’t raining in Washington was the one time she needed it.

~~~

“Ma’am?”

A muffled voice suddenly awoke her from her slumber. She was immediately electrified from her cramping neck, but it shot up to meet a roughen middle-aged man with a blaring, beat up red pickup truck. It had been coming in from the opposite direction, but a spark of hope reared in the woman.

“Ma’am! Are you alright?” He had a southern accent, something somewhat foreign in the area. “Gee, I thought ya was dead.”

“Sir…!” R exclaimed, brushing the hair out of her face. “My car ran out of gas - I lost direction of where I was and there’s no signal - can you help me?”

A flash of recognition crossed his face. “I know you.”

R gulped, pulling her key out of the ignition. “From… from what?”

His smile, hardly visible from under his thick beard, pulled into a knowing sneer. “Ya’re quite a treat to find all the way out here. What luck. I guess a scummy whore like ya wouldn’t remember a chap like me, huh?”

R stayed silent, withdrawing from her position in the front seat, sliding further away from the man.

“Ya know, it’s your reason my fuckin’ wife left me,” the man cackled me. “I lost everything ‘cause of ya. My farm down south, my assets, friends ’n family. All ‘cause a minx like ya drained my wallet and my wife found the receipts. That ain’t worth it when I didn’t even get to see your tits.”

Sorrow filled her eyes. Silence was the best option - she knew a man on the edge wouldn’t listen to pleas, reason, or retaliation.

“Ya stay right there for a moment, ya little slut,” the man cackled. He muttered on his way back to the truck,” God, what a lucky day. The Lord must be smiling down on me.”

R knew a man of his degree of redneck carried a shotgun in the passenger seat. She reached over to the passenger seat and threw the door open, clawing right out. As her body hit the gravel, a shot barely passed where her head just was.

“Fuck,” the man cursed, filling the barrel. “Ya know, I’m gonna collect what I paid for - it’s your choice whether it’s dead or alive.”

R knew enough about guns that she had mere seconds. Her ankles weighed with fear as she shot into the dark wilderness in front of her. A bullet skimmed right past her ear, deafening and leaving a wet cut. She began weaving and dodging through the wilderness. As much as she tried to quiet herself in the silent woods, distance was priority. Especially the moment a bright beam cut through the wilderness, lighting her path.

The wilderness was becoming denser and thicker, but she was still faster than the man who had to manhandle a gun, flashlight, and potbelly while keeping up. Branches tore at her sweater, and the early spiring air nipped at her skin.The temperature was far colder than it had been in the insulated vehicle, and her sweat froze on her forehead.

The brush and trees were growing so dense throughout the missed gunshots that it was slowing her down - she had to squeeze between snapping branches and pull her feet from deep puddles of snow turned to slush. Granted, the man wasn’t doing any better, but he had a long range weapon.

Another gunshot rang - and despite it brushing past her arm, it was the final undoing for the thin and dying pine tree, crushing R as it fell.

A rang and dark spots clouded her head and vision. Her breath sputtered as the neck collided onto a small yet flat rock, doing less damage than it could have. The needles stuck into her clothing and tickled her skin.

R screamed and flailed and cried, trying to push the surprisingly heavy tree off her. She could feel the damage to her spine as it was. Her throat cracked and she lay, defeated. She wished Edward had torn her to shreds. Even a monster like him would never leave her to such a cruel fate. She was about to be raped and murdered and abandoned in the woods to never be found. Her life was over.

A cold piece of metal prodded at her head. “Damn, you’re feisty for a whore. Ain’t your job to please the paying customer?”

R remained silent, squeezing tears out. “Please…”

The man guffawed. “Maybe I’ll leave ya alive if ya please me enough. But I’m a hard customer to please, girly. Especially when you made yourself ugly with so much… grime, heh. Now, don’t go anywhere or you’re dead.”

R felt the tree lift off of her. As a last minute hope for death, she sat up and made a motion to escape.

A gunshot escaped and R clamped her eyes shut.

For the longest time, she stayed there in the darkness, awaiting any sensation of pain. Or perhaps death had been immediate. R lost track of time of how long she stayed frozen and sat, feeling the sensation of needles and pine cones and mud under her finger tips, and the sudden sensation of rain. But all was silent.

As tears mixed with the rain, she slowly opened her eyes. All was silent around her, even the cicadas. R gulped. Slowly, she adjusted herself. She spotted a glint of silver lodged in the ground beside her.

As she turned, she was taken aback. Red was everywhere. On her sweater, on the ground, on the corpse, and on his dislodged head. More importantly, his eyes were brilliant red as Edward towered in the darkness, holding the head. Silent as a mouse, the creature lodged his mouth into the dripping faucet from the man’s tear. Edward did not seem human in that moment, but that was much preferred from what she had just experienced.

She sat there and watched him indulge , scampering anomalistically toward every orifice and puddle, draining the body until it was empty. R observed. The flashlight, long abandoned, was hardly as bright as his bloodthirsty eyes. Edward acted as if a starving man, although this was the first real meal he’d had in decades.

Edward’s brain was muffled as he worked through the frenzy. So many emotions and so many voices. Most dominantly, Carlisle’s, having warned him after Alice’s vision to leave R be - that if he went down a route of darkness and possession, he was no longer welcome as a Cullen. Alice had seen, and Edward had denied it. Every step brought him closer to her, and surely, protecting R would be worth risking it all.

He had not killed in a century. But the rush hardly compared to what he felt with her. Edward did not know how he could have done things differently, because deep down, he was a selfish creature from hell.

“Edward…”

His eyes shot up, and R flinched, worried he would rush at her, too. But her fear made his heart soften and his frenzy end. As delicious as her blood smelled, it could he hardly compare to the instinctual possession he felt of her, his twisted notion of loneliness and love combined.

“I’m sorry I was not here sooner, my love.”

R slouched, feeling all of her bones creek and all her wounds bleed. A chance at life presented itself through death, but one she felt so numb to that all she wanted was a warm shower and bed.

“I… I want to go home. Please.”

Edward straightened himself out before crouching in front of the woman, wiping her dirty tears away. His hands trailed down and he was still so angry and appalled at himself. If he had been more assertive, a wound would never had appeared as she wouldn’t have even escaped the house.

“Of course…”

Without struggle, his arms dipped beneath her and lifted her as though she were a paper. R’s head hit the stone cold chest, but she was so pumped with exhaustive adrenaline that the cold had numbed her skin. Edward draped his jacket over her and the world flashed around her. Hardly a branch touched her body as the forest raced past her.

R felt a deep sleep encumber her at the sound of his slowly beating heart.

#yandere #x reader #x y/n #self insert #yandere x reader #twilight #twilight x reader #horror #yandere twilight #edward cullen #yandere edward cullen #edward cullen x reader

77 notes · View notes

vee-vee-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Bilbo's Little Sapling (Company x Bilbo's daughter!reader)

Request by @that-teen2003: "Reader (adult) is bilbos daughter (yes biological) readers mother and bilbo had a one night stand and reader was given to bilbo. When the company arrived to bilbos they all take notice of some things not really meant for a hobbit hole, but they don’t question bilbo. Once everyone is there they bring up how bilbo will help them, but he says no because he has his baby girl to look after. The company along with Gandalf and shocked, bilbo goes on and says his little sapling cant be alone. They all here this and slightly back off, but still persistent, but image there shock when his daughter walks through the door, taller then Gandalf and bloody from the deer she hunted. She ends up joining her father one the quest, but not without a few of the dwarfs flirting with her along the way, as well as them finding out how scary a father hobbit can be when it comes to his daughter."

Notes: I really hope you like it! I intend to write a part two to fit the last bit of your request about protective dad Bilbo :)

Read Bilbo's daughter POV

The rolling hills and greens of the Shire were nothing like this company of dwarves were used to. Here the folk seemed gentle, as if hardship and horror had never tainted a single day of their lives, and only somewhat weary to strangers. Each home built gently into the green hills and rich earth of the Shire, small well-kept gardens framing their doorways. However, one hobbit hole stood out as a stark contrast to the rest.

Bag End had all the notable features of a luxurious hobbit hole. Framed with plush greens and scatterings of blooming flowers, a large front lawn, and a twine woven fence, it was a peaceful sight that any respectable hobbit would be jealous of. However, each dwarf who trekked up the small dirt stairs noted some oddities. The most notable was the large axe propped up in the entrance way. It was far to big for the average hobbit and was most certainly not of dwarven craft. No, it had to belong to a human but what it was doing there was a mystery. By all accounts the race of man did not live in the Shire, with Bree being the closest settlement.

Yet each shrugged it off, as long as Gandalf or the hobbit hadn’t invited any unwanted guests then there was no reason to think to deeply upon it. Still, one could not help but spot similar oddities throughout the home as they made themselves comfortable. The abnormally big armchair, fine china sets that could feed two hobbits at a time, and the pair of boots that Bofur had stumbled over when he’d entered. What hobbit wore shoes?

Nevertheless, they kept their opinions to themselves after finding Bilbo to be the only occupant. Feasting, drinking, belching, and merriment ensued as the dwarven band dined in a luxury they were seldom afforded. While the arrival of Thorin certainly had muted the celebrations considerably, excitement still ran high at the prospect of beginning the journey for the reclamation of their home.

The refusal of the hobbit to join their adventure had not been unexpected either. Gandalf had warned them that Bilbo may be hesitant to join them at first but would ultimately change his mind. What no one had expected was the revelation that Bilbo had a daughter, a seemingly young one at that.

“What why on earth would I join as a burglar, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life! Besides, I have my own young sapling to look after, she can hardly be left here to fend for herself, and I certainly won’t risk her on some journey to the ends of Middle Earth to fight a dragon. I’m sorry but no, I won’t do it” Bilbo had dramatically exclaimed. Murmurs of disappointed agreement had met his declaration., the road was no place for a youngling.

Bilbo had long since retired to his private room, the excitement of his uninvited visitors having worn him ragged. The company had made themselves comfortable in one of Bilbo’s sitting rooms, repurposing couches and armchairs for makeshift beds. It was as they began to bunk down for the night that the fright of their life had come.

As the hour of the gods struck a thundering sound breached the tranquility of Bag End, shaking the walls around them. Immediately each of the dwarves had sat up in alarm. It was unlikely an orc raiding party had strayed this far, even if they had somehow caught the scent of dwarf, but one could never be too sure. Through the doorway a faint light could be seen growing closer, a single set of heavy footsteps accompanying it. There was no doubt that each dwarf was cursing having stripped of sword, mace and bow at the door.

A lone looming figure suddenly appeared in the door, the soft light of the single candle it carried doing little to light up its features. Yet even though the shadows obscured the persons finer details, one thing was for certain. This figure was no hobbit, height alone gave it away. Gandalf was tall by human standards, but this figure may have given even him a run for his money. Daring to move, Dori had struck a match and begun lighting the nearest oil lamp with shaking hands.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my home” the stranger shrieked, “where is my father? What have you done to him? You’d better answer me now!” By now the oil lamp had chased away some of the shadows and the intruders face could be seen. Despite the tall stature of the woman before them, indicating human or elvish parentage, obvious hobbit-like features could be picked out. There was no doubt, you had to be Bilbo’s daughter, but you were certainly no sapling.

“I…we were invited here by a wizard, Gandalf the Grey, to meet with the hobbit Bilbo Baggins. Might I…that is to say...why are you covered in blood” Ori had stuttered out, the first of the stunned troop to find his voice. “I see, and where might my father be?” the woman answered ignoring Ori’s question. “Recovering from the shock of this evening’s news and festivities in his quarters no doubt” Bofur answered, having gathered his wits. Before the woman could answer him Thorin had interrupted. “You never answered the question, who’s blood is that and who are you” he demanded, rising to his feet.

The commotion had roused both Gandalf and Bilbo both of whom appeared in a flustered hurry behind the mystery woman. Seeming unsurprised by the scene both had relaxed somewhat upon seeing her, though Bilbo still glanced wearily at the dwarves. “For gods sakes you could at least try to clean up after coming back from hunting. Honestly, anyone would think that I hadn’t raised you to be a respectable hobbit, (Y/N)!” Bilbo exclaimed throwing his hands up in annoyance, “where’d you leave it this time. It better not be on my rug, you know how old it is. A family heirloom.”

“I left it on the doorstep once I saw all of their gear” (Y/N) jabbed a finger in the company’s direction, “I didn’t know you were expecting company, I was worried when I first saw it all. I thought some ragtag band of robbers had broken into Bag End.” Bilbo took in a deep exasperated breath, rolling his eyes at his daughters antics. “And what you thought you would come in and play the hero? Honestly what were you thinking? I know you like to hunt, even though I’d rather you not, but you’re not exactly a trained soldier are you” Bilbo snapped back. The company watched in amusement, all tension having melted away once it had become certain who the mystery woman was. If the hobbit and his daughter were to actually join them there was no doubt it would at least provide a bit of entertainment.

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #bilbo x reader #the company #Thorin's company #the company x reader #ori #dori #gandalf #the hobbit fic #request

133 notes · View notes

sharoo · 2 years ago

Text

Managers, you must pick a new abnormality for this facility... pt. 3

While I still have vacation, I might take one more suggestion for a doll from among the contenders that I can feasibly make (I have a few other favourites who are simply very complex and this will require me to learn how to do certain things/spent a lot of time on them).

#polls #loopotomy corp #lobcorp #lobotomy corporation #abnormalities #void dream #fairy festival #road home #laetitia

7 notes · View notes

flowers-in-your-basement · 5 months ago

Text

They make cards in class. First time in a while that valentines isn’t on the road, first time in even longer that both his dad and brother are home.

Dean and dad are probably waiting for him. He hope that they are.

His card ends up being pink with a heart and a fold out be my valentines?

(This part is too embarrassing to think out loud so he’s gonna think about it in the corners, the periphery of his mind) it’s been a couple months since he figured it out. Really. If you feel the same about both your family members, how can you decide that what you’re feeling is abnormal.

It’s called emotional incest, he thinks, or maybe just plain old incest. Whatever. He knows what he is.

If he had to pick one to… seduce, he would always go for John first. He’s drunk all the time, alone and maybe he could climb into his bed and get his kid-sticky hands under his waistband before he could protest.

Deans scarier. Dad puts things behind them. Dean carries them on his back.

But when he tries to give the card to dad, he seems… confused. “Shouldn’t this go to some pretty girl? Your date maybe?”

Shamefaced, Sam takes the card back. When Dean sees the card, he knows it’s for him, automatically. They’ve always been together like that.

He kisses Sam on the lips, just a peck, and Sam goes into a frenzy licking the taste off his lips. Their next kiss is deeper.

Dean tastes like menthols and burgers, bad breath-taste and the salt of sweat from his upper lip. Sam laps it all up.

“Happy valentines Sammy”

#happy valentines sammy #wincest #samdean #weecest #the epic love story of sam and dean #samjohn #a little

106 notes · View notes

heylittleriotact · 4 months ago

Text

Why do I find myself suddenly and vividly aware that I am dying even when I'm not?

I'm aware that we're dying always, of course: perpetually dying at a cellular level, and becoming reborn until eventually something goes wrong and that cycle abruptly ends.

Because that’s life, isn't it?

The constant, consistent awareness that it ends: knowledge that we acclimatize to over time in the same way we become accustomed to the numbing burn of an over-hot bath, finding some sort of comfort in the gentle agony of it until it becomes normal.

So why do I perceive the innocent shiver of my cells becoming abnormal while I peel carrots for dinner? Why do I see myself bloated and naked in the shower, stinking, slimy flesh wicking away from bone at the slightest touch from the poor souls who attempt to salvage my waterlogged ruin from its resting place?

My head splits open when a halla leaps into the road when I'm taking the long way home on the outskirts of the city during those lilac-shaded moments of dusk that everyone knows are dangerous. The windshield caves in where its antlers hit hardest, and the sheer blunt force of the poor creature nearly decapitates me.

The liminal silence around my slightly smoking car in the ditch after so much chaos is only punctuated by my last gasping attempts at breath through shredded tissue and skin. I piss myself. I shit myself too, only a few moments later.

I am battered constantly by thoughts about the horrific circumstances of my demise.

Even in the most wonderful, indulgent, unlikely daydream, where I die at a ripe old age, surrounded on my deathbed by my loving family: a spouse, children, grandchildren... perhaps even great-grandchildren, if time has been good to me - I am burdened by guilt and shame that they must see me like this: dying is hard work, and the pneumonia that is taking me makes every breath a monumental struggle: I am in pain, and they can see it - and it hurts them. I see the helplessness and torment on their faces.

That is my failing: I have made them suffer, despite a lifetime of committing myself to the opposite.

Every twinge in my abdomen is the harbinger of my demise. Every spasm or cramp in my leg is an embolism doing its royal tour through my circulatory system until the Big Red Day when it finally makes a stop in my lungs or my brain.

Is my breathing forced? My chest feels tight. Fade take me - my airways are closing. I haven't any idea why they would be - but they are.

This is a catastrophe.

I am in danger, here in the line at the grocery store.

Everyone around me is going about one of the most predictable aspects of their lives until I start dying: skimming the covers of the gossip rags and deciding idly that they hadn't given a shit about Empress Celene's 'scandalous' extramarital affair with an elf in years; plucking a pack of gum off the shelf above said rags, and finally resorting to entertaining themselves with their phones until it's their turn to look at the bolded total at the bottom of the checkout screen and pretend the number there isn't like taking a solid kick between the legs.

Must be nice.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about the roof of the building falling in and burying us all under tons of concrete and steel and asbestos within a matter of tragic, unforeseeable seconds. It'll take them days to fish all of our crushed, decomposing corpses out of the rubble while various solemn-faced officials inform our families.

A compassionate and appropriately soft-spoken funeral director bearing the same dignified cadence I've mastered over the years will be the one to tell our loved ones that 'due to the circumstances of our passing, we sadly aren't in a viewable condition' - I know this firsthand, you see: my parents died in a similarly tragic fashion when I was a boy, and I was told much the same at the time. I think despite everything, it might have served me better if I could have seen them...

I won't tell anyone about the man in front of me who playfully elbows his wife or girlfriend and casually pockets a chocolate bar: They are still going about their day, and I'm busy trying to force a breath into my panicking lungs, counting to five and then back again, noting various things that I can smell and hear, pinching the web of skin between my thumb and index finger as a physical cue because that usually jolts me back to reality.

I'm not in danger: I'm not dying.

I'm not dying, I'm not dying, I'm not dying, I'm not dying, I'm not dying, I'm not dying, I'm not dying, I'm not dying...

#modern emmrich #modern emmrich musing #i just started thinking about emmrich and death anxiety and here we are #emmrich volkarin #emmrich #dragon age emmrich #death anxiety #panic attack #datv #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #this is an emmrich shitpost

67 notes · View notes

unfairlyfallen · 1 month ago

Text

Nuetral-abnormal fact about me, day 10:

I have never in my life 'intentionally' fallen asleep in a car.

As a little kid, my parents would get frustrated about the fact that, no matter how late we had stayed out, or how physically draining the activities had been, I absolutely refused to sleep through the ride home.

When asked about why I wouldn't just relax and let myself rest, I remember being thoroughly confused and saying "I have to watch the road. You need to close your eyes to go to sleep."

They attempted to explain that only the driver needed to stay alert, but I clarified that specifically "'I' had to watch the road, so that we would know if something bad was going to happen."

(I remember thinking it was extremely silly that they didn't understand how that worked.)

They eventually gave up, and the uncomfortable, silent drives where I sat nearly unblinking and completely hyper focused on the road in front of us, continued for many, many years.

50 notes · View notes

corvidcrossbow · 1 year ago

Text

~•♡•~ Total Eclipse Of The Heart

➳ Summary: You take Daryl to watch the 2017 solar eclipse (Daryl x GN!Reader)

➳ Setting: Southern Virginia, August 21st, 2017 (in the 6 year timeskip in season 9)

➳ Word count: 1.6k

➳ C/W: Nothing

➳ A/N: Simple thing cuz I hated Leah watching something as special as the eclipse w/ Daryl in the show cuz I DO NOT LIKE her ass so I rewrote it cuz I believe there's few things more bonding than watching an eclipse with someone. Whippin out the dad music reference on this one. (I am working on reqs! I just have training for my job which my boss very reassuringly dubbed “bootcamp” and health shit is beating my ass I need to call like 3 specialty clinics again um 🗿)

“Ya ever gon’ tell me where we goin'?”

“Nope. Almost there,” You replied, a cheeky grin on your face as you swiveled your head back to glance at Daryl who sat behind you on his motorcycle. You'd dragged him out of his guilt-ridden solitude in the forest and demanded he get on, saying you needed to show him something and would not be taking ‘nah’ for an answer. You'd been driving southwest for nearly two hours now, headed towards something specific.

Daryl had little sense of the date, having spent nearly the last 3 ½ years out in the woods, wrapped up in his search for Rick. You stayed with him from time to time, Carol checking in as well, but he was too stubborn to go home with either of you no matter how many times you urged it. Even if he knew the day, you weren't sure he'd even know why it was special.

You, however, had been tracking the calendar and lunar cycles, and kept one specific date and pattern in your mind for the last 7 years; August 21st, 2017. You remembered ages ago, reading on science forums and listening to programs on the television, that today, the paths of the moon and the sun would perfectly align and grace a total solar eclipse across the entirety of the United States.

Your lives were such shit in so many ways: flesh eating, rotting corpses snarling after you at every second, run in after run in with malicious and corrupt people and groups, the lack of food, water, shelter and security, so many people gone – and that didn't include everything from before the dead reawoke. And with Daryl unadmittably depressed after the bridge, you would've done anything to show him there were other things in life to focus on. To live for.

So you left Alexandria early in the morning, found Daryl's camp, and forced him to join you. At first he'd thought something godawful had once again disturbed the communities, so bad you couldn’t tell him. But when you started driving the opposite direction, he grew confused and repeatedly asked what was going on, yet you never gave him an answer. Still, he trusted it was important – trusted you – and let you lead him.

❥-》》—————➣

You pulled off the side of the road, powering down the engine and putting up the kickstand, sliding off and stepping to walk into the forest. You'd gone further down into Virginia, knowing that was closer to totality. It wouldn't be complete, but the distance made a difference. “Alright, c'mon.”

Daryl grabbed your wrist, tugging you back and catching your attention, his eyebrows narrowed. “Really? Tha hell's s’all this? Ya haul me'ah hundred miles away tah walk in tha damn forest?”

“Ya spend all your time in a forest anyway, Dixon.” His expression hardered a little, and you sighed. “Please just follow me. I promise you, it's worth it.”

He looked over the features of your face, judging the sentiment they conveyed, and after a moment let you go. You were already here, no point in going back now. As you spun back around, he begrudgingly trailed after you.

You scanned the environment as you went, stopping near an opening in the canopy of trees that gave view to the sky. You could tell by the slanting of shadows and the slightly abnormal shape of light above you that the process had already begun, all that was left was to observe. So you set your bag down and sat, motioning for Daryl to as well.

“Thi'sa picnic or sum?” He questioned, grunting a little as he unsurely slung his belongings off his shoulder to the ground and did the same, settling beside you.

“Could be, I do have some food.” He didn't seem amused. “But no, not a picnic. You know what the day is? Any idea why it's meaningful?”

“Ts'summer, kno’ tha’. M'ah supposed tah kno’?”

“Maybe, I don't expect you to. Here.” You twisted and opened your bag, reaching for a welding mask you'd brought along and passed it to him. “Look at the sun.”

The archer eyed the facial shield, then you, but listened and held it to his face before shifting his gaze up. He squinted, taking sight of the arc carving that ate into the historically circular form of the burning celestial body. And you explained; “It's August 21st… 2017.”

He had to think for a bit. “Tha eclipse?” He lowered the mask and peered back at you. Memories lodged deep in the layers of his mind sparked; learning about eclipses way back in highschool and hearing his teacher mention it, then the annular one in ‘94 and seeing pictures plastered all over the news where they discussed the future.

“Yeah, thought we should see it. It'll look better down here, not perfect, but still… and the lens on that is dark enough it shouldn't hurt our eyes,” You answered, taking your own look before laying back and using your bag as a pillow. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but that's roughly the last thing you cared about right now.

He couldn't help but just stare for a minute, studying how nonchalant you were about everything. How you'd so easily removed him from his rut when so many other attempts had failed, even with his cluelessness around your intentions – like some larger force took hold and finally willed him to break his destructive routine.

Daryl sprawled out next to you on the forest floor, trading the welding shield back and forth over the course of the next half hour, as well as a piece of paper to see the casted geometry. You both watched as more and more of the sun was etched away, taking mental images each time and comparing the new form to the old. It was mostly quiet, lost in similar awe but varying thoughts. You inched closer every time it was his turn, assuming he noticed but didn't point it out.

“Y'know… total solar eclipses are meant to be when the deities and energies fuse, just as the paths do. A window for opportunities and transformation… time for change,” You commented, recalling all people said about the symbolism of such an event. He gave an ‘Mm’, just so you knew he'd heard you, but paid more attention to the progression in the ethers.

The world around you began to rapidly darken, a sliver of orange glow visible in the makeshift glasses. Knowing it was close, you slid your left palm into his right, weaving fingers together, and he returned the hold, still remaining absorbed in the view.

The moon crossed over the sun – at least as best it would from your vantage point; golden rays illuminating around solid black. As Daryl's eyes locked on the sky, taking it all in, yours locked on him, choosing to watch him over a potentially once in a lifetime occurrence. He lowered the mask to briefly see it fully, now reaching for the sheet.

He looked at peace, maybe for the first time in his life: the constant storm of thoughts that persistently clouded his mind finally parting, even if for just a small moment. You witnessed the glitter of genuine emotion return to his blue's, something you'd feared was so long abandoned it may have been forgotten. Rich browns of his wavy hair glowed iridescent auburns when shimmers of sunlight peeked through the leaves, perfectly complementing everything about his being.

You knew you each needed that change.

“I love you.”

He took a second, making sure the sound of your voice was real and not crafted by his own imagination. His head turned, somewhat staggered to find your eyes already meeting his. It was impossible to rip away, your visions warping together as you seemed to merge, entranced by the little crescents that reflected on each other's irises. His free hand ditched the paper and reached over as he partly rolled to his side.

“For a long time.”

In fluid movements, Daryl's calloused fingers smoothed across the delicate skin on your cheek, leaning in and bringing you to him in a longing kiss. You didn't entirely expect it, although you didn't expect anything in particular at all, too unsure of how he'd react. But you pushed back against him, deepening the kiss and paying no thought to anything beside how it felt to finally overlap with him – till he broke away.

“I love ya too,” He mused, accent thickening in the confession. When you opened your mouth to continue, he shut you up with another peck and angled your face straight above. “Watch. M'not bein’ tha reason ya miss this.”

Words could wait, but the eclipse would not. So you obliged, cuddling closer to him and squeezing his hand as birds and insects sung in a concerned ensemble triggered by the daylight's disappearance.

The tranquility was eerie, a sensation mostly left in the rubble of society and replaced by prevalent chaos. You wondered if the feeling was shared elsewhere; at home with everyone in Alexandria, with survivors across the entire rest of the country. Maybe those who didn't know thought the holy spirit was returning to rescue your raptured souls. Did the walkers pause to look too? Everything so out of the ordinary it caught their attention?

But none of that mattered to you, because you had it here. And you basked in it with the one person you'd always hoped you would've.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

172 notes · View notes