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matrixbearer2024 · 4 months

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Roller Rinking, Dancing and Dreaming

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: I went roller skating with some friends and one of them pitched the idea of a date at the roller rink with Vox and Reader, though it's not really a date anymore for those two since the Hazbin Hotel crew tagged along because Charlie didnt realize that this was supposed to be a special occasion. Oh and Alastor is just going to be kind of a sore thumb because it's funny. Also found this pic of Vox(it's not my art and I don't know who drew it HELP-) but it's his getup for his and Reader's date because I will not have this flatscreen idiot take us out in his fucking work clothes. Velvette give this man a proper wardrobe PLEASE-

A/N: I'm probably going to write a lot of date ideas between Vox and (Y/N) to prolong the slow-burn and also so I can include the other characters anyway- so if you guys have any other ideas- go ahead and drop them down below and I'll try to fit the ones I think would work best! As always, happy reading and I hope you guys enjoy!

A/N: Final note- but this was the song I was listening to while writing this long LONG chapter so if you guys wanna vibe to it while reading go ahead lolol- Song's called: "Shut Up And Dance" by Walk The Moon.

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If there was one word Vox would use to describe you, it had to be crazy.

Or cute, but that was besides the point-

He'd always thought your ideas couldn't get any wilder, only to be proven wrong in at the very least a few hours.

Especially when he was reminded of the time you made a papercraft of his clothes while he was stuck to your TV screen.

And the time you sent him earrape audio during a meeting for no reason?

And calling coffee "Bean Juice"?

He could go on and on about the random insane things you would do periodically.

But because he grew so used to it-

More like he always ended up looking forward to your entertaining shenanigans-

The first thing Vox had done was give you a new VoxTech phone with your custom app on it.

At this point, he defaulted to using it if he were to check on you anyway and you had no complaints.

Alastor gave you both shit for bringing tech into the hotel only to get flipped off by the two of you anyway.

Lucifer had to stop himself from laughing because the deer was practically throwing a tantrum at being so nonchalantly brushed off-

Vox chuckled as he reminisced about it.

That was all few days ago, and it seems like you've settled into hell quite nicely.

You made friends with nearly everyone at the hotel, save a certain radio cannibal who you also liked to annoy-

And you'd even met Velvette on one occasion.

Well, more like Vox wanted to fashion you a wardrobe but didn't trust himself to pick good outfit combinations so he just entrusted the task to his fashionista colleague-

What he didn't expect was for the both of you to hit it off fairly quickly after that and ended up staying in touch online.

Vox even wondered at times if you were talking to Velvette more than him already but didn't think about it too much-

You haven't been to the Vee tower since that outfit shopping spree and well, you kind of understood why.

Especially after what you heard about Valentino from both Vox and Angel Dust.

That pimp guy was just someone you did not want to be around.

So that just left your TV headed buddy with no choice but to visit the hotel more and more.

Not that either of you cared much about how irked Alastor got because both of you and sometimes even Lucifer would often gang up on him-

Vox never really stayed, after all redemption didn't seem to be his thing with a whole media empire to run-

But sometimes you would force him to humor Charlie and try some of the activities, teasing him about it and saying he was cringe whenever he got awkward.

Vox just chuckled as he looked back on a lot of the moments you both had together, twirling a pen in his hand while he fondly remembered.

Of course until he eventually forced himself to stop daydreaming and focus back on the stack of paperwork in front of him.

He hadn't even really begun and honestly he didn't know if he wanted to.

It was busy days like these where he couldn't wait to visit and see you, work was stressful enough so just hanging around you and turning his brain off to your nonsense was enough of a distraction.

Ah whatever, that was enough of procrastinating.

It was a little while of him working on and checking the stack of documents on his table before his phone rang.

Vox didn't even bother to check the caller ID and just answered it because he was in work-mode.

So he almost ended up snapping his pen in two from sheer surprise when he heard your voice through the call.

"Heeeeey Vox? You free this weekend?"

The overlord just glanced over at his schedule and figured he could clear up a day or two.

It was only a day until the weekend after all.

He'd have to work double-time until then just to make up for the load but he didn't see a problem with it when the trade-off was spending more time with you.

"I could free up my schedule, why? Did you have something planned dollface?"

"Kinda, I heard there's a new roller rink disco club around the block and I wanted to go!"

"And you're telling me this, why?"

"Because I want you to go with me, duhhhh!"

Vox looked over some of the papers he had on his table absentmindedly and hummed.

Admittedly, you asking him about it first was kind of flattering- even if you knew he was a very busy guy.

He would often drop whatever he was doing just to help you if you needed it after all, so him rearranging his schedule on the fly like this wasn't anything new.

"So kind of like a date?"

He grinned when he heard you stutter and fumble over your words.

The overlord could only imagine just how red and flustered you were at the moment.

You'd always found ways to embarrass him back then when you were alive, so now he was just kindly returning the favor.

"N-no! Well- kind of? I don't know! Just wear something nice!"

"Sure doll, I guess I'll see you then?"

"Mhm, see you!"

Vox stared fondly at his phone when you ended the call, a smile working onto his face as he chuckled.

Who knew it was because of this specific little gadget that brought you guys together in the first place.

Putting the phone down, he cracked his knuckles and gave his table a once over.

It was covered in papers of all kinds but if he started now he could probably get it finished before tomorrow.

You threw your phone onto a nearby cushion and covered your face with your hands.

That stupid TV was too charming for his own good-

You grumbled slightly and crossed your arms, sometimes you doubted if Vox really even meant all the words he says-

Did it come so naturally to him to just be that charismatic?

But at the same time the guy could be a real annoying piece of work-

You really felt like just another sucker who couldn't decide whether you wanted to hug the overlord or strangle him.

"Heya toots! What's got you so worked up?"

"Hey Angel, just- dealing with Vox I guess?"

"Seriously? That's what you're all hung up about?"

"Hey! I'm not- hung up about it-! He's just so annoying."

"For once we can agree on something it seems!"

You screamed when Alastor suddenly appeared at your side, falling off the area of the couch where you were sitting.

If there was one thing you hated that the two media broadcast overlords had in common was that they loved loved LOVED to just sneak up on you.

It was getting really old and really tiring.

Frankly you had already been sick of Vox being a cheeky little shit doing it- you didn't need his rival to join in-

"Nobody asked for your opinion Al, and don't you have some murder to orchestrate or something?"

"HaHA! Not at the moment! Why, if you wanted to join me on my excursions you could've said so my dear!"

"Eugh- hard pass old geezer. Besides, I'll be busy this weekend."

"Really? With what?"

"Gonna go to that new roller rink disco club down the block. I used to go roller skating when I was a kid but eventually stopped as I grew older."

You figured it would be wise to leave out the fact you were going with Vox, you didn't need to arm Alastor any more ammunition to mess with you or his rival.

Thing is, you didn't necessarily notice just what chaos sharing your weekend plans would entail.

"Well if you're already going there, why not take the others with you?"

Oh fuck.

You forgot about Charlie.

Now you really wished you had kept your mouth shut, the last thing you wanted to do was hurt her feelings when she'd been nothing but nice to you.

"Okay hold on-"

Alastor couldn't help widening his grin when he saw your worried expression, well this was certainly going to get interesting.

"What a wonderful idea my dear! Perhaps I should go observe what this brand new establishment has to offer as well!"

"You antique motherfucker-"

Your fluffy deer ears pinned back as you glared at the radio demon, he really had to be toying with you when he said that.

Especially if what Husk had said in the past was anything to go by.

Alastor didn't like going to clubs or places that were similarly just as noisy and obnoxious.

So he was really just trying to shove you deeper into the grave you'd dug yourself.

"That's great Al! Maybe you could even find some more ideas for the hotel while you're there!"

You just covered your face in your hands, so much for just spending time with just Vox this weekend-!

How the hell were you even supposed to tell him about this??

"Yeaaaahhh... greaaaat..."

You weakly mumbled, tiredly looking up at Angel who just gave you an apologetic shrug.

You just gave up trying to mention otherwise when everyone else seemed more than eager for this weekend.

So much for your original plan.

By the time the weekend rolled around, you got yourself all dressed pretty with a casual top and jeans.

You decided against wearing anything that would leave your legs exposed since you didn't know if you'd fall down a bunch while rollerskating.

It was a while since you could remember the last time you tried.

Grabbing your phone and some necessities, you left your room and went to wait in the hotel lobby for the others to get ready.

"Vox where are you going?"

The overlord nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

He swiveled around to see the youngest Vee just deadpanning at him.

Geez, and he thought he was being sneaky too.

"Ah! Velvette! Just- heading out. No reason."

"It's your date with (Y/N) isn't it?"

"It's not- oh whatever, what do you want?"

His colleague gave him an annoyed once over and the tech overlord just raised an eyebrow at her.

What was she planning this time?

"You aren't leaving wearing that."

"My suit? What's wrong with it?"

"For the occasion? Everything. Now come on- let's see if I can put something together for you."

While Vox didn't question what his colleague meant, he just followed Velvette to her studio when she gestured for him to.

He initially wanted to wear something other than his work clothes but after looking at the options in his closet he immediately went against the idea.

The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you by arriving underdressed.

"Nope. Too formal. Too risqué. Too boring. Too colorful- Aha! There! How's that?"

Looking at himself in a nearby mirror, Vox straightened the blazer he wore with a smile.

A light blue turtleneck with some loose slacks and a dark blazer on top, plus a pair of sneakers in his colors to throw together the whole ensemble.

He didn't have his hat this time, but he figured it was probably for the better that he didn't.

Comfortable but still dapper, he liked it.

"Your outfits are impeccable as always Velvette."

"Yeah yeah, you owe me one for this Vox. Now get going or you'll be late!"

The overlord didn't bother to ask his colleague about how she knew about his plans- you could've told her about it online for all he knew.

Instead, Vox just waved back at his colleague as he walked out the entrance of the building feeling excited to see you again.

So you could imagine his irritation when he met you at the club and saw everyone from the hotel there as well.

So much for it being a date-

"What the fuck are they doing here?"

He angrily whispered to you while the others were busy exploring the new building.

Pop music blared over the speakers as the lights flashed around.

A bunch of sinners were skating around the large rink that probably took up more than half of the whole club, some were just dancing around the sides outside of the rink.

It was exactly like an old disco club with the bar and even the older style furniture and aesthetic.

"Charlie suggested everyone come along and Alastor insisted, it wasn't like I had a choice."

You grit out in reply, crossing your arms and feeling slightly just as grumpy about the situation as your flatscreen companion.

"Whatever, we can still enjoy ourselves can't we?"

Admittedly, Vox looked pretty good in this new outfit.

You hadn't seen him in anything but his trademark blue coat and red vest he wore for work so this was something new.

And it was a good new, you'd thank Velvette later.

The overlord just smiled at you and nodded, leaving the others in the group to just explore as you both went and bought some skates for the rink.

More like Vox just didn't want to use the rental ones so he bought you each a pair to keep-

"(Favorite color)? You shouldn't have."

"Figured if I was getting something, might as well get the one you'd prefer."

Your giggle was nearly drowned out by the loud music but Vox still heard it, a soft smile forming on his face as he watched you eagerly put on your new skates.

"Honestly didn't think you'd remember about it, I think I only mentioned it once."

"Kind of hard to forget things when you've got a computer for a brain dollface."

You just lightly bumped his shoulder in jest before standing up and twirling on your new wheels.

Thankfully you could still remember how to work them, even if it was a long time ago since you'd done this kind of thing.

"Do they fit okay?"

"Pretty well actually, how'd you know my size?"

"Just guessed, I might be lucky today."

You just playfully rolled your eyes at his response, of course he'd pat himself on the back for that.

It didn't take long for Vox to eventually wear his own set of skates, he just had no idea how to stand.

"Come on! It's not that hard, I'll teach you!"

The overlord stared at your outstretched hands for a moment before taking them and standing up.

Again with the fuzzy feeling in his chest- what the hell-

The both of you wobbled for a second while your companion got used to the new center of gravity.

"Would you believe it if I said I have never ever done this before?"

"I think it kinda shows ya goof."

You continued to hold his hand as you showed Vox how to move forward, unfortunately for you- his sense of balance wasn't quite that great and you both ended up crashing to the floor.

The overlord landing on his ass and you landing on top of him.

The both of you exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

You were slightly thankful for the strobing lights of the club, otherwise you were pretty sure Vox would've easily seen the blush on your face.

He was kind of cute when he seemed to just be enjoying himself...

You just shoved that thought to the back of your mind and stood up again, holding a hand out for your companion to take.

"You're not gonna learn if you just sit down like that ya know? Come on! I wanna get inside the rink!"

Vox just looked at you amused, taking your hand and hefting himself to his feet again.

He could practically feel the energy just radiating off you, the bright excitement in your eyes even as you lead him to the entrance of the rink with much less struggle this time around.

You were just adorable, you'd let go of his hand to twirl around the center of the roller rink to the beat of the music.

Vox just found himself smiling again as he approached you.

If being beside you meant he could watch and see you like this?

He would gladly take that position in a heartbeat.

#Youtube #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox x reader #get off my screen series

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ticktokrobotsnot · 1 year

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Cooking Up Speculations

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: With y/n rushing around to doll herself up for an event, it's only a matter of time before things get out of hand.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: I have never written something like this before, and I thought I would give it a shot. I haven't checked the grammar, but if Google Docs missed anything, that's none of my business.

warning: alcohol and mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close.

The prep work was close to done and for once in The Bear’s short existence it was not a screaming disastrous mess. Everyone was on track and prepared, the sauces were sitting in the fridge, the cakes were waiting to be sliced, the rolls were warm and ready to be cut open and it was all thanks to (y/n) coming in extra early this morning. She had started the prep work for most of the chefs that had yet to arrive in the effort of softening the blow. She would be abandoning them for the dinner rush on what was predicted to be a very busy day.

What sport was being played? Who is playing? And who won were all unknown to y/n but all she knew was that the restaurant was going to be filled with rowdy and obnoxiously drunk men who were going to make everyone’s life miserable and she was going to get a “get out of jail free card”. She felt a small pang of guilt for basically leaving them for dead but sacrifices had to be made and if she could cover anyone’s shift with little to no notice she was allowed one day to herself.

The restaurant was expecting the dinner rush to crawl in at about 6:30 pm which left y/n about an hour and a half to get ready. Y/n was finishing up cutting up some garnishes so that everything would be perfect. The sounds of a spoon slapping skin was approaching and y/n knew that she needed to state her case convincingly so she could leave early. Fighting the urge to not bring anything up, work through her shift and miss her event was deviously tempting but with a deep inhale she put the knife down and turned on the balls of her feet.

Her (e/c) eyes meet his and before she could choke out a lame excuse as to why she was blocking him she spit out, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

Carmen looked expectantly, he thought she was going to ask him to taste test the braised beef she had just finished prepping, or ask an obscure question about the food science between ingredients. Y/n had once asked if he found it annoying during one of their late night clean up sessions and he said it was a nice change of pace and he really didn’t mind. How could he when you were so eager to learn?

Y/n didn’t want to do this out here, people are working and if she was going to beg, which is how she expected the next 5 minutes to go, she didn’t want any witnesses. The damage that would do to her pride would force her to change her name, move to Vegas and make money by selling timeshares to idiot tourists.

She cleared her throat, “Privately, chef”

Although his face didn’t betray anything, y/n knew that she had caught him off guard. After a while of spending most of their time together cleaning the kitchen after hours and talking about every minute detail in their lives, y/n knew that she had raised a few alarm bells in Carmen’s head. If she paid attention she could hear the sounds of a car alarm blaring in the back of his head signifying that he thought something was wrong. He always assumed the worst possible would happen, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He wordlessly guided y/n to his office. The door was closed and it felt like they were transported to a different dimension where there was nothing outside but the vacuum of space, it was just the two of them in this room and if one of them were to leave the outside pressure would make their body implode and smash into the size of a ping pong ball. She really didn’t want any of them to leave.

With a silent inhale, “I have to leave early today.”

Carmen softened the crease in between his eyebrows, “ Yeah sure, take the day off.” The imaginary crisis was averted and the car alarm stopped blaring in Carmen’s head.

Y/n was surprised that he was being so easy today. Y/n had yet to ask for a day off but she had spent last night imagining the worst possible scenarios possible, she would get yelled at, rejected, or worst he would guilt her for leaving them to deal with the upcoming shit storm.

“Honestly, I was expecting a bit more of a fight.” Y/n joked, “I even made this whole pitch to convince you.”

“ I can hear the pitch so that it doesn’t go to waste,” Carmen said with a glint of humour in his eyes.

Carmen was giving her an inch and so she might as well take the whole mile. Knowing she was about to push her luck and Carmen’s patience a bit more she continued.

“I came in at 4am and started everyone’s prep and helped Tina with the sandwiches during lunch, and did all of Syd’s prep because she had that doctor’s appointment. And I think it's cruel and unusual that you wouldn’t give me a day off when all I did today was prove how much of an angel I am. The least I can get is a measly day off…What you're not gonna give me a day off you selfish prick? You see this is what always happens, little guys always get pushed aside by the Big man. Carmen you're supposed to be better than those billionaire pricks who probably hunt their interns for sport. And I think it's so unfair that I grace you and this business with my presence and I don't even get a single day off- ” Carmen let out an exhale from his nose and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk. The move had almost made y/n fall to her knees, the way his hair was tousled, the way he looked up at her with his sharp blue eyes, the tattoo flexing on his hands that were a calloused and dry from years of washing them nearly a hundred times a day, the veins trailing up from his hands to under his white shirt.

“Okay, I get gist.”

Y/n knew he didn’t ask for an explanation but she wanted to keep him here for just a bit longer.

“I have this thing I have to go to and I live too far away to go home and change so I need your office to get ready. I would get changed and stuff in the bathroom but the lighting is really bad, the outlets don't work, it’s smelly-”

After a quick glance at his watch he realised that he had a few vendors coming by and he needed to get back to the kitchen. “I know, that bathroom is a real shit show. I told Fak to fix it but nothing he fixes lasts for very long. The office is yours.” Carmen rushed out.

“I'm going to be here till 12 so if there is anything you need me to do before I leave just give me a holler.”

Carmen gave a nod of appreciation before his eyes lingered on her face for a second before grabbing a few papers and a clipboard and then opening the door to leave. It was stupid and childish but y/n held her breath wondering if he would be crushed to the size of a ping pong ball as soon as he left but when she heard him yelling at Richie she knew that the “alone in space” fantasy had died.

Y/n slipped out and went to her locker where she pulled out a dress, makeup and a straightening iron. She had an hour and a chance to make herself look like she just came out of a Mattel box and it was a daunting task for someone who didn’t have much experience dressing up.

Makeup was a bit of a disaster at first because she didn’t want to ruin any of Carmy’s papers but after she accidentally dabbed a bit of concealer on a light bill she just stopped giving a fuck and finished up. The hair was tricky, the outlet was near the ground and she had to crouch to straighten her hair.

The last and most daunting task was the dress because y/n was about to strip in her bosses office and although she had dreams about something this amazing, the reality was much less sexy. In a small burst of paranoia she rolled the chair over to the door so no one would walk in by accident and quickly changed. In the back of her mind all she was thinking about was the small glimmer of hope that Carmy would be the one to walk in. In reality, it would be Rich or Fak because boundaries were a foreign concept to the both of them.

And with 10 minutes to spare, y/n was done. She sprayed some perfume and hyped herself up to leave. She knew she would get teased so she wanted a smooth exit, an Irish goodbye would be perfect, fingers crossed hoping that Richie was out back so she would get out before he made these stupid jokes.

After a few deep breaths, y/n picked up her things and opened the door. The coast was clear and she made a beeline to the lockers to grab her purse, change her shoes and go. She would leave most of her stuff, because if you want to survive you have to be light, like those firefighters that ditch their equipment so that they don't get burned alive. Everyone looked busy and with a quick once over, y/n tried to walk through the kitchen. And although women and heels have had centuries of history, the heels still managed to betray her at the very end. The long sound of heel on tile brought Syd’s head up. Y/n eyes widened as she shook her head as to signal to Syd to drop it but Syd let out a playful gasp and Y/n knew that the jig was up.

“You look amazing.”

And a sea of eyes were looking at y/n.

“You get all dressed up for me?” Syd joked and for a split second y/n wondered if she could make a run for it before she realised that she would fall and crack her head open.

“Who else?” Y/n joked back hoping to get out before she was held captive by their questions.

“You look so nice, where are you headed?” Tina said as she came closer and dragged you closer to everyone.

“Umm- I was actually going to-”

“You know who you look like?” One of those women who seduces James Bond at a casino.” Sweeps commented unhelpfully. A hum of agreement was shared among the crew. Y/n’s face grew warm.

“So where are you going?”

“A date, women don't dress like that if it's not for a date” Ebra chimed in.

Another gasp, “ IS it a date, is he handsome?” Sydney probed.

“Actually, I'm not- '' Y/n tried to finish before she was interrupted.

“What type of car does he drive?”

“We'll see when he picks her up. When is he picking you up?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CLOWN JABBERING ABOUT '' Richie burst through the door to see what all the commotion was about and he looked like he was in utter disbelief.

“I didn’t know that it was possible for you could look like that”

Y/n was slightly offended.

“You normally look like death.” Richie laughed. Scratch that y/n was very offended.

“I could look like this everyday if I wasn’t in front of a stove, you clown.”

Ignoring her, Richie asked the room,“ Where is she headed?”

“A date”, Sweeps added.

“I'm going to my friends-” y/n tried to interject.

“A date huh, our little y/n is all grown up now. Soon we’ll be sending her off to college.” Wiping a fake tear and leaning on Tina for mock support, “They leave the nest so soon, it was like it was just yesterday when I saw her struggling to walk.”

“It WAS yesterday and I was only struggling because I hit my knee on the shelfs in the walk-in.”

“Who’s the guy?” Richie asked

“ Your dad.” Y/n knew it was childish and unoriginal but she was too flustered to be a bit more creative.

Richie ignores her and continues, “You know what you look like? You look like one of those girls who kills Johns”

“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?”

“A classy one for like the president and shit.”

“or an ambassador,” Ebra added.

“or a CEO,” Richie continued.

Y/n knew it was going to be tough but she wanted to get out before she was stuck forever.

“I have to go now, I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow. Richie you suck major ass. And just so you know, i'm not going on a-”

Carmen walked in with a clipboard and a pen not even sparing a glance up.

“Ok, I just got the beef delivered so we should have enough for Ebra till the end of the week.”

“Heard, chef”

“And Marcus”, who watched the whole thing and didn’t offer any help to y/n except the occasional chuckle.

“I have your eggs”

“Heard, chef”

Although no one said it, everyone was waiting for the moment that Carmen looked up and saw y/n. The dishwashers who never really left their stations shut off the water and were subtly watching this mess unfold.

It was the longest that y/n had seen Richie quiet. He just stared at Carmen, while hiding his mocking smile under the guise of rubbing his stubble.

“I know we are low on onions but the guy is coming in a bit so sit tight”

“Heard”

Maybe, y/n thought, she would be able to walk past Carmen unnoticed if she walked on the balls of her feet so that the heels made less noise. Y/n took a step forward to hightail it out of here so she could make it in time and even though the heel was a lot quieter then last time, the unusual silence in the kitchen made it impossible to disguise the sound.

The sound of heels on tiles brought Carmen back to reality.

He looked up and y/n didn’t know if she imagined it but she thought she saw him raise his eyebrows. And if she was really going to feed into her delusions, she would say that his eyes widened and his pupils dilated too.

All that came crashing down thought, because after a beat of silence barring the sounds of sizzling and bubbling. Carmen questioned, “I thought you would have left by now chef.”

“I got held back but I really do need to leave now. I'm going to miss you guys and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” And with a quick wave y/n brushed shoulders with Carmen as she left. The smell of her perfume lingered and Carmen felt a bit dizzy.

Carmen wanted to ask where y/n was going but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, not when the two of you have already gotten so close. Richie had different plans, “Hey cousin guess where y/n going?”

“I don’t know cousin, that isn’t really any of our buis-”

“She is going on a date”

“A hot one” Syd chirped

“With a nice car” Ebra added

Richie’s comment felt like a ton falling on his head. Now he felt a different type of dizziness. He quickly composed himself

“Chefs, we have a dinner rush coming, now is not the time.” Carmen said with a bit of an edge.

Richie led Carmen to the front under the guise of asking a question about the tablet. The crew looked around and shared a knowing snicker.

“I can't believe that you let her go like that?” Richie added. “Right now she is in some guy's car about to get wined and dined to high heaven while you wait here with your cock in your hand like some cuck.”

“ Cuck?” Carmen said with venom, it's like he was giving Richie a chance to take it back before he killed him.

“I would be fucken pissed. I wouldn’t let someone take my girl out like that, all dressed up for someone who isn't me”

For a second Carmen imagined you sitting across from your rich new date with the nice car and the handsome face and felt like throwing up. He was angry, he was angry with this “date”, he was angry at Richie for saying all that stupid shit to get a reaction, and embarrassingly enough he was angry at y/n. He had no right to be but he just couldn’t help it.

“Richie if you don’t knock it off, I’m going to send you flying out the fucking window”

“Yes, chef.” Richie mockingly replied.

And with a swift turn Carmen returned to the kitchen with a different temperament then he had 10 minutes ago.

The dinner rush was a nightmare, but the kitchen was hell. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t set Carmen off. He wasn’t screaming like he was with the to-go orders but he was on edge. They could feel it when they had to remake dishes because he didn’t like them, or when they had to listen to him criticise innocuous things after housekeeping. When that dinner rush ended, the crew looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there. The second the restaurant closed, chefs cleaned as fast as they could to get the hell out of there. It was the fastest they had cleaned since the morning rush with the pre-orders.

With a quick goodbye, everyone but Carmen left the restaurant hoping that he would be in a better mood tomorrow.

Carmen did what he did every night, got on his knees and scrubbed the floor with a towel. Carmen knew it was unfair and he knew he had no right to dictate what you did. You weren’t his and he waited too long. A part of him understood where y/n was coming from, during one of their late night conversations he had mentioned that he had never had a girlfriend and he didn’t really have the time. This conversation took place some time after the two had gotten close but before he realised that he might have liked her for quite some time. Things were different now and Carmen wanted more.

He tried his best to be understanding but the thought of y/n clinging onto someone else’s arm and laughing at their stupid unfunny joke, made him livid. What if they kiss? Or what if they sleep together?” That thought made him stop scrubbing and sit on the balls of his feet and throw the wet towel with an unnecessary amount of force to another corner of the kitchen. He couldn’t do this today, he couldn’t be here. He got up and cleaned up the towel and bucket of dirty soap water and walked home.

He ended his night with a nightcap hoping that he would fall asleep easily but it didn’t work. He spent a good amount of time staring at y/n contact hovering over the call button before flaking out because it was 2 in the morning and he had to get to work at 6:30. Maybe Richie was right and he was a coward but before he could think too long, sleep had overcome him.

The restaurant was a bit of a walk away from Carmen’s house but he never minded it before, it felt like a good buffer between “Home Carmen” and “Work Carmen”. Today was different, he couldn't not think about y/n and that annoying date of her’s so for the first time in his time in Chicago he listened to music on his way to work. The music was so loud that it was just obnoxious noise and allowed him to stop worrying for a few moments. Carmen couldn’t think about y/n without feeling a bit… he didn’t know how he felt he just knew it was not a great feeling.

Being the first one in the restaurant was not new to him but it felt strange that after 30 minutes he was still the only one there, normally y/n would be there by now asking Carmen about a baking show they both happened to catch the night before, or ask what he ate for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Carmen would always fight the urge to lie and say that he cooked something magnificent when in reality he probably ate a bag of chips and drank some flat soda. One of the things that these AA meetings emphasised was honesty, to both himself and others, and even if it was embarrassing he told you the truth. You never really judged him because you did the same thing.

After sorting through fuck ton of bills, a few of which had brown power on them and one of them had a (s/c) smudge on the corner he heard a buzz in his pocket. He looked at it hoping it was you saying that you'll be there any second.

(Y/N): I'm so sorry to do this to you but I'm going to be a bit late today, not super late but like an hour. I have to grab my extra apron from my place and I'm a bit far from there. I'll be there by 8 the latest. Again, super sorry :(

Carmen read the text a few times to check if he read that right, you were going to be late because you weren't home and slept somewhere else and needed a change of clothes. Which translated to, you were with someone else, which means you might have done something with someone else. He just stared at the text for a few more seconds before he heard the sound of the front door opening, Carmen didn’t have to look to know it was Sydney. He snapped out of it and sent back an “ok”, lowercase just to be a bit petty. Was it immature? Yes. Did he regret it? Not really.

Y/n spent the rest of her food budget for the week yesterday in a drunken haze with an uber from one side of Chicago to the other. The bachelorette party was a success and y/n was glad that her friend had a good time at the fancy restaurant that she picked out. Y/n was trying to be responsible and limit herself to a few drinks but it's hard to say no to the bride to be and before she knew it she had to leave her car at the restaurant because they took her keys and y/n and her friends crammed into an uber headed towards one of the bridesmaids houses.

Y/n woke up in a hurry, she grabbed a random shirt and joggers from her friends closet because all she had was that dress, which now had wine spilled on it. She quickly gathered her things and texted the group chat that she had to leave early so she could get to work. They would read it when they woke up. Not repeating yesterday’s mistakes she took the train to the restaurant, got her keys back and drove at illegal speeds to get to her place where she took a shower, changed back into her friends clothes because she was way behind on laundry. She took one last look in the mirror before grabbing the apron and sprinting out the door to drive to work. She got there at 7:30am and she felt like death. The hangover was finally catching up to her, and she poured herself some water from the dispenser out front. She knew everyone was in the kitchen by now. She gave herself a few more seconds of quiet before she opened the door to the kitchen and gave a quick hello and rushed towards the lockers to put her stuff in and change into her non-slip shoes and apron.

Richie raised his eyebrows. This was too good, it was too easy, all he needed was for Carmy to get out of that depressing office of his to bear witness to this.

Richie was the first to ask, “New shirt? Never seen it before? ”

“Good Morning to you Richie, if you need to know I borrowed it from my friend.”

Carmen wanted to rush out as soon as he heard your voice but he refrained. He promised himself that he would give you a bit of space to respect you and your date/boyfriend. That didn’t stop him from listening through the door.

“Some friend you got there, real close.” Richie jokes

y/n didn’t know what he was talking about, “Friends tend to be close, Richie. You would know that if you had any.” Y/n barked back.

“How was it?” Syd asked as she sliced what looked like gallons of onions.

Y/n knew that last night was probably a good night but she was so drunk then and so hungover now that it all made her a bit nauseous to think about.

“Honestly, I don't remember much but I do know it was fun.”

“Hungover?” Tina asked.

“Very, my whole body feels like i was run over by a semi”

Marcus handed y/n a gatorade before going back to work with the cakes.

“You come back to us in new clothes, showered, late, hungover, and sore. You must have one hell of a night!” Richie said louder than necessary just so that Carmen would hear, he had a feeling that Carmy was eavesdropping.

“Im telling you guys i didn’t actually go on a-”

Carmen didn’t want to hear anything after Richie spoke because he felt like he was going to hear something he didn’t want to know. He picked up a clip board, slammed the door open and began walking around.

“Chef.” Carmen said mechanically

“Chef.” Y/n replied back fully expecting this, she left early, came late and was now distracting everyone.

Y/n quickly busied herself with peeling garlic and the rest day fell back to its usual rhythm. The prep finished right before the restaurant opened and they worked on filling to-go orders along with the regular lunch and dinner orders. One thing was noticeably different to y/n, Carmen hadn’t looked or approached her once. Normally he would walk by all the chefs and ask how they were doing, checking the quality, etc but the second he got to y/n who was at the far end of the kitchen he circled back. He made comments to everyone’s dish and he had yet to even get within a 3 feet radius on y/n.

Y/n could feel that something was off and to test it, after the dinner rush she finished making one of the test items that Sydney and Carmen had wanted to try out and after a small taste she knew she killed it.

Y/n walked up to Carmen with the dish and set it down. “Can you taste it and tell me what you think?” Carmen didn’t look up, he just grabbed a fork, took a bite and said a quick “It's fine, chef”.

Y/n then looked the dish over to sydney and asked her to try it.

“It added a bit of chocolate because I read somewhere that Japanese people put chocolate in their curry”

“Chocolate huh?” Sydney grabbed a small notebook and made a note.

“It’s okay?” y/n asked.

“It's fire, chef. Great work”

In y/n mind that confirmed that something was wrong with Carmen. Y/n waited till the restaurant closed and everyone left to bring it up. It was just Carmen and y/n alone in the restaurant and y/n could feel there was something in the air.

“You don't have to stay late, you should leave early” Carmon proposed while not looking at her.

That was strange because Carmen never asked her to leave early. She walked up to Carmen who was sweeping the floor and ripped off the bandaid.

“Thanks for the offer but I want to stay with you for a bit longer.” Carmen’s grip on the broom toughened till his knuckles turned white. It was a risky thing to say and after a beat of silence y/n took the coward’s way out by diverting and changing subjects.

“I'm sorry I was so late today Carmen, are we good?”

“We're good.”

Another awkward silence.

“ I don’t think we're good, you seem, I don't know, pissed?”

“I'm good, you're good, we’re good” Carmen said by turning his attention to a very interesting onion skin on the floor.

“You didn’t say anything about the dish I made, or that I was late. Someone told me that you seemed off yesterday.”

“Was this someone named Sydney?”

“Cannot confirm or deny, Carmy”

Carmy finished sweeping and took a few steps back.

“There it is again! You keep walking away from me and not looking me in the eye.”

Carmen didn’t know that he was being obvious, he thought he was subtle because Richie would have brought it up if he wasn’t. Carmen forced himself to look up at y/n and felt like the wind was knocked right off his lungs, he really hadn’t seen her at all today and he missed her.

“You can tell me what's happening so that I can help or at the very least listen to what's wrong.” y/n offered

Carmen bent down, and started to scrub in silence. He looked like he was piecing something together and y/n didn’t want to intrude so she continued to scrub assuming the conversation was over and that they were going to spend the rest of their lives in this uncomfortable silence. A few minutes pass and then a long sigh is heard from the other end of the kitchen. Carmen looked up.

“I’ve been a bit..” Carmen started. Y/n wanted him to finish his thought before she called him a dick.

“It's been a weird day.. I know it shouldn’t but I can't help but ask..”

A pregnant pause passed.

“How was..” y/n leaned in so she could hear.

“How was your “thing” yesterday?” He spit out.

Y/n looked a bit confused, “Umm it was fine, I mean we were at a restaurant so it wasn’t anything to crazy”

“Why were you so late today?”

The other shoe dropped, “ I knew you were pissed that I was late.” With an exhale she continued “We went to dinner and then got shit faced drunk and ubered over to a friends house. I had to go by that restaurant in the morning to pick up my keys and drive to my place so I could take a shower and not smell like a walking liquor store.”

“How was he?” Carmen choked out after a few more beats of silence.

“How was who?”

“Your umm…”

“Mmm” Carmen continued.

Y/n waited but it felt like he was testing her patience,

“Your date?” Carmen finally conceded while swinging his head down.

“What date? I went to a bachelorette party with a few of my girlfriends.”

Carmen’s head shot up, “ I thought-”

“The people in here are so nosy, I kept telling them that it wasn't a date and they wouldn’t bother to listen.”

Carmen’s shoulders relaxed and he felt like he could finally look at you without feeling guilty that he was looking at another guy’s girl.

“What’s been on your mind, Carm?” Y/n probed and Carmen's shoulders tensed up again.

Y/n could feel the atmosphere change and she wanted to capitalise on it while she still could, she could trick herself into thinking that Carmy was jealous of some imaginary guy that he thought she went on a date on, when he probably was just diverting attention to avoid talking about his own problems.

More silence.

More scrubbing.

Carmen looked up with a look of determination, y/n assumed that he had finally hyped himself to tell her what has been bugging him. Although the tension was killing her she did want this moment to last for a bit longer. In this moment she could convince herself that Carmen was troubled because of her and not because work was drowning him or that he is a mess because his brother left him this shithole and left.

She wanted him to have a problem with an easy solution. If he liked her, the easy solution was that she would kiss him and tell him how much she longed for him. He would then confess how much he yearned for her and she would give all of herself to him and he would finally have a win in his life, something that wasn’t tainted by his love/hate relationship with cooking, his family, his brother. Something that he would have all to himself, her love.

Just for a few moments she repeated, that's how long she had till the dream died. This wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. They would stay late and in the comfortable beats of silence Carmen would look up with such a look of determination and y/n heart would flutter hoping for those three special words but she would get something completely different but still equally important, information about a very private part of his life whether it be the AA meetings, or the guilt he felt for resenting his brother. And everytime y/n’s heart would break a bit and then mend itself knowing that even if she couldn't have him like she wanted to, she would still be important to him.

That type of relationship, friendship, used to be enough, but not anymore. With his plans to change The Bear he was getting further and further away from her. It used to feel like it was the two of them but y/n was starting to wonder if she was going to be left behind. If she would stay friends for a while until the longing grew too strong and y/n would leave The Bear. Even if Carmen misses her for a while, y/n knew he would bounce back like he always did and she would slowly be replaced by Sydney or whoever. The thought that in a few years he will have learned to cope with his grief and trauma and move on from the past, move on from y/n, and maybe settle down with someone else made y/n feel like throwing up.

This time y/n didn’t fall for Carmen's “look”, she had a neutral face and was ready to hear what Carmen's issues were. She wouldn’t assume that she was going to get a confession. This time she will help him with his problems and move on from this one-sided crush. Maybe she WILL go on a few dates to forget about him.

“Carmen, do you want to talk about it?We don’t have to do anything you don't want to.”

Determination morphed into apprehension.

“I am feeling something, it is n-n-not…” He exhaled through his nose.

”It's selfish y/n. I'm being selfish. You have every right to do whatever you want but I..”

Y/n tried to look as comforting as possible trying her best to hide any confusion, if Carmen was any other person she would ask if he was sober right now because he was a total mess.

“I’ve never done this before, and I-” and he ran his palm through his hair.

Y/n refrained from thinking about how amazing he looked under the fluorescent lights with his tousled hair and apprehensive gaze. He could bring up his nightmares or sleepwalking, and she would feel so guilty for perving over his eyes.

“You looked very nice in that dress yesterday.” Y/n felt like a lump was forming in her throat. He was going to say something like this and think it's an off handed comment but she would go to the bathroom and cry because she knew nothing would come from it. Y/n thought it was a bit cruel.

“You looked so beautiful yesterday it was hard for me to look at you without making a fucking idiot out of myself. I wanted to run over to you and tell you that as soon as you left but Richie told me you're going on a date and it was…”

Carmen continued, “You are special and you deserve someone who isn’t…me. And you're free to do whatever and if this is completely …wrong…bad…i don't know, just stop me and we will never talk about this ever again…”

He searched y/n’s eyes looking for a sliver of doubt or disgust but he was met with glassy eyes and a look that longed for him to continue.

“When I thought you were going on that date I knew that I couldn’t not have you and that made me feel….” A sigh reverberated through the kitchen.

“ I like you…romantically.” Carmen uttered.

Y/n didn’t say or do anything for a moment, she spent a few moments wondering if she was hallucinating or dreaming. And in a moment of pure adrenaline, she scooted over to Carmen who was still on the floor before cupping his face in her hands and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

The kiss wasn't electrifying; it felt like a wave of warmth seeped into every corner of their beings. It felt like dipping your hand in warm water after shovelling the show, the type of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. Y/n fingers get lost in his wavy hair and his hands hesitate, not knowing where they should go before landing one on her hip and the other on the back of her neck to pull her closer. Y/n heart was beating so hard she wondered stupidly if he could hear it, Carmen was wondering something similar. They slowly pulled away for air before getting a good look at each other, both their lips were swollen and red and their eyes were dazed.

Y/n knew he was a flighty person, one wrong move and he would go running for the hills so she refrained from asking if they were dating now, this could have just been a one time thing and she didn’t want to ruin it. Thankfully Carmen held her hand and stroked it with her thumb before swinging his head down and looking up at her.

“I want to be with you y/n”

“I like you too, Carmen, for a very long time.” And their lips meet once again.

Y/n resisted the urge to say that she only bought the dress in the hopes that he would take it off of her, that was a story for another time.

“Let's get you home” Carmen mumbled into her lips, the vibrations and the friction making her lips burn in sensitivity.

Carmen helped y/n get up before they both packed up their stuff and headed out the door. Both hiding the smile of triumph from each other, not really knowing how much the other loves them yet, and only time would remedy that.

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starry-hughes · 6 months

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fake holiday date (luke hughes)

day 16 of star’s ficmas

luke hughes x reader

Luke hadn’t heard from you since he left for Tampa. When he left for Tampa for the Frozen Four, he decided to break up with you. It was a hard decision but he didn’t want it hard on you. But he was coming home to Michigan for the holidays and he got a text from you.

“I need help.”

Luke Hughes was still in love with you. He immediately called upon seeing your text. “Hello?” you answered. Your stomach was a pit of nerves. Even though you texted him, you still felt sick when he called. “Are you okay?” he panicked. “I need a date.”

He should have hung up but you were scrambling words together. “Luke, wait, please hear me out. I kinda never told my family we ended things, and they are expecting you at Christmas. Please, just like two hours.”

Luke was silent. He didn’t know what to say. You were still telling your family he was still your boyfriend? “Two hours. Just two hours,” Luke mumbled.

Luke and you were a good couple. Envied by friends, called mom and dad by his roommates, always together. You loved Luke and he loved you, it was the right person at the wrong time. Luke was your first love, the first boy you brought home.

He sat outside your house, in his car, wearing a red sweater. He told his parents and brothers he was seeing his friends. He texted you a simple “here.”

You exited the house and Luke sucked in a breath. You were still beautiful. Luke walked up, a secret gift folded in his pocket. “Thank you,” you whispered and leaned up and kissed his cheek. You pulled him into the house and he was met with the familiar warmth of your house. Memories of him and you on the couch watching movies or eating dinners with your family.

“Luke!” your mother greeted, wiping her hands on her apron. “Honey it’s been so long, I’m so sad (Y/N) didn’t bring you by the whole summer, she said you were training but was always seeing you.” Luke nodded and smiled. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, missed you guys,” Luke lied.

You had coached Luke, saying he was so busy with training and that you still saw him over the summer, saying that you even went with the boys to see the game in Detroit. “How’s the season going?” your dad questioned. Your parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents, and you and Luke eventually sat at the table for dinner.

Luke didn’t need to do it, but he placed his hand on your thigh, the two of you were a perfect couple. Your family all bought the act. After dinner, Luke even helped clean up before you dragged him up to your bedroom.

It was the same as the last time he saw it. Even your pictures of you and him still were hanging, probably to further your lie. Your stuffed animal sat on your bed and he smiled. “Thank you for coming, I didn’t think you’d actually answer my text.”

“I wanted to get away from Jack and Quinn anyway, they were annoying me,” Luke joked. “Why didn’t you ever tell your family?” Luke asked. You sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I didn’t want to tell them, they were disappointed when I changed my major. I didn’t want to tell them I lost my boyfriend too.”

He frowned. “I haven't dated anyone since you. My parents just think I was with you during the summer but I was really just driving around town or window shopping at stores,” you admitted. Luke opened his mouth to say something but shut it when his phone buzzed. He had been gone for three hours, his brothers and parents were wondering where he had gone. “I have to go,” Luke swallowed.

You walked him out, watching with a smile as he bid everyone a goodbye and walked him out to his car. “I hope your family is well and Jersey treats you well,” you whispered. “Have a good Christmas (Y/N).”

If Luke and you were still dating, he would have kissed you. You would have seen his parents for Christmas, messed with Quinn and Jack, it would have been all fine. “Bye Luke.”

You snuck past your family, wanting to go cry in your room. You missed Luke. You entered your childhood bedroom, but there was something on your bed. It was a folded piece of paper, from Luke. You slowly unfolded it. A plane ticket to New Jersey.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imgaine #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #star’s ficmas #nj devils imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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sometimesanalice · 7 months

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Seeing Double

Summary: Two weeks had felt like more than enough time to come up with something. And now you’re costumeless and in a panic less than a couple of hours before you’re supposed to be meeting your boyfriend’s closest friends. You’re ready to call it quits when you’re suddenly hit with a burst of inspiration.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6k

Warnings: fluff, allusions to smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in short-shorts (minors dni)

(This fic is a one-shot that is set before the Oh Christmas Tree, but you can read it on its own! Enjoy 🧡)

Looking at your closet, filled with everything and yet absolutely nothing, you’re beginning to realize just how totally and royally screwed you are.

The thing is you’d had time. More than enough time, in fact.

When Bradley had first invited you to go with him to this Halloween party, two weeks had seemed like plenty of time to concoct the perfect costume.

And then the more you’d thought about it, the more you’d overthought it, the more annoyed you’d gotten for overthinking it. A vicious spiral that not even hours of searching on Pinterest had helped to pull you from.

One that had left you costumeless for a party that was supposed to start in less than two hours with all of your boyfriend’s friends.

Fuck.

It was one outfit for one evening. You should probably be more concerned about Ciara from Marketing and her not-so-subtle scheming than what you were going to put on your body for the next five or so hours.

As you a sift through your perfectly color coordinated clothes, dragging hangers across the closet rod as if you’ve been personally victimized by the wardrobe you’d bought with your own money, you can’t help but wonder if you might have some self-sabotaging tendencies.

Bradley Bradshaw had snuck up on you when you were least expecting it. And what you thought was just going to be some summer fun had quickly turned into something more.

More often than not, you were thinking of him.

More often than not, he was texting you throughout the day.

More often than not, you were sharing a bed with him at night.

The last three, almost four, months had flown by in a summer haze and you liked Rooster more than any other man you had dated in the past.

You might even love him, but that was something you were keeping close to your chest for now. It felt too soon to be feeling the way you did about him.

He was more than just the pretty face and easygoing smile that had swayed you into giving him your number. He was more than just a fun night out and some no-strings-attached-yet-mind-blowing sex that you had tried to convince yourself it was.

He’d made it impossible for you to try and keep it casual in the way that he’d thoroughly swept you off your feet. You’d given up trying to keep him at arm’s length after your fifth date with him.

If you couldn’t beat him, you might as well join him. And so far, it was a gamble with your heart that was paying off.

Which was probably why you had given yourself the world’s worst mental block trying to figure out a costume to wear.

You’d met a few of his friends, like Natasha and Jake, during the nights he’d taken you to the Hard Deck. He’d told you that after one of their missions earlier in the year, the members on the squad had been in high demand. But this was the first time you’d be hanging out with them all at once.

So yeah, you were more than a little nervous about this evening.

And you didn’t just want to make a good impression, you wanted to absolutely charm and delight them. These people were so important to him, they were his family. They mattered to him and he mattered to you.

You pull out a black cocktail dress and debate whether you could pull together a Breakfast at Tiffany’s look with the pearls your grandmother had left you. It was a classic for a reason, right?

Or did it make you look like you were trying too hard? She was basically a callgirl after all.

The formfitting little dress goes back on the rack with a little more force than is necessary.

It’s just a causal get together, so why are your palms sweating?

You eye a silky pink slip dress and think about pairing it with one of your overpriced sleep mask. But you think you’d look less like you were flirty, thirty, and thriving and more like you forgotten to get dressed after rolling out of bed.

There are still a couple of cozy plaid button ups that you’d brought with you from home, but unless you carried around a roll of paper towels all night, it was an idea that might get you a more than a few perplexed looks. And there was nothing worse than having to explain your outfit for it to make sense to people.

Or worse, you’d be the one cleaning up spills all night.

You wanted your effort to look effortless.

Cool but not try hard. Thought through but not over the top.

You remember seeing some friend of a friend’s post from last weekend where she was dressed as Kim Possible. Green pants and a black top feel very doable. And she’d looked very cute and low maintenance, which was just the kind of vibe you were going for.

Remembering a pair of green khakis your sister had somehow talked you into the last time she came to visit, you go to your dresser and yank out the drawer you think they’d be in and toss it on the floor. You’re over trying to keep some semblance of order, that’s a problem for future you to deal with now.

Digging around in the pile, you will a flash of olive green to appear before your eyes. And when the items formerly nicely folded drawer and nothing but a heap of wrinkled, olive green-less chaos, you’re hit with the realization that the khakis that had seemed like a bad idea when you’d first gotten them had felt like a bad idea every time you looked at them and they’d ended up in the donation pile during your last closet purge.

You flop down and take in the carnage.

Half open drawers, random tops and skirts flung on your bed, the perfect rainbow of your closet now some technicolored disarray.

You’re almost afraid to pull out your phone to look at the clock, that pressure growing in your chest keeps getting worse. You can almost feel each individual second as they tick by. Glancing down you see that there’s a new message from Bradley, one that you missed in your frenzy to find something, anything to wear tonight.

Bradley, 9:52 AM: That wake up was worth the extra pushups I had to do for being late.

Bradley, 11:10 AM: Did I leave my shirt at your place this morning?

You, 12:22 PM: I’ll check when I get home and let you know. But I’m sure it’s there since I vividly remember the way you took it off last night.

You, 12:23 PM: And you only have yourself to blame for those pushups. (PS. I told you what time it was before I got in the shower, you were the one who invited yourself to join. PPS. I liked that thing you did with the shower head)

Bradley, 2:37 PM: As I said, worth it (PS pretty sure the only thing I heard you chanting was my name. Also I just ordered a new shower head for my place, one with a fancy handheld and everything)

You, 3:04 PM: I guess I’ll have to wake you up with my mouth more often then. (PS. just curious how many settings does it have? Asking for a friend.)

Bradley, 3:10 PM: Jesus Sweetheart, I’m up next to do a hop… (PS more than enough, and by enough, I mean 7)

You, 3:10 PM: 😘 (PS. can’t wait, I’m more than happy to product test)

Bradley, 3:11 PM: Yeah, I bet you are...

You, 3:11 PM: (Want to know the best part of working from home? I can get off any time I want. Have fun flying with that hard-on, Roos.)

Bradley, 3:12 PM: Baby, you’re killing me here

You, 3:12 PM: Fly safe ❤️

🔴 Bradley, 6:14 PM: Just got home, I can’t wait to see you tonight. What time should I pick you up? You might have to come down though, I don’t know if they’d let me in...

Skimming the previous messages from earlier in the day helps relieve some of the anxious energy that was thrumming in your veins. Because he’s just so Bradley.

He hadn’t been the only one who got to work late this morning. You’d actually worked from the office that day, but it had been more fun to tease him from your desk than draft the internal communications you were supposed to be working on.

The original plan had been to work a half day and then leave early and figure out your costume situation. But then you’d been pulled into an emergency PR meeting on your way out the door for one of the company’s biggest clients and had got home much, much later than you’d planned to.

You’d spotted Rooster’s shirt crumpled on the floor by the foot of your bed, from where he’d shucked it off the night before, the second you’d flown into your bedroom. Now it is carefully draped against the back of the soft blue tufted chair in the corner of your room. It was a colorful patchwork of beach themed vignettes in soft corals, teals, and dark blues. In addition to the palm trees and foliage, there were also planes and ships on it.

It was one of your favorites because you always felt like you were finding something new on it every time he wore it.

He’d told you once early on when you’d first gotten serious, after you’d teased him about his seemingly endless supply, that he’d even gotten curious one drunken night and looked up the resale value on some of his favorites and was shocked at the numbers. That it had taken him a month to put one back on because he didn’t want to ruin any of them on accident, now that he knew what exactly his father had left him.

You knew how much Bradley valued his collection, what they meant to him. You were even watching a few vintage ones in nice condition on Ebay to give him for Christmas.

Letting out a ragged sigh, you look back at the pile on the ground.

You’ve always prided yourself on being a problem solver. And the one time you needed to spring into action with a pivot plan is the one time you’re at a complete loss. You felt paralyzed by indecision and the kind of pressure that only you could put on yourself, which made everything that much more frustrating.

How you had kept the novelty six-pack tank top you’d taken home from a White Elephant exchange, but donated the green khaki pants was beyond you.

Out of the two, one would have been much more practical in this particular moment.

You pick it up off the floor and feel the fabric between your fingers. It was surprisingly soft for something that you’d expect to feel like sandpaper no matter how many times it got washed.

That tank top had never seen the light of day, yet always seemed to make it through your yearly purge unscathed. Probably solely on the fact that it made you giggle whenever you saw it. You always forgot about it, but it was a happy surprise when you pulled it out from where it was tucked away in the back of your dresser drawer.

You let it fall back onto the top of the pile.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard of your phone as you try to figure out what to say to Bradley, as you look back and forth between your mountainous mess and the empty text box.

You know you could call him and he’d pick up before the third ring. You knew you could text him and he would reply the moment he could. And you know, if you told him you were stressed about meeting all of his friends and wanting to impress them, to impress him, that he would understand. He’d tell you- in that soothing way of his- to not worry about it, that you could just wear whatever made you comfortable, no costume necessary.

He’d probably even ditch his own so that you weren’t the only one there in normal clothes, even though he’d been dropping teasing hint about his for days now. He was so excited for tonight, you didn’t want to bring the vibe down before you’d even arrived.

You close your eyes and allow yourself a couple moments to reset.

What you wore didn’t matter. But whatever you wore, you were going to have a great time with Bradley and the people he cared about. And that was the only thing that mattered to you.

You could throw on your little black dress, or a red and white striped sweater with a pair of glasses, or some skintight leggings and a leather jacket. But it didn’t matter because it was all going to end the same way: with you tipsy and giddy and in Rooster’s bed.

Already feeling much better you open your eyes again.

You’re greeted again with those perfectly sculpted abs of that silly little tank top that still sits on top of the mound of clothes on your floor. But out of the corner of you eye, those cheerful colors adorning your chair in the corner wink out at you.

The glimmer of an idea settles over you like stardust.

It’s on that the more you sit with, the more perfectly solidified it becomes in your mind. Oh, you can see it so clearly now.

It’s an idea that makes you feel like you could bubble over in excitement.

You shoot off a quick text to Rooster and set about grabbing all the things you needed. You’d be a little late, but not terribly so. Fashionably late.

And you’re hopeful it’ll be worth the last-minute change of plans.

There was only one thing you needed that you didn’t already have, and you knew just where you’d be able to find it.

Just a quick little pit stop on the way to the party.

On your way to Bradley.

When Rooster parked in front of Fanboy and Payback’s place he shouldn’t have been surprised to see the Spanish-style house they rented together absolutely covered in every type of decoration imaginable.

He’d heard Reuben moan and groan about it enough over the last few weeks.

Halloween was Mickey’s favorite holiday and there was nothing more he loved than going all out on a theme. It didn’t matter if it was St Patrick’s Day or National Cheeseburger Day, he always committed.

They’d all be pulled into the argument about whether or not a faux body bag filled with empty bottles should be strung up on the front porch. Fanboy lost that one by a mere two votes. And Bob had been the one to broker the peace by suggesting they make some ghosts to hang up instead.

Dozens of glowing pumpkin lanterns hung from the trees outside and lined the pathway up to the front door. The bushes were wrapped in fibrous looking cobweb material as lights flickered and flashed underneath them. There was a fog machine hidden somewhere because wisps of smoke were curling and crawling along the lawn. Custom gravestones littered the yard along with a few well-placed plastic skeletons. The front of the porch was filled with more pumpkins of various sizes and shapes and colors as well as those truce ghosts and a few oversized bats swaying in the chilly October night breeze.

Rooster wasted no time letting himself in the glowing entryway, rubbing his arms as he hustled to get inside. Normally he ran warm, but he’d been covered in goosebumps from the moment he’d gotten out of the Bronco.

His costume had earned him more than a few wolf whistles when he had stopped to get gas. He’d simply shot them a wink and a smirk as he’d strut past them to go inside and pay.

He looked damn good.

But there was only one person he’d wanted to show off this outfit to.

He didn’t know how it was possible but the inside was even more decorated than the outside of their place was.

There were stands and strands of colorful string lights in black, purple, and orange strung across the ceiling covered by gauzy black fabric. There were more cobwebs covering every exposed bit of the walls and flameless candles lining the floor of the hallway. And there was a mix of eerie forest sounds playing under the Halloween party soundtrack that Coyote had been roped into making for the night.

Bradley follows the hundreds of little plastic spiders decorated the wall leading him to the living room. And almost collides with someone as he rounds the corner.

The shorter man he’d nearly taken out had on an overly bleached and spiked wig with a goatee and was wearing more neon orange flames than any one person should be allowed to wear.

They were both eyeing each other waiting for the other person to lob the first comment.

Rooster sees the way Mav’s cheeks are twitching as he takes in the length of the shorts he was wearing and just how much leg he had on display.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s hear it, old man,” he snorts, reaching out and taking the drink from Mav’s hand and taking a swig from the mostly empty bottle before passing it back.

“Did they lower the drinking age and I missed the memo, kid?” Mav tosses back easily, pointing to Bradley’s clingy, red Rydell High School t-shirt. “Don’t need a Class A misdemeanor on my record, that file is already big enough on its own.”

“Laugh it up, Flavortown,” Bradley snorts, “You on your way out?”

“Yeah, just wanted to swing by for a minute before I go over to the Hard Deck to help Penny out for the night. She sent me with some treats too, they’re over on the table. Where’s your girl? I was hoping to see her before I left.”

“Oh, uh, she’s meeting me here. Said she got caught up in a last-minute meeting,” Bradley says rubbing the back of his neck. He was trying not to over think the text you’d sent him. “So what’s Penny dressing up as?”

Mav uses both hands and gestures to his costume, face flat.

“No shit,” Bradley laughs.

“Amelia hustled the both of us,” Mav says shaking his head fondly. “I’m telling you, kid, teenagers these days are a scary bunch.” He takes the last swig of his beer and passes the bottle to Bradley, patting him on the shoulder. “Make sure you and your girl try the candlestick cakes. The realistic ones are the ones that Penny made.”

“And the others?” Rooster asked with a smirk.

“Let’s just say I’m a better pilot than I am with a piping bag,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Happy Halloween, Bradley.”

“See you on Sunday for brunch.”

He and his godfather exchange a hug before Pete strides out the door, giving him one more pat on the back before he leaves.

Rooster makes his way further into the living room and goes to check out the food situation and to grab a drink in hopes that it’ll help settle that anxious coil in the pit of his stomach.

He waves over to Fritz, Yale, and Omaha, who are dressed up as the Sanderson Sisters, as he makes his way to the dining room. Fritz has his arm draped over his wife’s shoulder who is dressed like a black cat and they’re all gathered around the keg in the kitchen like it’s a cauldron.

Under a display of floating candles, Fanboy and Payback’s dining table is filled to the brim with all kinds of party food. Breadsticks that looked like fingers, a charcuterie board being clutched by a skeleton, a carved pumpkin puking some kind of tasty looking dip, and rice krispies with an ungodly amount of red dye number forty wrapped up in plastic on Styrofoam trays. And of course, the candlestick cakes. It was obvious which one’s Penny had made and which were Mav’s handiwork.

He pops one in his mouth, making a mental note to text Penny about how good they are.

Off to the side there was a homemade cooler shaped like a coffin and a witch’s cauldron bubbling away with dry ice filled with something potent, if the patriotic punch from the Fourth of July was anything to go by.

He grabs one of the plastic syringes from the bowl that says free shots and sips it down easily, trying not to grimace at the ratio of tequila to cranberry cocktail, and then dropping the now empty syringe in the hazardous waste bucket that’s placed next to the bowl.

Checking out the inside of the cooler, he sees it’s been stocked with a good variety of beers and ciders, he even spots your favorite which he knows you’ll be excited about.

That is whenever you get here.

Bradley pulls out his phone from the back pocket of his tight-fitting shorts to see if there’s any new message from you yet.

No ETA, no update, no on my way. Nothing since his last text nearly forty minutes ago. He’s tempted to shoot you another one, but he doesn’t want to come across as overbearing.

Rooster knew you were a bit anxious about tonight, even though all his friends really liked you, but he was starting to think that maybe he might be deeper in this than you were. He was trying not to let his mind spiral about why you didn’t want him to pick you up, but the only thing he kept coming back to was that maybe you wanted a way to make an easy escape if you weren’t having a good time with him or his friends.

He was worried that you might have one foot out the door.

You’ve met most of his friends now, just at different times and never all at once.

After the Uranium Mission, their team quickly became very in-demand. Getting requests to join other training contingents, classified trials and testing of new tech in development, and smaller specialized missions. It’s very rare now that they’re all in the same place at the same time. It always feels like there’s always someone missing, they’re always going and doing.

His team has always been good about finding ways to let off steam.

Although, he’s been less frequently found behind the piano bench of the Hard Deck since he’s taking on a more starring role in your bedroom. His friends would tease him on base about keeping you to himself. But he wouldn’t apologize for wanting to spending all his free time with you than the people he already spent the majority of his days with. Bradley doesn’t want you to feel like he’s trying to keep you away from them, he just would rather soak up all of your attention than share you with everyone else.

He liked that you were his girl.

Sighing to himself, Rooster puts his phone back in his pocket and walks back out to the living room before anyone can accuse him of sulking.

Callie and her fiancée are dress up as Velma and Daphne and chatting away with Bob over by the fireplace that is filled with skulls and thick pillars of candles. Bob’s homemade chef’s hat is glowing lightly from the inside and showing the silhouette of a little rodent.

He watches as Fanboy in his Hamburglar costume heading over of the bathroom with a trash bag looking more than a little suspicious. Bradley is sure he has more than a few pranks up black and white striped sleeves tonight.

“Where’s your Sandy, Danny?” Nat asks, sliding up to him and passing him a beer.

“You know, I don’t actually know what she’s coming dressed as. She never gave me any hints,” he admits, taking a small sip as he takes in her costume. She’s got fluffy bunny ears on and her nose is painted pink. The only thing missing from her Lola Bunny ensemble is the basketball.

“Oh?” He can tell Phoenix is trying to school the surprise on her face. “I just figured with you wearing that and all.”

He just shrugs, his thumbnail picking at the label on the bottle.

Bradley had thought about floating a couple’s costume when he had invited you to come with him, but he pivoted at the last moment, not wanting to put pressure on you to agree to commit right away.

“Is she on her way?” Nat asks, looking at him out of the corner of her all too keen eyes.

“Hopefully, if she doesn’t change her mind,” he says ruefully.

“Why would she do that? Did you do something to piss her off?”

“Not that I know of. I know I’m reading into things, but I was supposed to go pick her up and she texted me last minute saying that she’d meet me here instead. And I don’t know what to make of it, it just isn’t like her.”

“Is that why you’re standing here look like a sad puppy? You know I’ve never been able to get through those ASPCA commercial without them getting my credit card information. Can I read the text?”

“Sure, have at it,” he says, unlicking and handing over his phone to her. “Uh, just the last few though.” He tacks that last part on quickly and she just gives him a pointed lift of her sharp eyebrow.

He feels dumb watching Nat skim the texts, he knows he’s overthinking things. But he also knows he’s not going to feel better about any of it until you get here and he can see your face.

“She said she’ll be here, Bradshaw. I don’t know how else you’re reading into this, but I imagine the mental gymnastics must be getting tiring.”

Bradley huffs a laugh, because she’s right.

As always.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “It’s just- I really like her, Nat.”

“Oh, we know. You moon after her with those big cow eyes all the time” she teases, nudging her elbow against his ribs. “But I’ve also seen the way she moons after you too, so relax.”

He can’t fight the small smile that works its way onto his face. The idea of you watching him the same way he knows he looks at you when you’re not looking at him makes his chest fill with warmth.

Nat peers around him and he spins to see who’s just arrived.

“Jesus, Rooster. Aren’t you worried about your dick falling out of those? They’re indecent,” Jake drawls, looking every inch the action hero he thinks he is.

“Please,” Bradley says with a roll of his eyes, “You wish you could pull these off, Bagman. If you got it, flaunt it.”

“I’m flaunting plenty,” Jake counters as he flexes. His shirt is unbuttoned all the way to the waistband of his pants. Although, Bradley is pretty sure Indiana Jones at least had sleeves. “Once your girl sees these abs she might be my girl by the end of the night.”

Seresin shoots him a wink and struts away, the plastic whip on his hip bouncing with every step. Rooster just shakes his head after him, watching as he high fives Javy, who is dressed as The Rock complete with a fanny pack and chain around his neck, in greeting by the sliding glass door that leads to patio.

“I still can’t believe you use to date him,” he ribs Nat lightly.

She plucks his beer out of his hand, claiming it as her own in retaliation. “Me neither,” she grunts, but he hears the hint of affection in her voice.

“Hey, you two look great! Do you need anything?” Mickey asks enthusiastically. His shifty eyes and overly wide smile instantly making Bradley edgy.

“Where’d that trash bag you had earlier go, Fanboy?” he asks warily.

“That’s for me to know and Javy to find out about later,” Mickey says slyly.

Rooster and Nat exchange a look.

This was the thing he was worried about when Cyclone had announced the news earlier in the week that they’d all tentatively have the next couple of months off through the new year. A well-earned break. No extra assignments. No extra transfers or additional training seminars.

Mav had told him in confidence that there was one small deployment that might get approved near Thanksgiving and that he was going to pull some string to see what information he could find out about it. Bradley was hoping that you might ask him to come home with you and meet your parents, so he had his fingers crossed that his name was left off that list.

The mood on base was already light. Mickey and Javy had started a series of pranks against each other that had slowly been escalating over the last few days. And Rooster knew that this extroverted bunch would be leaning in at full force and cutting loose tonight.

“Can you do me a favor, man? Can you hold off on the pranks for an hour, I don’t want you guys to scare her off the second she walks through the door.”

“She’s met us, she knows how we are.”

“I think that’s that point,” Nat quips.

“She likes us and we like her, so what’s there to worry about?” Fanboy asks rhetorically.

“Not all at once,” Bradley mutters.

“Lighten up, Rooster! I’m sure she’ll get here soon. In the meantime, go have some of the Potion of Peril punch that I made. I promise we’ll be on our best behavior. I won’t even ask her to grab something from the fridge for me,” Fanboy says that last part with a concerning laugh as he scurries away.

“You won’t what? Wait, Fanboy, come back,” Rooster calls after Mickey. He sees Payback dressed as Marty McFly coming down the stairs, and catches him. “Reuben, hey, what’s in the fridge?”

“Mickey has been collecting all of our empty jars for weeks now. He filled the damn fridge with jars of heads. It scared the shit out of me the first time I saw all of them. I haven’t been able to find the open container of mayo for days, and I’m tired of eating dry sandwiches.” Payback lets out the biggest sigh and rolls his eyes before he leaves them making his way over towards Coyote and Hangman still by the patio.

“See, Nat? This is what I’m worried about. We’re a lot, in more ways than one.”

Bradley pulls out his phone again, probably for the fifth time since he’s arrived and begins working on a text to send her. There’s nothing wrong with a little heads up and if he can get a little update from you then he’ll consider it a win.

“Well, if it ain’t Rooster,” he hears Hangman call out from across the room.

“We just did this, man,” he tosses back, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Hey! Bradshaw’s girl has got a better set of abs than he does!” someone else calls out.

That gets his attention.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” he grunts irritably, as he tries to put his phone back in his pocket.

He doesn’t get a response because Phoenix is already turning him towards the entryway, the room erupting in a series of hoots and hollers as the rest of the party takes notice of your costume.

You’re shifting a little on your feet under the attention, there’s a small shy smile on your face and you have your pretty eyes already trained on him.

Hangman wasn’t kidding when he said you had a better set of abs than him.

You’re wearing a pair of frayed light blue denim shorts with a truly impressive screen-printed washboard stomach is on full display tucked into them. Over that you had on the Hawaiian print shirt he’d left at your place on accident this morning, it was one of his favorites with all its bright colors, along with a pair of sunglasses dangling from the pocket.

There was no mistaking who you’ve come dressed up as, not with that striking press-on mustache you were wearing.

It’s all he can do to just stand there and stare at you.

You’ve always been so damn beautiful, and even with a felt mustache on your face, you can make his heart pound away in his chest. Not to mention, he really likes the way you look in his shirt.

Your face lights up as you take him in too. Your eyes sweeping over his two-sizes-too-small shirt and the white short-shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

There is such fondness on your face he can’t believe how he’d let himself get so twisted in knots.

He forgets about all of his friends and their commotion as he struts over to you taking your face between his hands and kissing you. You make a little noise of surprise that he uses to his advantage to slip his tongue into your mouth.

When one of his friends catcalls them, he waves them off with one of his hands, and then drops it down to your ass to pull you in closer to him.

A flash goes off, the light bright behind his eyes.

He can feel the laughter bubbling out of your chest before comes out of your mouth, even he fights to tamper down his own amusement in favor of kissing you more.

Pulling away Bradley gently takes your chin between his finger and thumb turning your head left and right to admire your costume of choice, up close and personal.

“I gotta say, sweetheart, you’re really working that mustache.”

“I get your attachment to it. I think I wear it pretty well,” you say looking very pleased with yourself. You reach up and affectionately brush your fingers along his own.

He’d thought about shaving it off for the sake of his costume, but ultimately couldn’t go through with it. And now he’s really glad he didn’t.

“It’s not just that ‘stache you’re wearing well,” Bradley says low just for her, toying with the hem of his shirt draped on you. “You know I like the way you look in my clothes.”

He can’t help up enjoy the way you’re getting bashful under his appreciative gaze and compliments.

“I had to make sure you got the shirt back somehow,” you say with a smile.

“So it can end up on the floor of my bedroom instead?” he teases, kissing your cheek.

“I like the sound of that, and not just because my bedroom looks like a crime scene.” He cocks his head at you, but you just shake your own at him in response before continuing, “But I’m letting you know right now, the mustache is staying on when you have your way with me.”

“You have yourself a deal as long as you share your routine with me,” he murmurs, running a finger down the line of the faux abs of your tank top. “Can’t say I remember seeing these this morning in the shower. I’ve got a girl to impress, so I’d be happy to show you how grateful I am for any tips and tricks.”

“Think you’re doing just fine in those short-short of yours,” you reply, taking a step back to give him a thorough once over, “What inspired this eyeful of an ensemble?”

“I knew the shorts would make my ass look good,” he says with a shrug that send you into a fit of giggles. He’s ready to skip the party all together, in favor of appreciating how good you look outside of your costume. Your eyes are dancing with amusement and he finds himself wanted to admit more, “And because, you know…”

He thought his costume idea had been pretty witty, but now he felt a little sheepish because he didn’t want you to think he was being corny. Sure the shorts had been the thing that sealed the deal, but he’d picked good boy Danny Zuko for a reason.

“No, Bradley, I don’t think I do. Will you explain it to me?”

“Summer lovin’ happened so fast and all that.”

“‘And all that’, huh?” And there’s that look of your, he was absolutely putty in your hands when you looked at him like that. “Ok, ok, but I need to know,” you pause for moment, and look up at him with a very serious expression, “Did you have yourself a blast?”

He watches as you bite your bottom lip trying not to laugh at your own joke.

And in that moment, he just knows.

The sureness had been taking up residence in his bones since he’d first convinced you that trying to keep it casual with you wouldn’t cut it for him.

“Would now be a bad time to tell you that I love you?” he asks, threading his fingers through beltloops to pull you in closer to him.

“While I’m wearing a tank top with a six-pack dressed up as you? Seems a little narcissistic, does it not?” He’s never seen your smile this big or this bright before.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

Rooster pulls you back in for a deep kiss.

“I love you too, Bradley,” you murmur against his lips.

He kisses you until he can’t keep the smile off of his face.

“Hey, Bradshaw!”

Surprised, he pulls away from you to see Nat waving him over. He takes your hand, ready to take you over with him.

“No, not you. The better Bradshaw,” Phoenix announces as she points at you, crooking a finger and holding out a shot syringe for you.

You pull him to you, giving him one more quick before floating over to join Nat near the kitchen.

He’s feeling more than a little dumbstruck in that moment.

And not just from the sight of your shapely legs in those cutoff jean shorts.

Bradley’s feet feel cemented to the wood floors beneath his black hightop converse as he watches you throw your head back in laughter at something Nat says.

He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he thinks his last name looks good on you.

You smile wide and beaming, your eyes shining as you turn to look at him from across the other side of the room.

Yeah, it looks really good on you.

Happy Halloween, Friends! This little moment has been living in my head since I posted my first ever fic on here, 'Oh Christmas Tree'! I'm so glad to finally release it to share with you! Thank you for reading!

If you want to find out what happened next for these two, just follow the link above!

If you're curious about what all of their costumes look like, you can see them here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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lorarri · 2 months

Text

★ . . . 🇰🇷 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 , 𝐓𝐘𝟐𝟐

summary , the princess of kpop is on hiatus japan with a special someone but people are in denial until they publicly confirm it

pairing , yuki tsunoda x fem! kpop idol! reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | f1 masterlist | f1 grid masterlist

BABY

hey bby just booked the flight to japan

YUKI BBY

okie bby can't wait to see you

cuz dear god are the boys annoying me

BABY

what happened bae?

YUKI BBY

they were all just making fun of me for being "single" and not having dating rumors

BABY

dw bae we are gonna shut them up in a bit

YUKI BBY

okay baby

can't wait to see you

love you

yourinstagram

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yourinstagram time I tokyo

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user UMMM SLIDE 3?!??!

user brb I'm gonna sleep on the highway tonight

pierregasly wonder who that is

user RUE WHEN WAS THIS

user pierre if you know something THEN PLEASE FUCKING SHARE WITH THE CLASS PLEASE

user who tf is he

user me as a f1 x kpop girly is laughing rn

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yukitsunoda0511 . 3hrs ago

seen by pierregasly yourinstagram 76,898,241 others

danielricciardo replied to your story!

why was I not informed there was a mrs tsunoda!?!??!

landonorris replied to your story!

simp

maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

double date soon?

pierregasly replied to your story!

when we were together you never bought me dinner yuki

youragency and yourinstagram . 1hrs ago

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anon ─ here' a promot for S.Korea!S.Korea:Couple: Yuki x KpopPrincess!YNFace Claim: Wheein from MamamooStoryline:Yuki is being teased by a few of the drivers for staying single or having no dating rumor at all! And yuki shrugs them off. But during the summer break suddenly Dispatch/Koreaboo release an article stating that YN the princess of kpop was seen in Japan having fun during her hiatus and the photo shows YN and badly hidden Yuki Tsunoda having fun at a kartinh circuit with friendsSo, at first alot of YN and YT fans ignore dispatch's claims that the kpop super star and f1 driver are dating.But jokes on the fans because during thw remaining days of the summer break YN and YT starting posting and their friends start commenting on the posts like "Like heeey where's my invitation to get ice cream 🧐" (but yn and yuki dont confirm the relationship yet!!)Slowly a few fans start wondering if thw rumors are really true….but alooot of people still don't believe that YN and Yuki are together! That is until YN debuts in the paddock on the first race after summer break! And Yuki is holding YN at the waist as they walk towards the AT hospitality!So everyone is SHOCK!!! And Pierre is like you must really have strong rizz game because how did you bag THE YN?!!!hours after the race YN's agency releases a statement about the relationship which at the end has a note from YN saying "Please respect my relationship I'm genuinely 100% happy with Yuki"After the announcement, YN and Yuki post on their accounts about confirming their relationship

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 3 months

Text

Name Your Price — Amren x Reader (Starfall Week)

Hiiii! Here’s my little piece for @starfallweek 2024. I hope you all like it 💕my beautiful soulmate @greeneyedivy helped me name it 💅🏻

I used the prompt “character A finally makes a move on character B”. I’ve never written for Amren before so this was quite fun!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.9k

“You’re sure you don’t want me to fly you back up?”

Cassian cocks an eyebrow at you, the steadiness of his hold dissipating as he tugs his arms from around you. Though your feet are on solid ground, it takes a moment for your equilibrium to right itself. Being in the skies is something you haven’t yet become accustomed to, despite three of your closest friends sporting wings. And being flown on Starfall is an experience entirely of its own.

“You’ll miss the best part,” Cass complains, peering up at the dark canopy above you. The sky is beginning to stir as the stars ready themselves for their journeys. It won’t be long before they’re soaring and crossing.

And tempting as it is to stay and watch the sight that never lessens in its magnificence, you feel…different this year. Like there’s somewhere else you ought to be. Someone else you ought to be with.

“I’m sure,” you dip your chin. “You go, Cass. Enjoy it.”

But he doesn’t move. He studies you head to toe, studies every shred of effort you put into your appearance — hair and makeup perfected, a stunning outfit hugging your body. You feel beautiful, no doubt — and yet you’re leaving after a mere hour of drinking on the balcony with your friends.

“You know she’s just going to be holed up in her apartment with the curtains drawn,” Cass says. “She hates Starfall.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who.”

Amren.

Is it little bit humiliating that you’re so damn transparent? Perhaps. But Cass is one of your closest companions — you can hardly expect him to believe that you’re simply leaving to return to your own home and switch your stunning dress for your pyjamas.

You shrug a shoulder. “I just want to check on her, is all.”

“Hmm,” your friend’s lips twitch. “I’m sure.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his ludicrously huge arm. “Go back to the party,” but you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you — for flying me.”

“Good luck with the tiny little rain cloud. She’ll be even crankier tonight than usual.”

With a lopsided smirk and a fond — and annoying — mussing of your hair, he launches back into the sky and heads back to the House of Wind. You stare after him, wondering if you’re making the right choice.

Because when Amren says she wants to be left alone, she means it. But…you don’t know. Things have been changing. Things have been…different.

This is your third Starfall, since your move to the Night Court after the war. A native of the Day Court, it had surprised you to find yourself so at home in a place of starlight, so opposite to what you’d always known. But as one of Helion Spell-Cleaver’s nearest and dearest, you’d worked closely with Rhysand and his Inner Circle during those fraught times of battle and bloodshed — and bonded with them far more than you’d ever expected yourself to. Become an honorary member of their unit, so to speak.

And when Rhysand had courteously invited you for a visit to Velaris after the war was over, you’d known from the second your feet had touched the cobbled streets — this was where you were supposed to be.

Three years later, with a home here, a job as a Night courtier…it was hard to imagine you’d ever been anywhere else.

And perhaps the most notable and unexpected connection you’d forged was the one you had with the with the tiny creature whose barbed, edged words were — you’d learned — a sign of affection.

You did not understand Amren one bit. She was a mystery you couldn’t puzzle out, a being that was sometimes so harsh, it was hard to believe she had any warmth in her at all. But Rhysand giving the two of you a subject he’d needed you to research together had brought you closer, over the recent months. Had shredded through that trepidation you’d once felt around her and shifted it into something…different. Something exciting.

You find that try as you might, you can’t stay away.

And that’s how you find yourself strolling those cobbled streets of Velaris, dressed up to the nines and stars beginning to burst above you. You could be spectating the brilliant sight with your friends, but something tugs you towards the other side of the city. To the loft apartment with the sloping windows and the strange, intriguing female who dwells within

Indeed, as you approach, you find those windows to be blacked out. Blocking out the sight of what is occurring in the skies. You almost smile, but now you’re nervous and second-guessing yourself a little. You could turn away, go home — in all likelihood, Amren won’t want to see you.

But tonight feels different. Tonight feels like a reckoning.

So you swallow your nerves and decide you’re doing this.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You knock once, and a voice that is both nightmare and fantasy calls out, “Go away!”

Not unusual for Amren. She tells guests to go away, even when she’s invited them.

So you brace a hand against the door and call back, “It’s me.”

There’s a beat. And then small footsteps are padding closer. There are the sounds of bolts being undone, locks clicking. Whatever it is Amren feels she needs keep out is little more than a distant thought as she yanks the door open just a tad and eyes you suspiciously through the gap. Her steely gaze takes in your dress, hair, makeup. She lifts her chin.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

You shrug. Feel a little pathetic as you answer, “I thought I’d come see what you’re up to.”

“Why.”

“Perhaps I find your company to be just slightly more scintillating than Cassian’s.”

At that, there’s the briefest twitch of her lips. She masks it expertly. “A dead rat has more to offer in the way of company than that boy.”

You snort, rubbing at your arms. Goosebumps are pebbling your skin. The air is too brisk to comfortably be stood in for too long.

Amren studies you again, and too quickly for you to register, she’s widening the gap in the door and yanking you in by the front of your dress. She slams the door shut and gets to work refastening the bolts, sliding across the chains, securing every lock. It’s all you can do to stand and watch.

And then she turns to face you with a neutral expression — one that says that if you find anything peculiar about her behaviour, shut the fuck up. You know she won’t tell you what’s got her so on edge, so you don’t bother asking.

Instead, you turn, still rubbing at your chilled skin, and study the general disarray of her huge, open-plan studio apartment. Her bed is unmade, her trinkets and baubles scattered across various surfaces. And on the numerous overlapping rugs that cover the floor, a gathering of books, some stacked in a pile, others tossed aside, a few open on certain pages. It would seem she is spending the night going over your recent research.

“Perhaps a drink?” you ply, angling away from the mess.

She quirks a dark eyebrow. “Tell me, what is it about you and the others barging into my home and making demands of me?”

“I believe it’s customary to offer your guests refreshments.”

“I believe I didn’t ask for guests in the first place.”

Her words, to anyone outside your circle, would sound so sharp, so harsh. But you know Amren, now. That last sentence vaguely translates another meaning: I wasn’t expecting guests, but thank you for coming. Of course I’ll get you a drink.

Not that she’d ever say that in a million fucking years.

She saunters past you, towards the kitchen area. As she goes, she closes the open books and throws them onto the stacks. Picks up empty glasses.

“Don’t clean up on my account,” you say, knowing full well that she isn’t.

“I’m not,” she confirms. “I don’t want your clumsy feet treading on anything,” she places the empty glasses in the sink and turns to you. “What do you want to drink? There’s wine, wine, or wine.”

“I’ll have the wine, then.”

With the barest incline of her head, she turns her back to you. While she’s occupied, you take a moment to study the covered windows, everything that blocks out what’s occurring outside. Even the skylights are covered, and your lips twitch at the thought of her wrestling her way up there to fasten drapes over them.

It’s all so methodical, so thought out. And though you know she’d probably never tell you, you can’t help wanting to break down that barrier and know the more vulnerable side to her that is so unsettled by this holiday.

A glass is placed in your hand, and you clear your throat, ripping your gaze away from the skylight — but not fast enough for Amren not to notice.

“It unsettles me,” she says drily, surprising you.

You try your hardest not to blink at the offered snippet of information. “What does?”

“Starfall. What it is. What it signifies.” Taking a slow sip of her wine, she sits on the rug. You follow suit. “Those stars, beings, whatever you want to call them…they are on a journey. Going from one place to another. Perhaps from one world to another. That was once me.”

“…and that unsettles you…”

“Perhaps I know one of them, from many, many years ago. Perhaps they are an associate of a time and a world long-forgotten. A past friend or foe or—”

“A lover?” you supply. You’re not sure you mean to say it.

But Amren’s grey eyes slide to you, and one side of her mouth lifts into a wicked grin, bearing sharp white teeth. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes. No. I suppose I know nothing of your personal relationships. Of what you like.”

“I like what I like, and I hate what I don’t like.”

You stare at her, thoroughly annoyed and thoroughly entertained. Speaking with Amren is so often trickery and riddles. No matter how much you may feel like you’re getting somewhere, she always leads you on a merry dance that circles you back to the first step.

“And what of you?” she asks, surprising you.

Your eyes snag on the way her razor-sharp black hair moves as she angles her head. The ends tickle the column of her long, creamy neck, adorned with a jewelled necklace. For one moment, for some reason, the sight makes your head empty.

But you shake yourself out of the bizarre reaction and ask, “What of me?”

“What do you like?” Amren asks.

You almost snort as you take a long sip of your wine. Amren is simply not somebody who asks questions about other people very often. And the topic of your love life seems like one that would be trivial and pointless to her.

“Are you asking because you want to know?” you smile. “Or to be polite?”

Another flash of those brilliant teeth. “Have you ever known me to be polite?”

“I suppose not, no.”

“So tell me, girl, what takes your fancy?”

Draining your glass, you set it aside and lounge back, bracing yourself on your hands. And perhaps the wine is already commanding your mind and blurring lines — because it tells you to glance down at the full lips in front of you, painted with red that’s deepened by the dark nectar she sips at.

You do.

Amren watches. The air seems to shift.

“Pour me another glass,” your voice comes out huskier than you intend, “and I’ll tell you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Lions?”

Rare, for Amren to sound like anything besides being perpetually bored. An hour or so later — and too many glasses later — the two of you are sprawled back on the rug, staring at the ceiling.

“Helion keeps lions?” she turns her head to quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh in your voice. “Very real, very fucking huge lions.”

“I rather thought that Pegasuses were his thing.”

“They are. But his lions are a prided jewel of his — and a court secret that I absolutely should not be sharing with you.”

Her petite, lithe body rolls onto its side. She crooks her arm at the elbow and rests her chin there, staring at you through glazed, grey eyes.

It takes only a beat of eye contact for you both to break into laughter.

This is…unusual. And nice. Though the two of you have undoubtedly been growing closer, Amren always has a glass wall up that allows you to peer through but not penetrate. Tonight is the first night that you feel that…that you might be on the other side of that wall. That she might be letting her guard down for you.

You like it. A lot.

The laughter thinning out, she stares at you. It’s a little strange to see those sharp, angled features not appear harsh and ready to slice at anyone. She appears…open. Almost normal.

“Lions,” she repeats, in something like wonderment. “And they just roam about his private estate? Are they tame?”

“He has sprawls of private land on which they can roam freely,” you tell her. “That land is guarded very well, from anyone he doesn’t wish to share the sight with. The lions are very tame. There’s a rumour — though I never got Helion to confirm it — that they once walked on two legs and spoke our language. That thousands of years ago, a curse bound them to their feline form that even Helion’s vast libraries hold no answer to cracking. And since they weren’t able to break the curse, he and his predecessors set to ensure that they would, at least, always be safe and accommodated and able to live comfortably as they are. If it’s true, they seem perfectly happy in their lion bodies.”

“So Helion allowed you access to them? What are they like?”

You smile — at the images that the question conjures up, and the fact that you hold Amren’s interest enough for her to ask it at all. It makes you feel…proud, somehow. Like the cat that got the cream.

“Amazing,” you rest your arms behind your head, taking yourself back to that private land on which you spent so much time — just you and the lions. “They’re just…regal. The males have huge, brilliant manes. The females are so lithe and elegant. The cubs are painfully adorable. There are families of them. Sometimes, they fight. Often, they play. They love to snooze in the sun and frolic in the long grass. The youngsters love splashing each other in the lake. If they recognise you as someone they can trust, you can comfortably sit with them and stroke their fur. They especially like you if you bring them food.”

There’s such a long pause as Amren takes in your words that after a short while, your eyes slide to her, half expecting to find her asleep. But she simply stares at you. Quiet. Assessing.

“I think I would like to see lions,” she says after a moment. To her, it seems to be a huge confession. Something not easy to admit.

You study the perfect lines of her face. That face that appears in your thoughts when you’re trying to sleep, think about absolutely anything but her. You’re not sure you like how drawn you are to her. She’s so unreachable that it only makes you reach harder. So difficult to work out that sometimes, you question if she delights in your company at all.

It is, after all, you who always seeks her out. Since you began your research together, it’s been you who has found excuses to see her.

You who barged your way into her home tonight, while stars collided above you.

And you who might do something unwise if you stay any longer.

You clear your throat, breaking eye contact. Your head feels as though it’s filled with cotton as you sit up and announce, “Perhaps I should go.”

Amren pauses. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to take up your entire evening.”

“You could stay,” she also sits up, tucking her legs beneath her. “You never did tell me what it is you like.”

You take a moment to just…breathe. You’re not used to Amren being so…warm. It’s dangerous. Exciting. You don’t know if it’s safe.

Slowly, you turn on the floor to face her. “I’m not sure you’d appreciate the answer.”

A dark eyebrow arches. She likes doing that. “Tell it to me anyway.”

Should you? Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you’ll tell her that thoughts of her keep you awake, not in the forms of nightmares but in the allure of fantasies. Maybe then she’ll cease all work she does with you, and distance herself from you, and you can rid yourself of these feelings—

“You are what I like,” you speak quickly, flushing hot. “Who I like. I was thankful when Rhysand tasked us to work together, because I was already drawn to you. It seems I can’t stay away—”

A flash of dark hair, the potent scent of perfume and wine, are the only warnings you get before Amren is in your face, her perfect mouth sliding over yours. Wine is the overpowering taste of the kiss, but there are hints of other things behind it — sweet vanilla and something floral.

It takes you by surprise, no doubt. But you push the shock away and sink into the rightness of it. Your shoulders slump, body loosening. You slide a hand up to tentatively cup Amren’s cheek, and you kiss her back.

What starts out slow and explorative quickly builds into something that steals the very air from your lungs. Your bodies seem to move in perfect synchronisation, finding the right positions from which the kiss can deepen and grow. Amren kneels between your legs, and a sharp tooth gives the slightest, twinging bite to your lower lip — one that makes you gasp.

The act is deliberate. She slides her tongue into your mouth, folding it around yours. Your tastes mingle until you’re not sure which is yours and which is hers, and that simply will not do. You want her on your tongue. The flavour of her skin and that scent of hers that is quickly growing stronger, thicker, shifting into something else that you would commit sins to taste.

Your fingers sink into Amren’s hair, and she makes a low noise that could be a warning or a plea. The strands, despite always looking sharp enough to slice through rock, are silken, soft. You fist them in your palm and tilt her head back to kiss her deeper.

But she pulls away, her heavy breaths landing on your lips. Her eyes meet yours, and it’s the first time you see her looking anything besides…steeled. Composed.

She looks flustered. Like pulling away from your mouth was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I don’t know what this means,” she blurts.

The admission makes you pause. You agree, “Neither do I.”

“No—not just this. What you do to me. I don’t know what any of this means,” she narrows her eyes at you, almost accusatory. “Emotions like these have always felt pointless to me, but you…”

“…but me?”

“You…” the word is leaden on her tongue. “You are different.”

Her gaze slides to your mouth again, and you can tell that her comfort is in articulating her feelings with actions, not words.

And that is just fine by you.

Like she reads the encouragement straight from your thoughts, a breathy word escapes her. “Yes.”

And then she’s fastening her lips on yours again and stamping out every shred of confusion. No matter what either of you are unable to say, the dance of your mouths can speak it all. For now, no more than that is necessary.

Amren kisses you, and you kiss her. It’s deep, desperate, yearning. It’s bigger than anything and everything. The stars that race through the sky pale in comparison.

This is the real beauty of this night. The real thing you had hoped for. It could end no better way.

You kiss until your mouths are bruised and tender. Until the taste of wine is gone, and there’s nothing but the two of you on your tongues. For all you know, the rest of the world outside this apartment could have disappeared. You’re not sure you care.

You’re the one to pull away this time, but you don’t move far. You part your lips to gulp down breaths and press your forehead to Amren’s. Your voice is a rasp as you joke, “You better not be kissing me just so I’ll show you the lions.”

She laughs — actually laughs. It’s a short, brusque chortle, but it makes you glow with pride.

But she quickly sobers. Her face is serious once more, her eyes drinking you in.

“I’m kissing you, girl,” she says, “because I think about you too much. Because the very first time I laid eyes on you, it scared me — what I might do to look at you forever.”

You try to mask your surprise. You hadn’t realised—

“It was me who suggested to Rhysand that you and I should work together,” she admits. She pulls back a little, as if urging you to read the honesty on her face. “It felt pathetic and foolish, but I did it to be close to you. I can’t stop myself wanting to be close to you.”

Exactly the same feelings you had tortured yourself with all this time. To think that Amren had agonised over it just as you had is comforting, somehow.

You reach out a hand, pinching a strand of her soft hair between your fingers. She watches the action closely.

“Don’t stop yourself wanting it,” you say, not at all sure that it isn’t a plea. “Don’t stop yourself, when I want it, too.”

“…I’m not used to being…unsure of things.”

“Embrace it,” you offer a smile. “Have fun with it.” With me.

She stares at you, brooding and calculating. You wait for her to decide that this is too out of the realms of familiarity. She won’t allow herself to be so vulnerable.

But then she moves her hand to yours — the one still touching her hair. Slowly, tentatively, she laces your fingers together. She stares down at your joined hands as though the sight is alien, fascinating.

“Stay,” she eventually says, glancing up at you. There’s an undertone in her voice, an inference.

“…the entire night?” you hedge. You try to keep the hopefulness out of your tone.

Her red lips lift into a smirk, grey eyes glimmering. “On one condition.”

“Name your price.”

Your heart picks up as she leans in again. Her hair tickles your cheek, and she watches closely as your skin flushes at the proximity. Her lips hover against yours.

But instead of kissing you, she whispers four words that land straight on your waiting mouth.

“Show me the lions.”

#starfall week #starfall week 2024 #starfall #amren #amren acotar #amren x reader #amren fic #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar fic #prompt

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wonwoosthetic · 4 months

Note

After todays live I need a more of mimiwon living together😭😭😭

< series masterlist

word count – 4.8 k

pairing – wonwoo x minnie x mingyu

a/n – that live literally made me squeal like what the hell why are they so freaking sweet and domestic like that😭😭 I totally understand the desperate need for more mimiwon domesticity after that, I hope you enjoy this ˙ᵕ˙

A Package And A Welcome Back 🌷 Minnie

With a grunt, Minnie took a step back from the heavy package by her feet. Annoyance dripped from her lips with every huff she let out. For a good few minutes already, she had been trying to get the cardboard box from the hallway over the door's threshold, too stubborn for her own good to get some help from the stronger member inside the apartment. Wonwoo had retreated into their bedroom after a headache had started ruining his day. The girl had tried to start a discussion with him, explaining the reason for his condition would probably be the multiple hours he had been spending in front of his PC during their break, but was quick to shut it down, and let him rest. While he was trying to get a few hours of quiet study time in their bed, she had busied herself with catching up on the latest hometown gossip over the phone with her mum. She was interrupted by the notification on her phone, telling her her parcel had arrived, making her end the already two-hour-long call and sprint to the front door, only to be surprised by the size of the box right in front of her.

Minnie was aware of the fact that a desk chair would hardly be delivered in a tiny parcel, yet she didn't expect the weight that it came with, which only added to her frustration.

One last time, she took a deep breath, crouched down, making sure the heel of her right foot was keeping the door from closing on her - oh how she cursed the heavy door this apartment had come with - and got her hands on the strapping tape of the box. Her hair was already put up into a high ponytail, only getting even more annoyed as soon as even only one strand fell into her face.

With the last bit of strength she had left in her body, Minnie tried to pull the package towards her, lifting it slightly to go over the doorstep.

Finally, she managed to get it into their apartment, at least an inch. A proud smile made her lips curl as she glanced down to where the box had tilted to hit the floor of their personal hallway area. Just as she was about to let her foot go, now that the parcel would hold the door open and she could try to push it in from the other side, the weight from her heel was suddenly lifted. With a soft gasp, she turned around, coming to sight with the '96 Liner and naked torso. The hair he had decided to grow longer was sticking out in every direction possibly, not caring to fix it as they were only spending time at home.

"What are you doing?" Wonwoo wondered with scrunched eyebrows. He fixed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, peeking past the girl's frame to look at the box in front of them with a frown. "What's that?"

"The chair I ordered," Minnie simply answered, making her way to the other side now that he was holding onto the door. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she didn't waste another second, cutting him off along the way, "Can you move to the side?" She ushered him to take a step back as she tried to shove the box further inside with her hands, only for it to barely move. With a huff, she mumbled, "I'm so done-"

"Let me." Wonwoo was quick to interrupt her, shooing her away from her spot, "Hold the door," demanding her to switch positions. The girl obliged, jogging back to where he was standing, opening the door just a slight bit more, giving him more room.

With one quick strong push from Wonwoo, the packet was fully moved into the hallway, hitting the tiled floor of their entryway. Next issue: getting it over the small step since the tiled part was a little bit lower than the rest of the hardwood that dragged out through the rest of the apartment.

"Why did you order it to our address?" The rapper asked her as he moved back to be next to her, getting a hold of the strapping tape and lifting it up with a deep breath. "Since when do you do that?"

"I didn't," Minnie defended herself. For safety reasons, the company had asked them years and years ago to keep big purchases to their private addresses to a minimum. "They sent it to Hana's place first, then she sent it to me." She explained, mentioning her friend who was only a district away from them. Her eyes were trained on his hands and arms, flexing with each movement due to the heavy weight of her delivery, grinning to herself.

Once he had managed to pull the package further into their place, Minnie was able to close the door, a big smile now on her face.

"Thank you," she sang, skipping over to him to place a kiss on his cheek along with a pat on the back while he was fixing his hair. "I didn't want to interrupt you, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he sighed, "you could've gotten me for this. Wait-" Just as she was about to start pushing her delivery over the hardwood floor, he stopped her, already crouching down again. "Don't push it."

"Why not?"

"You're gonna scrape the floor with this," pointing at the straps around the box.

Minnie sighed with a chuckle, "Since when do you care about that?"

Wonwoo shook his head, a soft smile on his lips, "I just don't want Mingyu to complain when he comes back. You think you can lift it?"

She shook her head, "No way."

"I'll lift it first from here. You'll just have to try to get it off the floor. Even just a millimetre, okay?" He explained, but the girl continued to shake her head.

"I tried to do that before! I couldn't," she argued.

The rapper sighed, "But I'll help you now. Just try it."

She gave in, a look of defeat written across her face. With a deep breath, she bent her knees, waiting for her partner to lift the weight off the floor first before she could get her hands on it. She gathered the last bits of strength left in her body and lifted the box, truly only getting it maybe an inch up in the air.

"Oh my god," she grunted out loud in exhaustion, desperately wanting to let go before her strength would give in.

Waddling along in the direction Wonwoo was leading them, she noticed him not stopping as they passed the living room, but continuing his way further into the apartment, closer to where the bedroom-turned-dressing and make-up room was.

"No, no, sto- stop-", she nudged her head closer towards their living space, "Put it down here." He didn't question her demand, but went after it immediately and changed the direction towards their coffee table setting it down right next to it. Minnie just let the package drop.

"Careful," Wonwoo cautioned her, but the girl shook her head. With her hands on her waist, she shook her head,

"That was so heavy..."

The rapper chuckled at her state, his hand coming up to pet over the top of her head before he walked away towards their kitchen.

"I hate you guys," she mumbled under her breath, dropping down onto the floor with a heavy chunk of air falling from her lips.

"All of a sudden?" Wonwoo grinned, knowing she was just letting free of her frustration.

"Why do you get to have it so easy with carrying shit like this?" She wondered out loud, "Can you get me a-" Cutting herself off as he was already on his way back to her, holding the pair of scissors she was about to ask for. "Thank you," she smiled up at him.

He was about to throw himself onto the couch but decided to make a detour into their bedroom where he had left his sweater, having taken it off merely an hour ago.

"I told you," he continued to talk to her, raising his voice, so she'd still be able to hear him from the other room, "you could start going to the gym with us."

"And I told you that I don't want that," she stated back as she got to work by cutting the strapping tape. "I don't want to bulk up."

"I'm not saying you have to bulk up. We just said that you might want to build up a little bit of muscle," he explained, already back, throwing the sweater over his body while walking. "Just a bit." Wonwoo threw himself onto the couch with a huff, his eyes on the girl, who had already cut open the box and was emptying it of the added styrofoam.

"No," she simply said. "I'll leave that to you guys. I just want to look good and lean. So," she looked over at him teasingly, "Pilates it is."

"That way you'll never be able to lift something like this by yourself. You're always gonna have to ask us for help," he explained, a soft smile on his lips as he let the words register in his mind. always...

Minnie grinned brightly, "That's the plan," getting a deep chuckle from the rapper in return. He had scooched up, sitting on the edge of the cushions as he watched her lifting each part of the chair out of the box.

"Separately they're not even that heavy," she stated, carefully placing them on the floor around her.

Wonwoo's eyes fell on the plastic wrap, where the chair could already be seen. "You ordered it in white?"

"That's beige, not white," Minnie glanced up at him, coming to sight with slight confusion in his eyes.

"Why not black?"

The girl scrunched her eyebrows as she shook her head, stopping her movements, "That would look so weird in the dressing room. Half of our clothes are already so dark. And my make-up desk is white. I didn't want it to look so modern with a black chair." She looked into the box, getting the last part of the assemble out of the cardboard. "I think the beige looks a lot nicer."

Wonwoo nodded in agreement, mostly just as a confirming reaction to show her he was listening.

Once she got down on her knees, moving on to cutting and ripping the plastic off, the '96 Liner pushed himself up again, taking a few steps forward to start picking up the separate pieces of styrofoam now lying on the floor. He put each one back into the box before getting a hold of that and bringing it into the hallway. One of them would remember to bring it downstairs to the trash at some point.

With a smug smile on his face, he went back into the living room, seeing Minnie glancing around the floor, clearly looking for something.

"You're not gonna get far, without this," he lifted his hand that was holding onto the manual he had found at the very base of the box which she had seemed to ignore.

She looked up, seeing just what she was looking for in his grip but before she could even ask him to hand over the booklet, he got down in front of her, crossing his legs before he sat down.

"But do we really need that? I think most of it is self-explanatory," she wondered, moving over to what seemed to be the base of the chair, only with the wheel yet to be attached.

"Is it?" He asked her teasingly, "Do you know that you need a screwdriver for this?"

"As if!" Minnie groaned out loud, letting herself fall onto her back.

Wonwoo got up again to make his way to their little storage room, where they should still have the bag of screwdrivers Mingyu's dad had given them when they first moved in together.

"I already don't wanna do this," she complained with a chuckle, laughing at the motivation that left her body almost instantly. Only a few days ago was she jumping around and singing along to Taylor Swift songs right in front of her and now she's back in her own apartment being faced with the reality of her absolute lack of motor skills.

Wonwoo joined her again, taking the metal frame from her grip, so he could get started by fixing the wheels onto it. Minnie let him have his moment with the manual booklet before she snatched it off the floor, flipping a few pages forward so she could get started on the seating part of the chair. Her eyes glided over the given pictures, making a mental note of the tool she'd need.

She bent forward, propping herself up by her hands to get a good look at the screwdriver set Wonwoo had brought.

"What are you looking for?" He asked her, not taking his eyes or hands off his own task.

"One that looks like a star. A small star," she told him before falling quiet again, letting the soft voices from the TV in the back fill the room. Her gaze fixated on the skinny black metal stick that seemed to have the shape she was looking for.

"Found it," she let him know quietly, making Wonwoo just take a quick peed as she sat back again, getting her hands on the backrest and seat of what was to become a chair.

The couple worked in silence together, each of them doing what they had decided to work on separately for a few minutes. The '96 Liner finished first, setting the metal rack, now on wheels, proudly onto the floor. His attention diverted towards the girl, who was just about to end her task with the last two screws having to be put in to secure everything together.

Wonwoo was just about to stare at the TV, the background noise suddenly becoming a lot more interesting than either of them had anticipated when a separate part that was still lying around freely caught his eye.

"What's that?" He pointed to the cushion on the girl's left.

"Huh?" Minnie wondered, looking at him first before following the invisible line his finger had created. "The thing to put your legs up."

"On a chair?"

"Yeah..." she finished pushing the first screw in, moving onto the second one, "I showed you a picture before I ordered it. It's so you can sit criss-cross on it or put your knees on it."

The lightbulb in his head lit up. "Oooh... yeah, yeah, I remember. But it looked really weird."

"Yeah," the girl chuckled, "but also very comfortable. And they said that it helps with your posture," she looked up, meeting his eyes, which were already trained on her. "So maybe we should get one for you too. Or you can put this one in your room first and see if you like it."

Her comment made him laugh out loud and shake his head, "My posture isn't bad." To which Minnie just lifted her head, giving him a bland facial expression. She could be very nice and keep her mouth shut or be honest and make him face reality.

"Wonwoo-"

But he was quick to cut her off, "It's not that bad. You're overreacting."

"Wonwoo, it is."

"It's not," he simply stated, standing up to walk away from the conversation.

"Even now when you're sitting down, you're hunched over!"

"That's normal. Most people sit like that."

Minnie nodded, "Yeah, and most people have back problems when they're older."

Wonwoo brushed her comment off with a hand movement, wanting to continue their original task as the girl had finished her part as well. The '97 Liner continued to look up at him as he started on assembling the two separate pieces, once again, hunched over.

"I don't need you complaining to me about how much your back hurts in forty years," she commented.

In forty years... he liked the sound of that.

"Our backs will hurt either way because of all the training," Wonwoo tried to reason with her, but Minnie shook her head, continuing to make her point.

"Mine won't. Pilates helps with that. Mine might start hurting in like sixty years.

Sixty years sounded even better.

With a sigh, the rapper straightened his back, glancing down at the female member who wouldn't stop rambling. He couldn't help but let the corners of his lips curl up in adoration.

"I'll work on it once I get there," he told her, needing to switch subjects again. "Can you pass me the thing for the legs?"

"Once you get there?" Minnie turned around, lifting it up with both her hands, surprised by the weight of the rest. "Once your back is already hurting so much, it'll be too late to help with that."

"Let that be my problem-" he tried to say, but was interrupted when she shot up from her position on the floor, ready to assist him with assembling the final parts.

"You know exactly it won't be just your problem, but our problem. If you don't start any time soon, you-"

Wonwoo didn't let her finish, but cupped her cheek in his hand, knowing a kiss on her forehead would shut her up immediately. "I'll put it in my room today and use it while I'm sitting at my desk, okay?" He looked down at her now smiling up at him.

Minnie nodded proudly, "Thank you," placing a quick peck on his palm.

"If my back isn't straight by the end of the week, we're sending it back." The girl laughed at the sudden comment being thrown out into the room, making her hit his upper arm as he chuckled at her reaction. Once they caught themselves again, their attention was back on the still-not-finished chair in front of them.

Minnie crouched down to hold the legs still while Wonwoo tried to the seating cushion aligned with the pole it had to slide onto. With both of their hands on the task, they managed to get it done quicker than expected, making the female member stare at it with scrunched eyebrows.

"That's it? We don't have to secure it?" She wondered when the rapper was already going through the manual booklet again, mindlessly nodding.

"It says it'll lock in. Did it do that?"

Minnie shrugged her shoulders, bending down to get a look underneath the chair. Holding onto each part separately, she started shaking it, trying to see if it was properly together or would fall apart.

In the midst of their testing, the sound of the pin-lock on their front door being opened echoed through the room.

"Mingyu?" Wonwoo raised his voice, tilting his head to try and get a glimpse into the hallway.

"Yeah, it's me!" The '97 Liner's cheery voice came back. The younger rapper had just arrived from his trip to the US with Joshua, expecting a warm welcome with the patter of feet over the hardwood floor and arms being thrown around him. The lack of exactly that confused him.

"Hiii!" The girl shouted at him before her attention was back on what seemed to be more important to her at that moment. "I think it's fixed. It doesn't feel loose," she stated, straightening her back before taking a seat on the now-finished chair.

"OOH, it's comfortable!" She grinned up at the rapper, who smiled at her reaction. With a gentle shake of his head, he let her be, taking the booklet to the cupboard underneath their TV area, where they usually kept each manual they'd get with new items for their apartment.

Now happy and contained, Minnie immediately tried out the added feature of the seat, putting her legs up on the rest, and crossing them.

"This is so much better than a normal chair, oh my God."

Mingyu, confused by what was happening, entered the living room with Wonwoo right next to him as he had just greeted him. "What are you doing?" His eyes landed on the girl, who had started rolling across the floor excitedly.

She turned her head before letting the rest of her body and seat follow, "We built this," she told him with a big smile.

"Is that the one you ordered?" He asked her, taking a few steps closer to get a better look.

Minnie nodded before raising both of her arms, happiness still plastered on her face as she waited for him to lean into her. With a grin, Mingyu started moving into her embrace, his hands moving to her back. He placed a quick kiss on her lips before closing the hug, engulfing her in his much stronger arms.

"I missed you," she admitted with a whisper.

The rapper chuckled, "I'm sure you did," patting her back along with it.

"I really did," she smacked him in return.

Just as he was about to let go again, she made sure to tighten her arms around his neck, before lifting both of her legs as well, wrapping them around his waist. Her action got a loving giggle in return as he pulled her in just a little tighter, making sure not to drop her even with her intense grip on him.

"I really did miss you," she repeated once again.

"I know, I know," he chuckled, kissing her cheeks. "How was Changwon?" He mentioned the quick trip she and Wonwoo decided to take early on in their given free time while he was on the other side of the world with the '95 Liner.

"Good," Minnie pulled her head back to get a better look at the '97 Liner. Her eyes graced over his face, her lips curling up in the process. She opened her mouth but was interrupted by a sudden sharp feeling against her ass as Wonwoo passed them and decided to slap it.

"Hey!" Her head shot towards the chuckling rapper who was making his way into the kitchen. "Rude..."

Mingyu smiled to himself, realising just how much he had missed his home. Their little interactions, her giggles...

He carried her to join the '96 Liner by the counters, placing her on top of the bar area, making her loosen the embrace as soon as she felt the cold stone underneath her.

"You got a tan," Minnie pointed out with a smile, her fingers tracing the side of his face.

The rapper nodded, "A little bit, yeah..."

"It looks good," she assured him, knowing that even after all these years of people around him trying to convince him that his tan only added to his level of attractiveness, he had yet to fully believe it.

"Thank you," he grinned at her, leaning forward to give her another peck, that she reciprocated, cupping his cheek to pull him closer, not letting him go all that quickly after not seeing him for a good week.

When he was finally able to pull back, he rounded the corner to join Wonwoo on the other side of the counter as he was scrolling through his phone, trying to find something they could order for lunch as they had yet to eat.

"You want to cook?" He asked the younger rapper, who shook his head with his lips pressed together,

"No, not today. I'll make something tomorrow." Passively agreeing to order in. He diverted his attention back to the girl. "How was the concert?" He asked her, already having been kept up-to-date of course through text messages and short phone calls, but as soon as he saw her eyes lit up, he knew it was only right of him to ask her again.

"I..." Minnie started, "I really don't know how to explain it," she chuckled to herself. "Like... it was... it was like an out-of-body experience. I don't remember most of the first night."

"What? How could you forget that?" Mingyu wondered, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"I cried for most of it." Her comment got a chuckle from each of the guys in front of her. "What?!" She laughed along with them. "I saw the biggest musician of our time, of course, I'm gonna cry."

"Or it's just because you're emotional," the '97 Liner tried to argue, but the female member was having none of it, shaking her head right into his face.

"Nah-ah, I'm not emotional. Everyone reacts like this when they see her. You can't help it," the more she explained, the more the guys shook their heads, amusement plastered on their faces.

"But you're also emotional," Mingyu tried one more time.

"I'm not!"

"Careful, she's in a snappy mood today," Wonwoo quickly remarked, moving towards the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water.

"No, I'm not," she fought back, giggling at his sudden mention.

With raised eyebrows, the oldest turned back around, looking her straight in the eye, "You gave me a lecture about my bad posture today."

"Because you- Mingyu, do you wanna tell him how bad his posture is."

"Hyung...," slightly confused, yet on board with her reasoning, he turned to the '96 Liner, "you're posture really isn't that good."

"It's terrible!" She corrected his statement, getting a pinch to her thigh in return, making her slap Wonwoo's hand away. "Hey!" For a second, she stayed quiet before pointing her finger back at the younger rapper. "And now you're trying to gaslight me into thinking I'm over-emotional for crying at a Taylor Swift."

Mingyu shook his head with a chuckle, wrapping his hand around her finger, "I never said that. You're putting words in my mouth," coming back around to stop in front of her.

"Maybe," she shrugged smugly, smiling at the scene. Even if it had just been a week without all three of them being together, everyone was counting down the minutes when they'd be back together again.

"But you had fun, right?" He asked, placing her hand on his shoulder before he let his palm grace over her leg.

Minnie nodded. "A lot," smiling at him as he leaned in for another kiss. "But I'm also glad that you guys weren't there because... I don't even know what kind of person I turned into."

"Oh, I saw the videos on Twitter," he told her.

"What?" The female member glanced at him with wide eyes.

Wonwoo's chuckle from her right made her turn her head, "It was all over Weverse too."

"Why didn't you say anything?" She wondered in disbelief, but the older member just shrugged,

"I thought you knew."

A pout made its way onto her lips, making the guys laugh.

"That's so embarrassing!" Hiding her head in Mingyu's neck.

"No, it's not," He assured her, patting her thighs comfortably, "You had fun, that's what's important."

"I guess," Minnie mumbled.

She leaned back straight again before jumping down from the counter as the '97 Liner made his way back into the living room where he had left his suitcase standing. He still had to unpack it. Her hands glided over the marble stone before she went after him, Wonwoo following right behind her.

"Try it out!" She pointed at the chair, making the '96 Liner look at her in surprise, his lips still around the opening of the bottle.

He shook his head, "I don't want to right now."

"No, you do." The girl ignored his answer, dragging him after her with her hands on his arm.

"Minnie-"

"Just sit down," she stopped right in front of it, not taking her eyes off of him as he slowly lowered himself down. With a proud grin, she glanced at him. "Put your feet up." Not wanting to start another discussion, Wonwoo did as she asked, shuffling around the patted seat a little bit.

"Feels... weird."

The female member shook her head in amusement, "It feels weird because you're finally sitting up straight."

Her comment got a grin from the rapper in return as he bit down on his lips, holding back a snarky remark. Within a blink of an eye, his free arm shot forward, getting a hold of her hand and pulling her in swiftly. Minnie gasped with a giggle as she let herself fall onto his lap. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder.

"Better?"

Wonwoo nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, acting out a dramatic relief. "Much better," he sighed out loud before the sound of her laughter made him open his eyes again. And just as she tried to get off of him, she was pulled back in, getting another giggle out of her. Apparently, she wasn't gonna get out of that chair any time soon.

Taglist: @waosobii @chaebb @lunarxsun @hoe4wonwoo @kimhyejin3108 @soobzao @billboard-singer @cosmicwintr @zwiehe @alixnsuperstxr @angie-x3 @smooore @allthings-fandoms @lllucere

#minnie 🌷#seventeen #seventeen oc #seventeen 14th member #mimiwon #kpop oc #minwon

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cringe-but-proud · 5 months

Note

Ok you may get annoyed with me because I will continue to ask for fics about reg BECAUSE YOU WRITE HIM SO WELL LIKE AHHHHH anyway if you want me to stop please tell me :)

Anyway back to the point so I was wondering if you could do a fic where reader and reg are dating and there in the common room maybe reading together or in the dorms just cuddling or anything you can think of and like Barty and Evan come into the room and they just see reg being all soft and stuff and maybe tease him about it, it’s up to you how you want to finish it :)

Regulus black, white boy of the millennium.

Regulus black x gn!Reader

A/n: HE ☹️☹️☹️ My requests are open 😼

It had been a long day.

Regulus had gone to quidditch practice in the morning, and then had taken 3 tests during the school day. It all left him feeling burnt out and tired.

He entered the common room, fighting the urge to throw his bag to the side and flop down on to the nearest sofa. And then he saw you.

That was all it took to have him relax. He walked over to the small couch that you were sitting on in the corner of the common room.

Once he was in front of you, he wordlessly put down his bag and sat next to you, resting his head on your shoulder with a sigh.

"Hey, Regs." You said with a chuckle. "Rough day?"

"Mhm."

"Anything serious?" You asked.

"Not really."

"Well, I'm still sorry you had a rough day." You said as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. You felt him relax against you and sigh contently.

"S'okay." He mumbled as he closed his eyes. He could definitely fall asleep like this.

About an hour passed, in which you and regulus continued to cuddle.

You were playing with his hair while talking about a movie you'd watched recently, and Regulus' eyes were closed as he silently listened to your voice.

His blissful moment was interrupted by two far more annoying voices.

"Someone's looking comfortable."

Regulus opened his eyes, even though he already knew who was in front of him.

Barty and Evan stood in front of him, obviously holding back laughter.

Regulus groaned and buried his face into your neck. "Piss off." He mumbled.

"Yeah, it's a bit hard to take you seriously when you're all snuggled up, mate." Evan chuckled.

Regulus felt his face burn with embarrassment. Of course, he wasn't embarrassed to be with you. He just wasn't used to other people seeing this side of him.

"Do you idiots need something?" You asked with a playful roll of your eyes.

"Yes, actually." Barty said. "Your boyfriend promised to help us two idiots study for our transfiguration test tomorrow."

Regulus sighed in frustration. He'd promised to do that yesterday. Before he knew this day would be exhausting. "I-"

"You promised." Evan said before Regulus could ditch the two.

Regulus groaned. "Okay, fine." He begrudgingly gave in. "You two go to the library, I'll catch up."

"Will you?" Barty asked with narrowed eyes.

"Yes! Just give me a minute, Gods."

Barty and Evan snickered, giving quick goodbyes before walking away. Regulus could hear them loudly laughing as they exited the common room.

"They're assholes." He mumbled to you.

You chuckled. "Yeah. But, it's affectionate." You said, rubbing his back softly.

"I should ditch them."

"Very tempting. But, no."

Regulus sighed. He knew you were right, but he wasn't happy about it. He sat up and stretched his arms above his head before turning to you. "Give me a kiss before I go?"

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

He smiled softly and got up, grabbing his bag. "We'll hang out after dinner?" He suggested.

"Definitely." You replied.

Regulus finally made it to the library and sat at the table where Barty and Regulus were waiting for him.

"Took you long enough, lover boy." Barty chuckled.

"Shut up. You should be glad I didn't bail on you two." Regulus said as he pulled a few textbooks from his bag. "Now can we stop wasting time and get this over with?"

Barty rolled his eyes. "Fine."

...

"So, are we invited to the wedding?"

"Shut up!"

#x reader #fanfiction #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #regulus black fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction

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machetegirl109 · 11 months

Text

Synopsis: During a hot day at the beach with your friends, the sexual tension between you and Ellie leads the both of you to the passenger seat of her truck; again. *inspiration: tudo aconteceu by mc du black*

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, F/F, modern!AU, suggestive and offensive language, weed&alcohol, smut, dry humping, very good vibes, loser!ellie x reader

important info about my stories here

©machetegirl109 (credits to tudo aconteceu by mc du black that inspired me to write this) DO NOT copy/steal my work OR post it on any platforms

Word Count: 2.2k+

Oneshot: It All Happened

❝︎i fell in love

now i miss you endlessly❞︎

It was a hot day. The sun shined bright and no dark clouds were visible in the sky; it was the perfect day to go to the beach, and oh, Ellie was dying to. As soon as Dina texted her, demanding that she’d meet her, Jesse and you at the beach, excitement formed at the pit of her stomach as she hurriedly changed from her sleepwear to a black triangle two-piece set, anticipating seeing you again. She wondered what swimsuit you would wear this time, if it was the colored one that flattered the tone of your skin, or that Brazilian cut bikini that perfectly displayed your pretty ass.

Ellie put on a pair of light washed jean shorts, not bothering to put on a shirt and stepping into her simple havaianas. Grabbing a tote back and packing it with some necessities like a towel, water bottles and sunscreen, as well as a tin of Altoids that was filled with some pre-rolls. She gets into her truck and makes her way to the beach, quietly singing along to the song that plays on the radio. The memory of you on top of her, wearing nothing but a wet bikini bottom and a blunt between your fingers replayed inside her head – What I’d give to see her all high and fuck out on my lap again she thought and her blood felt like electricity as it flowed through her veins all the way down to her core.

After driving for about an hour, she finally arrives and parks her car in a more secluded area before the entry of the beach — The spot was hidden behind some palm trees that blocked surrounding vision, making it the perfect place to spend some alone time with you later. Ellie takes her things and heads to the beach, her eyes wander around until she spots Jesse sitting on his sunchair; head laid back, eyes closed towards the sunny sky and body spread on in as he holds a cold Heineken can. Upon hearing someone approach him, Jesse turns his face to his side, looking at Ellie who’s setting her tote bag onto the burning sand and taking a seat on the chair next to his.

“Ellieee, ‘sup, my friend!” He reaches his hand towards hers, exchanging a dap greeting. Ellie smiles and he continues. “There’s some drinks on the cooler right there,” Jesse points to a small light-blue icebox a few steps from them. “And some snacks on the bag beside it,” She nods looking at the black backpack. “Feel free to take whatever you want; Dina and Y/N are taking a swim.” Ellie turns her gaze to the wide blue ocean, watching as you and Dina laugh splashing the water around.

“Thanks. You getting in, too?”

“Yeah, just wanted to drink a bit and catch a tan first.” Ellie stands and walks towards the cooler, opening and getting a beer. Going to sit again, she opens it and takes a sip, the cold liquid refreshing her throat as she lays her back onto the beach chair. “What about you, gonna take a dip with Y/N?” She chuckles and turns her face away from him.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,”

“Haa, I’m not so sure about that. You think we don’t know what y’all were up to in your car when we came to the beach last week?”

“We just… Talked. And- and we hotboxed.” She trips over her words, shy over the little escapade you two had.

“Whenever two people who have insane sexual tension are together, in a closed space, they do a lot more than just talking.” Jesse proclaims as if it was a matter of fact and Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Whatever… You’re so annoying.”

“I know,” He says proudly as he places his drink on the sand and stands up. “I’m gonna go play mermaids’ with Dina now, wanna come?”

“Not now, go ahead.” Ellie watches as Jesse lets out an alright and he begins to walk towards the crystalline water, swimming towards you and Dina who smiles as he approaches. Soon the three of you engage in a conversation following up by Jesse making an exaggerated mermaid act, causing you and Dina to swim a little further from him.

“Can you two please stop being boring bitches and have fun?” He pleads, upset over the fact you nor his girlfriend wanted to act like kids in public.

“Yeah, no. I’m not gonna swim around and act stupid like you.”

“You’re just mad I have childlike wonder, Y/N.” He goes closer to Dina and wraps his arms around her. “Will you play with me, Dina? You can be Ariel and I’ll be Prince Eric.”

“We can reenact that scene where he drowns but instead of saving you I just swim away.” Dina suggests and he lets an annoyed huff out.

“Wow, I thought you loved me.”

“God, Jesse, when did you get so dramatic?” She hugs him back and he kisses her cheek. “I’ll play with you.”

“Y/N?” Jesse looks at you with puppy eyes and you hum. “Will you play with your dear friends?”

“No, but thanks for asking.” He kisses his teeth and throws the salty water in your direction. “Jesse!”

“You should go be boring with Ellie,” He says, pulling Dina closer to where the ocean got deeper. “She's by our stuff.” A smile appears on your face as Jesse lets you know she’s already here, you begin to swim back hurriedly, excited to see Ellie again. “They’re down bad for each other, huh?” Dina nods in agreement, the two of them watching you running towards the spot you all settled in when you arrived at the beach earlier this morning.

When Ellie sees you walking towards her, her green eyes sparkle with desire as she looks down at your body, almost exposed under the tiny bikini you’re wearing. You two exchange smiles with hidden intentions on it. When you finally stop in front of her chair, you lower yourself on her lap, pulling her into a hug; her body shivers as your cold wet body touches her hot one. Ellie takes in your scent, the mixture of sand and salty water into her nose as she presses her face onto the crook of your neck, making you only hug her even tighter.

“Hi Els,” You say softly as you pull back, looking at her face — Cheeks slightly red from the sun and her freckles more intense. “I wanted to see you so bad.” You confess shyly; not being able to take her off of your mind since the last encounter you two had.

“I wanted to see you, too.” Her hand comes up to your cheek, softly caressing it. “Did you not want to play mermaids with Jesse?” Ellie asks with humor in her voice and you chuckle.

“Yeah, I'd rather be around you,” Her smile widens and her hand falls to your naked thigh and your heartbeat falters. “Why didn’t you get in?” Ellie raises her other hand that holds her beer and gives it a little shake.

“I was just finishing up, and–” Ellie fingers trace up and down your soft skin, she looks down at your chest, covered by a small burgundy triangle top, and then backs up your eyes as she clears her throat. “To be honest, I was hoping you'd come here. I brought you something.” She leans forward on her beach chair with you still seated across both her legs, and places her can onto the sand, grabbing her tote bag. You observe her attentively as she removes a scratched metal tin and places it into your hands. Opening it, you see four perfectly wrapped blunts.

“Really? They're for me?” You give her a toothy smile, making her heart melt.

“Uhm. Just for you.” You close the tin and press a kiss onto Ellie's freckled cheek, who instantly holds your hips closer. You lean into her, moving your lips to her ear; giving a soft bite on her lobe. You can feel her body slightly shake under you – A naughty smile creeps up your face and you place one to the back of her neck, gripping it harshly as you pull her impossibly closer to you.

“You should take me to your car.” Your warm breath hits down her ear as you whisper and an almost inaudible moan escapes her lips. Ellie stands causing you to be back on your feet again and she quickly holds your empty hand, pulling you towards the beach entry with her. You try to keep up with her pace as you follow behind, and soon enough you two reach her old truck that hides behind the palm trees. Not being able to wait anymore, she presses you against the door and smacks a kiss onto your lips. Her soft lips carry a slight taste of the beer she was previously drinking.

You place your arms around her shoulders and Ellie clutches your hip with one hand as the other one moves down your thigh, grabbing it and bringing it up making you close your leg around her waist. She bites your bottom lip and pulls it forward with her teeth, her head going back as you reach her face to kiss her again. Before you're able to press them together again, she lets go of it and drops your leg back on the ground: giving your ass a slap as she pulls you away from the door.

Ellie opens the passenger seat door and enters; getting comfortable onto the seat as she pats both her hands over her thighs that are uncovered on her small low waist jean shorts.

“C’mere, pretty.” With no need to tell you twice, you get in, setting yourself on top of her with each of your legs divided on her sides; you throw the small metal tin on the driver’s seat. You press a small kiss on her lips before they make their way down her neck – One of her hands meets your ass again; she squeezes it roughly, earning a moan from you, and the other closer to the door reaches for the handle, shutting it close. “You look for fucking hot wearing that,” You move your lips back to hers and soon you two start a heavy and messy make out session.

Sinking your teeth into the plumpiness of her bottom lip, she opens her mouth allowing your tongue to move in and hers, too, explores the inside of your mouth. You grip her short locks tightly and she groans inside the kiss; both her hands holding onto each side of your asscheeks, rocking you back and forth above her crotch.

As the moans of you two start to get louder and louder each time your hips hit towards hers, you break the kiss; planning your hands on the sides of the headstand as Ellie tries to open her legs as much as she can in order to feel your clothed cunt rub against hers. She stares deep in your eyes, holding onto you as if you were about to run away, Ellie starts to move you against her even faster and rougher.

“Shit–” Her chest raises up and down fastly, her lungs losing air as she sees you untying your top and discarding it beside the joint-filled altoids. She feels herself getting even wetter at the vision of your perky nipples; lowering her mouth on your boobs, she alternates between the two as she sucks and licks, bites and kisses. Adrenaline and lust run through your veins as you feel her warm muscle on your sensitive nipples.

“Els– ahh,” Pornography moans leave your mouth, you two reaching closer and closer to that final snap inside the pit of your stomachs. “Don't stop, don't stop, pleasepleaseplease,” Upon hearing your cries, Ellie moans along with you as she deliciously rubs your cunt more violently against her own. Her eyes roll back as she feels your hand move from her naked stomach to her covered chest, sliding it under her top and flicking her nipple.

“Baby, baby– I'm gonna cum,” Ellie announces as her mouth lets go of your tits with a wet plop. You nod your head, letting her know you will, too. “Kiss me,” Tending to her wish, you put your lips on hers, kissing it one last time before you two reach your releases’. As Ellie feels the creamy liquid drip inside her bikini bottoms, her guidance on your hips falter, making you slow down, too, riding out your high. “Holy fuck.”

You let yourself fall into her as tiredness hits you. Ellie moves her hands to your back, giving you a bear hug. As the two of you take your time to catch your breath, she presses kind and loving kisses over your face, making you giggle with adoration.

“You want to smoke a little?” Ellie asks, a hint of desperation on her voice as she has finally met the opportunity to get you looking all pretty with your eyes red and horny on her lap, again. You nod your head, excitement making its way through your body.

“Yes, I do!”

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#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou smut #loser!ellie #it all happened ellie williams #©machetegirl109

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a-yellow-van · 20 days

Text

Wish You Were Here | Part 3

You and Joel get stuck in a blizzard during patrol. It leads to something unexpected.

Series masterlist

Pairing : Joel Miller x f!reader

Fanfic tags : canon compliant, slow burn, romance, some smut, angst, hurt/comfort, joel and the reader are terrible at feelings, female reader, no use of y/n, reader is in early 30s, past relationships, trauma/PTSD, grief, loss, post-apocalypse, jackson joel, joel is a good parent to ellie, protective joel, major character death, original characters, queer characters, bisexual main character, age difference, canon-typical violence

WC : 8.9 k

Warnings for part 3 : Minors DNI! swearing, drinking, mentions of trauma and PTSD, mild violence, explicit sexual content (masturbation, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough-ish sex, praise kink, pet names, limited aftercare), more hurt than comfort I'm sorry

Writing this one hurt a lil. But I'm happy with it. So please enjoy.

It’s been half an hour. Thirty minutes of riding side by side in complete silence, interrupted only by the sounds of Old Beardy and Willow’s hooves rhythmically crunching in the snow. It seems like an eternity. The tension is so intense it’s almost palpable. Your presence, a blur in Joel’s peripheral vision, is putting him on such an edge that, at any given moment now, he could turn around and gallop back to Jackson, or start saying things he’d better keep to himself, or get you off your horse and take you by the waist and…

No. Nope. Stop it.

His grip on the reins tightens and he bites his inner cheek until the stab of pain rips his mind off that absurd train of thought. He stares straight ahead at the deserted highway, the stretch of the 191 carved in a broad valley. The landscape is lost in a sea of white, the concrete below invisible, crashed cars resembling large animals sleeping in a snowy den. Joel’s face is numb from the cold, rugged skin humid, a few wild strands of hair on his forehead pearling with ice. The brim of his insulated cap isn’t enough to shield his eyes from the stinging wind, but still, he stares, almost unblinking. His neck itches with the urge to turn and glance at you; he has been actively fighting it ever since leaving. He has to remain collected, he has to concentrate on the job. That sentence is playing on loop in his head like a mantra, so much so that the words are getting jumbled, barely making sense anymore.

He doesn’t understand why it’s been so difficult to just move on from what happened. Not one day during those two weeks has passed without his thoughts drifting back to that brief intimacy he shared with you, without wondering what you’re doing, how you’re doing. And he loathes it. Hates being confused, hates not having control, hates that you’re having such an effect on him. So, before he drives himself crazy, he decides to start counting the cars until the both of you reach the first checkpoint on the Hoback route. Joel has calculated about five miles since Jackson, only around three to go until the job gets more active. There are two cars on the right, their shapes stuck together in a permanent collision, and one on the left. Joel can make it.

Small, repetitive rituals like this always helped him focus; back when he was working construction, a lifetime ago, he’d recite stupid ad jingles to himself, trying to remember as many as he could and associate them with the correct brand. There was a famous one that Sarah used to sing just to annoy him, delighted when it worked without fail every time. He’d be reading the newspaper in the morning, or watching a game, or driving her to school, and she’d pipe up out of nowhere. And then it’d be stuck in Joel’s head for days. Some annoying rap about credit reports. How did it go again? F-R-E-E, that spells free…something something dot com, baby. Sarah’s mischievous giggles, after he begged her to stop, echo around his mind. Less than a year back, it would have sent him down to a dark, sunken place with slippery walls nearly impossible to climb out of. Not anymore, after Ellie. The memory’s still stained with grief, but it doesn’t feel so crushing to carry. He’s accepted it as part of him. Joel tries to recall the rest of the lyrics to that damned song; he thinks Ellie might get a kick out of it. She’s always so eager to learn about even the most meaningless things that existed before the outbreak.

It does the trick to distract him from you. It works so well, in fact, that he nearly misses the turn to the checkpoint. He pulls on Old Beardy’s reins suddenly, steering him in the right direction. The horse neighs in protest.

So much for concentrating.

You’ve certainly noticed the mishap, but you don’t comment on it, much to his relief.

Get a fucking grip.

Joel begins down the side path to an abandoned gas station, the tension rising. Maybe, if one of you were to point out the obvious, it would make this whole situation a bit less miserable. But Joel isn’t going to be the one to do it. It would come out all wrong, anyway.

The place is small, a few pumps decaying under a canopy that’s barely holding on to four crumbling steel rods. The convenience store isn’t in better shape, its windows shattered, the signboard crashed by the entry. You take initiative and move towards the back of the building; Joel takes it as a cue for him to check out the front. The advantage of being an experienced patroller is that you can do your job without much communication; at least there’s that. He jumps off Old Beardy and walks up to the building, unworried but readying his weapon nonetheless. If there were infected around, he’d have spotted them already. Just as he thought, the interior is empty, what’s left of it is covered in a thin film of dirty snow. Just for good measure, he checks the storage and the restrooms in the back. Still nothing. He jogs back to his horse just as you turn a corner, you and Willow coming back into view, calm, unperturbed.

You don’t wait for him to leave. He scrambles to mount Old Beardy, and you’re already back on the highway. It sustains Joel’s growing irritation; he almost yells out for you to slow down. Sure, ignoring each other is one thing, but being unsafe and disrespecting patrol rules is another. So, as a punishment, Joel spurs Old Beardy into a run and catches up before overtaking you, almost knocking you off Willow. He hears you gasp out in surprise. You try to swerve to the right, but he blocks the move. He wants to make you crack. Because he can’t be the one to do so first. You try the same move, to the left this time, and again, Joel is faster. He takes things a step further and lets out a dry, arrogant scoff.

That’s it. You’re about to rip into him. But only the whistling of the wind responds; you keep stubbornly quiet. You don’t even give the man a glance when he finally lets you pass and get back on his side, your expression set in stone.

Damn it. You’re good.

Joel doesn’t attempt anything else, deciding it’s wasted energy. You both continue on the road, status quo, for another hour. You stop at a few other checkpoints around the highway : an old RV park, a fire station…Warm, sheltered places that would draw in people, or things, at this time of year. But there’s no sign of life anywhere. By this point, Joel would usually have had to take out at least a stray runner. It’s almost unsettling. Like the calm before a storm. That little seed of concern plants itself inside his mind, heightening his senses. You must feel it too, because you guide your horse closer to his, and he notices your right hand leaving the reins to rest on the rifle hanging from your shoulder.

Sombre clouds are accumulating in the sky, hanging low, menacing. The wind increases as you both reach the highway exit to the small village of Hoback, carrying sharp snowflakes that cut Joel’s exposed cheeks. The path is narrow, flanked by tall conifers that grow denser, their branches drooping down from the weight of the snow. You’re forced to get behind the man, your gaze on his back piercing, nervous, uncomfortable. The both of you still don’t talk, but the atmosphere has shifted, the unspoken conflict momentarily forgotten.

Joel moves forward cautiously on trot, alert, scanning his surroundings. The first cluster of residences comes into view, simple log cabins settled at the foot of a hill a couple yards away. From the distance, nothing looks out of place. He signals for you to follow him, and you patrol up and down the short street, hastily inspecting the houses on both sides. They’re frozen in a dead silence, immobile, ravaged by years of negligence and harsh elements. Instead of being reassuring, the absence of movement only causes Joel’s foreboding feeling to develop. Something is very off here. The both of you repeat the process through the village, falling into calculated, practised gestures. And, while patrollers have the habit of checking some key places for supplies to bring back to Jackson, this time, your pair instinctively works as fast as possible, not entering a single house. There’s an unwritten agreement to get the hell out of here as soon as you can.

You’ve cleared out most of the village and, at last, you reach Snake River, the sounds of its turbulent waters mixed with the wind is tumultuous. There’s a bridge ahead, just large enough for a car. Its wooden structure is unstable, some slats have fallen, the rest are icy and split in places. This next part has to be done on foot; the horses would collapse through the bridge and drown if they even took one step on it. Once you cross the river, you’ll need to walk a couple miles to the outskirts of the village, finishing off the route at an old golf course. The clubhouse is a great lookout to the area; it holds the patrol logbook. Joel halts Old Beardy before the river, and you stop next to him. The animal shakes his head, freeing his mane from the layer of snow. Joel hesitates, not quite ready to leave the protection and speed horseback offers. He’s debating if an acute gut feeling is reason enough to turn back and leave patrol unfinished.

That short moment of doubt is precious. Because a second later, nature seems to fall completely silent around you. As though a predator is roaming nearby. Sudden, horrible snarls erupt from the woods stretching to your right. The ground trembles beneath fast, uneven footsteps. A lot of them. Too many. Time stops as Joel looks in your eyes for the first time in hours. They’re full of fear.

And then a runner stumbles onto the trail about three hundred feet behind, twitching, its mangled head snapping in your direction. Followed by another. And another. It jolts the man right into action.

“COME ON!” He urges you, spurring Old Beardy to a gallop.

There’s no way to go, but forward. Joel barrels around the bridge and down the slope, reaching the riverbank. You don’t leave his side, thighs clenched around Willow’s flanks, arms straining with the reins. And as your horses hooves hit the ice, the horde has crossed the distance, pouring down the embankment. There’s at least twenty. Some of them fall into the water, the current seizing them immediately. But it’s not enough to stop them. Joel’s heart is hammering out of his chest, his body rocking with the movement as Old Beardy pushes on, fueled by the danger. Joel lets go of the reins, expert fingers grasping his rifle. He swiftly points it at the first runner that lunges at his left, and lodges a bullet in its brain. The next one steps on the corpse, ready to attack. It meets the same fate. The gunshots coming from your side clearly indicate that you’re handling yourself. Before long, Joel has emptied the chamber, not one bullet wasted.

“RELOADING!” He shouts.

You cover him, taking out an infected, mere inches before his claws dig into Joel’s ankle. He doesn’t have time to thank you, however, pulling the trigger the second he readies the rifle again. You both maintain the rhythm up for what seems to be hours, the horses snorting through the effort, runners dropping like flies. Joel has lost all sensation; he doesn’t feel his lungs burning or his muscles pulling; the adrenaline has completely taken over. He keeps riding. Shooting. Reloading. And…Yes, there.

Only two of the fuckers left.

One on your side, one on his. He fires. Perfect shot. He thinks the two of you might make it out unscathed.

But then, something happens. Your weapon is pointed at your own runner, about to shoot. But you hesitate. Joel watches as the creature strikes. Willow panics. She rears up. And you are thrown to the ground.

——————————

That runner.

It looks so much like her.

Your body hits the riverbank, head bouncing on a rock, wind knocked out of you. A sharp pain erupts in your skull, high-pitched ringing explodes in your ears, stars appear in your vision. In a fraction of a second, the creature is straddling you. You weakly push an elbow against its chest, keeping its jaws from locking around your neck. It twitches, screams, clacks its teeth.

And you just…accept it. Twenty-one years of surviving, and this is how it ends.

You close your eyes.

And you’re back in the forest. That day. You’re running, faster than you’ve ever done in your life, branches grabbing at you, slicing your skin, like they want to prevent your escape. You glance over your shoulder. She’s gaining on you. Her eyes have turned a milky white, her clothes are ripped, her skin bloodied. But she still looks so much like herself. She still sounds like herself. Your baby sister. Her discorded weeps fill you with a gutting terror. You can almost make out the repeated word. Your name. Tears fall down wildly as you dart between trees, your breathing erratic, throat on fire.

“PLEASE! ANI! STOP!” you howl. But she’s gone. She can’t understand. So she chases, and you run.

Until your foot catches on a large root, sending you tumbling through the underbrush. Your gun clatters away from you. You lay there, stunned, dirt in your eyes, your nose, your mouth, ankle bent at the wrong angle.

She pins you to the ground, broken nails digging in the skin of your arms. You flail around, kick at her, trying to free yourself from her impossibly strong grip.

“STOP IT! ANI! STOP!” you cry out again, voice raspy, hollow, desperate.

Your right hand pats around blindly for the weapon, your left is pushed against her forehead, forcing her mouth away from your exposed shoulder. Your heart is beating so fast it seems like it’s stopped. Maybe it has. Maybe you’ve died, and this is just a flash of your last moments as you drift into peaceful, eternal rest. Or maybe it’s a horrible nightmare, and you’re about to wake up, a hand laced in your sister’s soft hair, light snores escaping her lips. She always looks so innocent when she sleeps, like all worries have washed off her, like she’s been sent back to a happy childhood in her dreams.

Your fingers brush against cold metal. You close them around the handle.

Bang.

The shot echoes, in the past and in the present.

You’re still alive.

The runner’s corpse slumps down against you, coating you with gore, a foul smell making you gag. You’re paralyzed, trembling, chest rising and falling erratically, gasping for air. You look up at the angry grey skies, the snow plummeting down, catching in your eyelashes. Everything stands still for an instant.

It all comes rushing back as the dead infected is ripped off your chest, discarded to the side like a rag doll. You sense a presence crouching down next to you, and Joel obscures your view.

He calls out your last name, loud, snapping you back to reality. You focus on his face; it’s flushed, expression tight with stress, eyes darting, searching for yours.

“Hey! Are you okay?” he yells.

Joel takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into a sitting position, the sudden movement making you dizzy. You stare back at him, eyes wide, blinking rapidly, unable to answer. Stunned.

“HEY! Did it bite you?” he continues, shaking you.

You move your head side to side in response, causing it to throb in pain. You wince, raising a hand to your occiput. Your glove comes back crimson. Joel’s eyes fall to the blood, and he mutters a curse. He reaches into his coat pocket to take out a rag, balling it up and pressing it to the back of your skull.

“Keep that there for me. Can you do that?” He speaks in a low, steady tone, but there’s an edge to it you pick up on. You nod and execute yourself. Willow comes over and nudges you with her nose; her way of apologising. You pat her with your free hand, reassuring. It was your fault.

Joel runs back to Old Beardy, the poor beast trembling from the fright. He takes something out of his pack’s front pocket and brings it back : a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He twists the cap off with his teeth and kneels behind you, taking the rag and pouring some of the liquid on it. He rubs it on your wound, eliciting a shriek.

Holy shit that hurts.

Joel inspects the injury, parting your hair to expose it, the rough fabric of his gloves like sandpaper on your scalp.

“Cut isn’t deep. But you’re gonna get a mean bump.” Joel explains, applying more pressure. He stops the bleeding, aided by the cold, and wraps the rag around your head, securing it with a tight knot. “We gotta keep moving. Can you stand up?”

This version of Joel, assertive, protective even, catches you off guard. It’s such a stark contrast from his attitude earlier in the day. It nearly makes you forget how close to death you just came.

“Uh, I-I think so-” you reply, regaining your voice, before attempting to push yourself off the ground and falling back down. Your head spins.

Joel offers you his hand, which you take to pull yourself up slowly, your whole body protesting. Bile rises up to your oesophagus. You lean over, breathing through your mouth.

“Shit. I think you have a concussion,” you hear Joel say, from far away.

And, then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the storm picks up. The snow gets so dense you can barely see five feet in front of you. The man takes the lead, urgently guiding you towards Old Beardy. He helps you mount, taking you by the waist, and you don’t even think to resist. There’s no way you can ride by yourself in this condition. Joel gets on and takes the reins while you hold on to him, chest pressed against his back. He whistles for Willow over the wind. She follows right behind.

Joel leads his horse out of the riverbank and into the surrounding woods, visibility getting even poorer. You’re blinded by snow, breathing it in, wheezing. You put all trust in Joel’s sense of orientation, praying that somehow, he gets you back onto the road. He presses forward, a hand raised in front of his face to protect it.

What a stupid fucking way to go out. Lost in a blizzard. With Joel Miller. At least the town would have something to talk about.

But then, miraculously, the trees begin to thin out; ahead, you can make out the faint outline of a trail.

He did it.

You squeeze Joel’s torso tighter, as if to thank him. Old Beardy perseveres, pushing one leg in front of the other. Your head is getting heavier, the concussion pulling you towards a dreamless sleep.

“Hold on. We’re almost there.” Joel affirms. You’re not sure who it’s destined for : himself, you, or the horses. Maybe all four. But it’s all you need to let go, and you pass out, head slumping on Joel’s shoulder.

——————————

You wake up to the sound of snow pelting against glass. Your skull feels like it’s being drilled into with a jackhammer. You pry your eyelids open and try to get your bearings, vision foggy, as though you opened your eyes in a chlorine pool. You find that you’ve been laid out on a frayed, deformed couch, springs digging into your back, a quilt smelling of mothballs thrown over you. Your winter attire has been taken off. You push yourself up on your elbows and look around the room. It seems to be the small living area of a cabin; there’s a rustic coffee table where both packs lay next to the bloody rag that acted as your bandage. To your left is a large, frosted-over bay window; the outside is an infinite, oppressing white. Two sets of jackets and ski pants hang from antler-shaped hooks next to the front door, a puddle forming underneath. A stone hearth takes up the wall in front of you, fire crackling inside. And, to your right, a plaid armchair. Joel is sitting in it, leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs, watching you intently with knitted brows. His expression is hard, severe, unfriendly; he’s back to his normal self. You hold his gaze, your sight slowly getting clearer.

“Uh. Hey,” you speak hoarsely, throat dry. It makes you cough, which prompts Joel to get up and rummage through your pack to retrieve your canteen. He tosses it to you carelessly, and you fail to catch it. It lands on your lap with a thump. Joel plops back into the armchair, huffing. He is very transparently upset with you.

Great.

You take a long gulp of water and wipe your mouth with the back of your sleeve, the day replaying in your mind like on a movie theatre screen, pausing on your near-death experience. And you’re baffled, ashamed of your own actions. You can’t believe Joel had to step in and save your sorry ass, like you’re some kind of damsel in distress.

Fucking rookie mistake. And now you have a goddamn concussion.

You massage your temples and suppress a groan. “How long was I out?” you ask instead.

“About an hour.” Joel answers, tone glacial, deprived of any sympathy.

“Did you try calling Jackson?” You nod over at the small radio sitting on the ground by the window.

“Couldn’t get a signal,” Joel answers, gruff, as if it’s an obvious fact.

You roll your eyes. You know he’s right, but still, you stand up despite sore muscles, and go over to the device, cranking it a few times before trying the channel knob. You’re met with static. Joel mumbles something under his breath; it doesn’t sound pleasant, or polite. You put the radio back down and return to the couch, avoiding eye contact with the older man.

You glance at your watch. It’s right after 3PM, and the blizzard hasn’t let up. You’re going to be stuck here a while. You rest your head on the arm of the sofa, staring at the beamed ceiling, lost in reflexion. About how genuinely worried Joel seemed when you got hurt, how he jumped right in to take care of you. It makes you seethe. He tucked you in so you’d stay warm. He even changed your socks; the wet pair is drying by the fireplace. How dare he? You shift on the cushions, stiff, ill at ease. And Joel chooses that moment to break the silence.

“What the hell was that back there?” He questions, his tone accusatory.

You tense up. The blame you’re putting on yourself is more than enough. He doesn’t need to twist the knife. You ignore him, your jaw clenching.

“Hey. I’m talkin’ to ya,” he nags.

It makes your blood boil, and you sit up to glare at him. “Won’t happen again,” you grumble.

“Yeah? You sure about that?” He continues, harsh.

You take a deep breath. “Look, I-”

He interrupts you. “You don’t freeze up like that. Ever. You understand me?”

“Oh, wow. I had no idea!” You strike back, not missing a beat. “I don’t need a lecture from you, Miller,” You spit out.

Joel lets out a chilling chuckle. “Oh, you’re welcome, by the way!” He barks, “You know. For keepin’ you alive an’ all.”

You spring to your feet, heat shooting to your head, exacerbating the migraine. “I didn’t ask for your fucking help,” you utter.

Joel gets up too, towering over you, hands balled up into fists. “Right. Next time I'll just let you get infected. That what you want?”

“I told you. There won’t be a next time!” You shout, holding yourself back from punching him in the gut, or kneeing him where it would hurt most, or pulling him down to the couch and pushing your lips to his neck and letting him-

No. Nope. Not again, not here, not now.

You desperately need some air. You move towards the front door, but Joel strides up to you and blocks the way, arms crossed.

“You ain’t going anywhere,” he warns.

“Let. Me. Out.” You command. Your head is so painful you think it might explode.

Joel chuckles again. “You got a death wish or somethin’? Settle down, girl.” He talks down to you as if you were a child, smug, condescending; but that word makes your heart skip a beat.

You try to make a pass for the handle, but he grabs your wrist and shoves it backwards effortlessly. You’re seeing red. So you opt for the next best thing; you spin around abruptly and storm off to the other side of the cabin, into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

“Oh yeah. You do that. Real mature.” Joel yells out.

You hear the creak of the floor under his steps and the rustling of fabric as he sits back down. You take your frustrations out on the shower curtain, displacing thousands of dust particles, before biting down on your hand to muffle a scream. When you’re done, you climb into the bathtub and curl up against the lime-scaled cold porcelain, forehead on your knees. The space is dark, stuffy, suffocating. You wonder how you’ll be able to make it through the storm without ripping Joel’s head off. Or doing something exactly opposed to it. How easily that man is able to just get to you is incomprehensible. Enraging. And, worst of all, despite how reluctant you are to admit it…

Arousing.

It must be the concussion dysregulating you completely. But the feeling grows, and you extend both legs to squeeze your thighs together, trying to release the pressure building between them. It’s no use. There’s only one thing that would satisfy it, and he’s right outside the door. Without your control, your right hand moves to the waistband of your jeans, undoes the button and goes down, past the elastic of your underwear…Fingers reach down to your entrance, already slick, and glide back up to the hardened nub, the touch sending a rush of pleasure through your body. You rub clumsy circles around, slow at first, mind filling with Joel, his calloused hand there instead of yours, stretching you out, whispering filthy things in your ear. You increase the speed, biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning, cheeks flushed, the pressure becoming almost unbearable. You push two fingers inside, curling them to stimulate that sensitive spot, bucking into your own palm to deepen the sensation. In a matter of seconds, you’re unravelling, free hand gripping the side of the tub, your walls clamping down on the other, come seeping in the fabric below. Your lips part and you can’t help a low squeal from escaping them. You immediately clap your left hand over your mouth, heart racing.

Fuck.

Did he hear?

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. The reality of what you just did comes crashing down. It only worked to heighten your desire. And your anger. You button your pants back up and step out of the bathtub, wiping your hand on a scratchy towel you find in the linen closet along with a colony of spiders.

You’ve been in here for too long. You have to go back out. It would raise suspicion if you didn’t.

——————————

Joel is oblivious, too busy sulking over the events of the day as he tends to the fire, flames illuminating his face in a flickering glow.

That was too fucking close.

The image of you, frozen up under the runner, keeps snaking its way into his thoughts. It infuriates him. How you just gave up, like your life was worthless, like you deserved what came to you. And yet, the sentiment is so familiar it makes his chest ache in a burst of empathy. He can sense the burden in you, the intense trauma you endured. Most people have, in this unforgiving world, but you…There’s something more. It was the look in your eyes when you saw that infected, as if it reminded you of something so vivid it stole you away for an instant. He knows because it’s happened to him. It still does, sometimes, although less frequently. They’re these moments of sheer panic, where he’s choking, the world blurring around him. He has to count things he can see, or touch, or hear…He feels so miserably weak after it’s passed, as if he’s just a small, scared old man. Maybe it reveals his true nature.

And he’s so angry at you for making him care. Because for some reason, he does. Ever since that night at the tavern. Maybe even before. How scared he got when he thought you might be done for is direct proof of it.

He can’t afford to have another person to protect.

A quiet cough brings him back to the present. He peers over his shoulder. You’re standing behind him, seemingly troubled by something; you fiddle with the hem of your sweater, gaze glued to the ground.

He turns back to the hearth, sighing, and forces out an irritated “You good?” The thing is, he actually is concerned with the answer.

“Fine.” You reply, your tone not an ounce more affable than his.

That is as far as the conversation goes. Joel eventually gets tired of rotating the same log with the fire poker, pretending the action is crucial to keep the flames alive. He goes back to the armchair, glancing at you. You’ve reclined on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, mindlessly chewing on a piece of dried meat. He decides to imitate you, because he needs something to do with his hands. So he digs in his bag for the sandwich he’d packed; it’s mushed, tasteless. You both eat in thick, loaded silence.

The sunlight is starting to decline, and the storm rages on, casting the room in an eerie shadow, the cold seeping in through every tiny crack in the cabin’s foundation. Joel shivers despite himself, shoving both hands under his armpits in an attempt to preserve his body heat.

A second later, you’re out of your seat. Joel watches as you climb up the spiral staircase that leads to the loft bedroom. You shuffle around the space, partially concealed by the railing, and come stomping back down, carrying a crumpled blanket. You hold it out to him at arm’s length. Joel cocks a brow; the sudden kind gesture leaves him completely confused. You jiggle the blanket under his nose, impatient. He decides to take it, and drapes it around his shoulders, the relief immediate.

“Uh. Thanks,” he mumbles.

You give a shrug in response, dismissive, wrapping yourself in the quilt and retreating to the sofa.

What the hell?

An hour ago, you were fiercely arguing with him. Now this. The flip-flopping is giving him whiplash.

Time passes, excruciatingly slow, nor Joel or you daring to say another word. The sun fully sets; the darkness outside is opaque, as if the little cabin is drowning alone in an abyss. There’s no way around it, you’ll both have to spend the night here. Around half past 5PM, Joel can’t stew in the tension anymore, so he goes to check on Old Beardy and Willow, confined to the veranda at the back of the house. They’re cramped, but otherwise fine. Joel risks a short trip to the yard to fill an old, warped bucket with snow for the horses to drink. As he shines the beam of his flashlight around, he notes that the blizzard has weakened slightly. This mess might be over in the morning. Just a few hours. He can last until then. It’s not like he has any other choice.

He feeds the animals with a pile of straw forgotten in a corner of the veranda, behind some gardening tools. At the start of the outbreak, he couldn’t help but imagine who inhabited the places he used as shelters, what their daily lives looked like, if they were still alive. Sometimes, he’d come across evidence of the contrary. It used to disturb him, he’d feel like an intruder, but he’d quickly grown desensitised. Cordyceps didn’t spare anyone. It made suffering the new normal. It’s useless to dwell on what was or wonder what could have been. So, he doesn’t pay more attention to the objects scattered around the space as Willow eats from his hand.

Once he comes back inside the cabin, he finds you exploring the kitchenette that’s crammed underneath the loft. You’ve opened the cupboards, revealing stacks of chipped, dusty dishes. You’re going through a drawer, a few utensils clinking inside. You haven’t noticed Joel, too focused on your search for something of value. He observes quietly as you move on to the second drawer, when he decides to make his presence known. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Don’t bother, I already checked while you were sleepin’.”

His words only make you search harder, meticulously inspecting the contents of the drawer, bent over, your back turned to him.

Goddamn it. You’re exasperating.

And yet, his eyes are drawn to a specific part of your anatomy, the curves made obvious by your position, your jeans hugging them so well he could just-

“Or do whatever the fuck you want,” he mutters, the hostility compensating for the sudden surge of lust.

He plants himself in the armchair, once again, the noises of your continued investigation grating, setting his nerves on fire. After a few minutes, they stop. And you come walking back to the living area with a subtle, conceited smirk on your lips, and a bottle of very nice, before-the-apocalypse whisky clutched in your right hand.

“Didn’t check well enough, Miller,” you say, failing to hide your satisfaction.

“Where was it?” He asks, upset at himself for missing the item.

“Back of the sink cabinet,” you answer smugly. “Quality stuff,” you add, reading the label. You’re absolutely right, but Joel isn’t going to recognise it.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky,” he grumbles. You don’t waste time and unseal the bottle before raising it to your mouth.

“Don’t think that’s smart,” Joel cautions, making you pause mid-air. “Y’know. Concussion,” he continues, his tone more unpleasant than he anticipated.

You don’t listen to his advice, staring at him tauntingly as you sip. He’s quickly learning that you thrive in defiance. And this audacity you possess, it’s…Attractive. Joel inexplicably likes that you’re provoking him. Your expression remains neutral as you swallow, even when Joel knows for a fact it must sting like hell. You offer the bottle to him.

It’s been a long time since he’s had liquor that didn’t have an aftertaste of battery acid, and the sight makes him crave a good drink. It’d certainly make the night pass by faster. He knows it’s a terrible idea, considering where getting drunk with you led him last time, but it’s so damn tempting…

He takes the whisky from you.

——————————

You’ve made a considerable dent in the liquor. It’s dulling the pain in your head, reducing it to a distant ache. You’re sitting cross-legged in front of the hearth, and Joel has joined you on the ground, close enough to pass the bottle back and forth without having to stand up. His back is resting on the bottom panel of the couch, legs spread out casually. The fire, as well as the whisky, is enveloping you in a calming warmth, eating away at your inhibitions; you’ve taken your sweater off as a result, stripped down to a tight thermal shirt. There’s silence again between you and Joel, but this time, it doesn’t make you want to claw out of your own skin. It’s strikingly comfortable. And you find yourself wanting the man to come closer, longing for contact, connection. You haven’t forgotten your little adventure in the bathroom; in fact, the liquor is feeding those feelings, and they’ve risen to a nearly overwhelming level.

You take another sip, and, during the exchange, Joel’s fingers graze yours, sending your heart in a frenzy and a burst of flustered heat to your face. You jerk your hand away.

Idiot.

You play it off by brushing it through your hair. Joel’s mouth twitches upwards before he drinks.

“What?” You ask, defensive.

“Nothin’.” Joel passes the bottle back to you with a faint air of amusement. You decide it’s a good time to stop, and you set it down on the floor.

“Done already? I was expecting more from ya,” he teases.

You hate how well it’s efficient in riling you up. “Like you said. Concussion,” you retort, pointing at the site of injury.

“Hm. So now it's a good enough excuse,” he presses on, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yup,” you answer simply.

“Really? That’s all you got?” His smirk is more assured now.

You give a drawn-out sigh in response, studying the fire like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Damn. I was startin’ to like the snark,” he says. It seems like the liquor has taken a toll on the man’s reservations, too.

“Don’t wanna waste my breath on you,” you reply, unable to resist the banter.

Joel chuckles. “Ah. There she is.”

You had forgotten how lovely Joel’s laugh is. How natural it feels to talk to him like this. Funny how booze seems to have that impact on the both of you. And, after a tortuous day of being at each other’s throats, you welcome the change of mood. “Did I just hear you say you like me?” You turn to gaze at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Nah. Must be your concussion.” He answers, deadpan, unfazed.

You can’t hold back a smile as you reply. “Hm. Sure, Miller.”

He pauses and appears to consider something, chewing on his bottom lip. “Uh. Joel,” he finally lets out, voice deeper, more serious. “Just- call me Joel.”

You’re taken aback by that sudden request.

His first name. It feels informal, intimate even, as though you’ve moved past the status of coworkers, into murky, foreign territory. You know you should refuse. You’ve dropped too many of your principles with this man already.

“Alright. Joel.” You gulp. “Uh, same goes for you.”

He gives a short nod, and mirrors your sentence, only with your name instead.

It’s significant. This moment. It feels like the two of you have reached a point of no return. Like from here on out, things can’t just go back to the way they were.

“Man, this isn’t how I was planning to spend the night,” you revert to humour to diffuse the returning tension.

“Yeah?” Joel follows your lead. “Got somethin’ you’d rather be doin’?”

“Pretty much anything else,” you quip. “I was gonna work on this painting I’m late on.” You’re not sure why you’re opening up about that aspect of your life, but it’s the direction the whisky has picked. It’s futile enough. Still safe.

“Oh. Right. Painting,” he says. “I knew you did that.”

He does?

“Didn’t you do one of Tommy and Maria?” He continues. “For their wedding?”

The man truly is full of surprises. And to think you were convinced he was completely indifferent to you, at least before today.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that was me,” you reply after a few seconds.

“It’s good work. You managed to make Tommy look half-decent. That’s talent right there,” he jokes.

“Yeah. Thanks. I tried.” You chuckle, and your stomach flutters at the compliment. You’d shoot those butterflies one by one with a tiny gun if you could. “What about you? What’d you have on the schedule?”

“Hm,” he answers, “not much either. Was gonna ask Ellie to join me for dinner. And get rejected again.”

“I don’t blame her,” you comment, a teasing grin forming. “What teenager wants to hang out with a grumpy old guy?”

“Hey. Rude.” Joel feigns offence. “I can be fun,” he adds.

“Won’t believe it until I see it,” you push further.

“Okay then. Just you wait.” He glances around the room for inspiration, until he is hit by a stroke of genius.

“Truth or dare?”

You snort. “Are you twelve?”

“Truth or dare?” Joel repeats, voice raising in pitch.

You shake your head in disbelief.

Joel fucking Miller.

“Fine. Truth,” you capitulate.

Joel smirks. “Okay. Uh,” he concentrates, “What’s your favourite colour?”

You take a second to process the words that just came out of his mouth. And then burst out laughing.

“Come on,” Joel protests, a grin brightening his eyes, deepening the wrinkles around them. “What’s wrong with that question?”

It makes you double down in laughter. You wheeze, trying to catch your breath, and Joel joins in with a few low chuckles. The stoic mask has vanished. Why does he look so sweet?

“That-that- was the best you could come up with?” you get out between deep inhales.

Joel doesn’t back down. “You gonna answer it or what?”

“Okay, okay. Uh-”

You realise you haven’t thought about that tiny aspect of yourself in about two decades. Cordyceps has had that strange effect of destroying souls, personalities, the little things that used to make one human. By infecting some, and coercing others into survival. You’re not sure which fate is worse.

“It’s yellow,” you finally reply. Yellow like the sunshine. That was your sister’s nickname. And you were Moonbeam. Opposites who completed each other. And now there’s only one left, lonely, broken.

Joel nods. “Fitting.”

“Hm?”

“Your tattoo.” He gestures at your exposed collarbone, where a sun made up of a multitude of ink dots is etched into your skin. Joel is scarily on point; that was for her, too.

“Yeah.” You don’t linger on the topic. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Joel replies instantly.

You’re not prepared. “Uh- I dare you to-” Your mind is sluggish, moving in slow-motion as you try to come up with something. “I dare you to sit next to me.” It comes out without your control.

Shit.

“Easy,” Joel brags. He pushes himself off the ground with a grunt and takes five steps before settling back down so close that your legs are touching. He doesn’t acknowledge it, eyes on the fire ahead, and neither do you. But it sends a chill up your spine and your thoughts to a dangerous place. You determine you’ve taken a long enough break from the whisky and take a swig of the liquid courage. Joel does too.

“Your turn,” he reminds you.

“Truth.” You still have enough wits left to be worried of what he’d make you do as a dare.

“Takin’ the coward’s way out?” He teases.

You drink again, ignoring the remark.

“Alright. Uh, tell me about- your first time,” he says, glancing over at you with a sly smile.

That’s a huge jump from the innocence of his first question. You shoot him an unimpressed look. “You’re gonna have to be more precise.”

“You know exactly what I mean. Now start talkin’,” he playfully orders.

You sigh. “I was seventeen. With a friend I had in the QZ. Nothing special to it.” Your teenage years aren’t a period you like to reminisce about; you had to grow up much too fast.

Joel stays quiet for a moment, and bumps your knee with his, in a movement that could be passed as accidental, or as an attempt at comfort. You’re not certain which is the truth. “D’you love him?” He asks, his tone genuine, devoid of mockery.

“Her,” you correct. “And…I don’t know. It was years ago. Doesn’t matter.” It’s a lie. You remember it like it was yesterday. And you did.

Joel’s expression is one of surprise, and embarrassment. He turns a shade of red deeper than he was the second before, the temperature having nothing to do with it. “Oh. Uh. I- Sorry, uh, didn’t mean to assume- That’s- Good for you- I-”

You’re very entertained by his reaction. People usually fall into one of two categories when you tell them; awkward ally or plain bigot. You’re glad it’s the first one. You cut him off before he digs the hole deeper. “It’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up. Your turn.”

He seems rather grateful for the change of subject. “Uh. Right. Truth,” he replies, regaining his composure.

You give him a taste of his own medicine. “Same question.”

Joel is unbothered, and tells the story nonchalantly. “Okay. It was my date at senior prom. Back of my car in the school parking lot.”

It makes you laugh. “Wow. How very original. I gotta know what kinda car it was.”

“My dad’s busted old Wrangler. I put that car through a lot of shit.” he replies, chuckling.

“I could have guessed that.”

For a second, you and Joel look at each other, smiling. He almost appears timid. And for a second, the horrors of the world retreat into the shadows that birthed them. For a second, everything is alright. You could stay here forever.

——————————

Joel could, too. He wishes time could stop here. Because he’s confident that the night will inevitably end in something he’ll regret. No way around it. It’s taking an enormous effort already to keep himself from reaching over and closing the distance between your lips and his. The booze isn’t helping. You’re not either, with that radiant smile that’s melting his hard shell little by little, and your eyes that keep wandering around his face, his chest, and lower too, though you try to be discreet. He’s doing the same, and he’s certain you’re aware of it. Now, it’s a matter of who will succumb to the temptation first.

You speak up again. “One last thing, Joel. Did you get the girl?” The question is lighthearted, but the memories it brings back certainly aren’t.

He sighs. “Yeah. I did.” Sarah’s mother. They’d been high school sweethearts. Young. Dumb. A tale as old as time. “Got married. Had a kid. The whole nine yards. Then she wasn’t ready to be a parent. And, well-” He trails off, the words slipping out, motivated by the liquor. He’d never have confessed such a thing in a different context. Especially not to you. And just like that, he’s ruined the mood.

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock, before your expression softens, as you realise what must have happened to said child. Pity? Compassion? Joel can’t be sure. “Oh. Uhm. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know-”

“‘S’okay. It’s, uh, it’s been a while. And I got Ellie now,” he reassures, slurring the words slightly.

“What-what was their name?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Sarah,” he answers after a pause. He’s only recently started being able to talk about her out loud without breaking down. He doesn’t know if that still applies when he’s inebriated. And he’s not willing to test it out. He drowns the sentiment in more whisky, before giving you the bottle.

“Uhm. That’s pretty.” You take a swig and hesitate. “I, uh, I- know what it’s like. To- to lose someone like that,” you say, softly. The pain the words cause you as they escape is evident. Joel believes you.

And then something happens. Your right hand leaves your lap, moves to the side and comes to rest on his.

His gaze travels from your hand, up to your face. It’s full of doubt, eyes wide, as though you’ve just made a horrible mistake.

It’s all it takes for the floodgates to open.

——————————

Joel grabs your forearm and pulls you into his lap. His mouth collapses on yours. You don’t protest, accepting the kiss immediately, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself, knees on both sides of his thighs.

A rugged hand goes to the small of your back, pressing your chest to his, while the other slides up to the back of your head, carefully tilting it to deepen the kiss. Tongues collide, hungry, eager. He sucks on yours, stifling a moan.

You’ve been pent up so long you’re soaking already. He breaks away from the kiss to trail his lips across your jaw, before going down your neck, biting and swirling his tongue on your pulse point, not mindful of the mark he’s undoubtedly going to leave. He earns a gasp, your fingers interlocking with his hair, holding him in place. You grind against his growing bulge to try and alleviate the fervent pressure rising at your core. He thrusts his hips up to meet yours, the friction sending sparks of electricity to your hazy mind. A hand wanders to your breast, fingers groping the soft flesh, flicking the nipple raised through your shirt. But you need more. Need him inside of you. Now.

And you tell him so, voice quivering with desire. “Please,” you add in a whimper.

It isn’t long before your clothes are ripped off, his lips refusing to break apart from yours for more than a few seconds. He lays you down right there on the floor, bare, trembling, aching for his touch. He sits back on his heels and admires you for a moment, eyes darkened, intense, reflecting the flames as if they are blazing behind his pupils. You watch, mesmerised, as he undresses in the dim, dancing light of the fire, casting him in an aura that’s almost ominous. He stands up to take off his underwear, cock springing free and hitting his lower stomach.

The sight makes your mouth water. God, he’s big.

He climbs on top of you, your legs encircling his torso, granting him access to your entrance. And he pushes into you. Hard. You’re so wet his cock slides in without resistance, filling you completely, nearly hitting your cervix, the jab of pain delicious. The act isn’t kind, or tender; and it’s exactly what you want. For him to use you, to ruin you. And he does. He fucks you senseless, each stroke bringing you closer to oblivion, to forgetting who you are. The sounds he’s letting out are outright sinful, grunts laced with dirty sentences that could make you finish on the spot. But you’re holding on. Until he lifts you up by the waist, angling himself to hit that bundle of nerves over and over again, making you cry out in ecstasy, clawing at his back. You’re almost there, your walls pulsate around him, driving him deeper inside.

“Think you should come for me, darlin’,” he hums into your ear, nibbling on the lobe.

You obey.

The orgasm ripples with such force it blinds you. You can’t even scream. You’re gone. Not a person anymore, but a being of pure pleasure. Joel coaxes you through it with a few more thrusts, erratic, uneven, as he reaches his own release. He pulls out of you at the last second, painting your belly with spurts of the thick, warm substance. Your entire body spasms before going limp.

All the fight has been drained out of you. You’re reduced to a panting, throbbing mess on the floor, arousal pooling out of you, coating your inner thighs.

“Did so good for me,” Joel praises, hands cupping your face, left thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. “So fuckin’ good,” he repeats.

You stay still, eyes closed, brain shutting down your functions one by one. As you’re about to drift off, you feel strong arms carrying you to the loft, carefully placing you on the bed, cleaning you off with a soft cloth. He climbs in and embraces you, limbs tangled with yours, and you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck. His fingers gently brush the hair from your face to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Sleep tight, darlin’,” he whispers.

It’s so vulnerable it makes your heart ache.

Because you know this’ll all be gone tomorrow, along with the alcohol evaporating from your system.

——————————

You’re right.

The sky is clear by the next morning, harsh sunlight brutally waking you. You’re alone in the bed, shivering, sore, his scent all over your skin. You get dressed, head pounding, filled with excruciating remorse.

Joel is waiting for you by the front door. Glacial. Austere. Haunting. The person that you went to bed with a few hours ago has been torn to shreds. As though he never even existed. Maybe he was a product of your imagination.

And, once you’re outside, standing side by side on the horses, ready for the return trip, Joel utters a sentence that reverberates in your head all the way to Jackson, its echo deafening as you ride in silence.

“What we did. It meant nothing. Understand?”

You keep the tears in until you’re back home.

To read on AO3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #tlou part 2 #send help #fic: wish you were here

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lehguru · 5 months

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FIRST DATE + KAIJU NO.8 MEN

where they would take you on a first date ft. hibino, ichikawa, narumi, hoshina & isao shinomiya

info: finally writing for one of my favest dilfs hehehe ily isao i can b ur new wife pls one chance; not proofread as always + requests are open!!

kafka hibino is a simple man. he would enjoy a simple cafe or restaurant date, but during the day. hibino wants to have lunch with you, talking and getting a break from your day—it would be extremely relaxing for him. if you two still have time to spare even after finishing, he would take you to a walk, trying his best to subtly show you he wants to hold your hand. in the end, it doesn't matter if you two kiss or not; just spending time with you was enough for him.

reno ichikawa is extremely nervous about going out with you for the first time. he planned it all, asked you out and made sure everything was perfect, but he still got a annoying feeling on his stomach and a buzz on his ears. when you arrived at the museum he suggested, thirty minutes early, he was already there, holding a flower bouquet of your favorite color—if you asked, he would say he had just arrived too, but he would be there two hours earlier. the date ended up being perfect, everything from the museum itself to the way he treated you would be magical.

it doesn't come as a surprise, but gen narumi would drag you to an arcade. he would spend more time trying to win in every single game you two play together than actually anything date related—it makes you wonder if he forgot that you two were supposed to be there as a romantic thing. if he notices you're not having as much fun as him, he would try to get a plushie you want from a claw machine; your fun would come in the form of narumi failing multiple times to get any plushie at all.

soshiro hoshina would take you to the theater for a first date. he wanted to watch a comedy movie, his smile never leaving his lips as he talked about how he liked the actors in it. if there's another movie you want to watch too, he wouldn't mind watching both, so it could be a enjoyable night for both of you. he insists on paying for everything and grabs your favorite candies and beverage; but if you don't watch out, he might eat it all by himself.

isao shinomiya takes you to a fancy restaurant. the thing is: he gets a reservation for the whole restaurant. when he comes to pick you up at your place, he compliments your beauty—he still have the serious expression he always wears, but you can see how his eyes soften up a little—and opens the door for you. at the restaurant, you find it odd that only two waiters are working and there's no one there (you know it's a very good place, so it's even stranger). as if he read your thoughts, the man would whisper that he reserved the whole place so you two would be able to have a little more privacy. the whole night would be amazing, he would hear and ask questions about your day and life, even giving you a soft smile and chuckle if you said something funny that happened to you.

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seren1tyhaze · 1 year

Text

sunflower dreams

PAIRING: haechan x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: you have a new roommate who spends most of his time teasing you during the hours of games you play together online with your friends, but when it comes time to pick a new bed for your room, a sunflower shaped one seems like the perfect way to crack through his bratty exterior.

THANK YOU: A very belated happy birthday to our hyuckie and all my haechan smut lovers out there <3 Once I saw this photo on twitter I knew exactly what I would write for his birthday and I sincerely hope you all enjoy this brief drabble. @strwbrysunday as always, you know what I want to say to you. I'm so glad you enjoyed this <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, angst, weed smoking, vaping, breakup flashbacks

PLAYLIST: Sunflower, Vol. 6 by Harry Styles - Stronger by NCT Dream - Sunflower (P.E.L) by Choi Yoojung - Sunflower by Vampire Weekend

“What the HELL is in here?!” your roommate nearly screeched as he struggled to drag the heavy object in front of him over the door frame of your apartment.

“It’s for my room, I just need help getting it in there and then you can go back to your lame solo queuing and getting your ass kicked by 12 year olds,” you shouted back over the large cardboard box, tucking an annoying strand of hair back into your ponytail.

Hyuck huffed and tossed his phone onto the couch so he could pull the box easier. You could see his forehead over the top of the box as you pushed, sweat gathering at his brow under long, black bangs.

To be fair, the box was way bigger than you had thought it would be. The listing had said “minimal assembly” which you thought meant it would somehow not be huge - but it turned out to be the opposite. You felt slightly guilty that you had had to get Hyuck to help you come drag the box upstairs and inside.

You smirked deviously, hoping Hyuck’s annoyance would soon be replaced with excitement when he found out what you had ordered for your bedroom. The two of you had recently become roommates after you had ended things with your toxic ex and his roommate had taken a new job in another city.

“You’re letting a girl move in?!” Mark had exclaimed over the steaming hot pot, nearly choking on the clear glass noodles dangling from his lips.

“Mark, chill,” Hyuck had replied, rolling his eyes before dipping a thin piece of beef into the spicy broth in between them. “She’s cool and you know she’s better than half our friends at Valo and on the court.”

Hyuck wasn’t wrong, Mark had watched you pull through as the match MVP quite a few times and was always first picked whenever they played pick up games on the weekends at the gym.

Similarly, Johnny had almost blown a gasket when you had shared the news in a final screaming match the day you were supposed to be meeting your landlord for final checks of your unit. It started with him complaining that you hadn’t cleaned the kitchen well enough before he started asking about where you had moved to.

“Lee Donghyuck? That little twerp?” he had spat at you, looking you up and down, making you suddenly self conscious in the thin tank and sweats you had thrown on for the early morning appointment.

“Leave him alone, Johnny, he’s very nice to let me sublet the extra room at his place. Plus it’s all the way across town which means you don’t have to run into me,” you had rolled your eyes, glancing down at your phone to check the time, wondering how long you were going to have to talk to this asshole.

“I always knew he was desperate to fuck you,” Johnny mumbled. Jealousy and hatred laced his tone, and before you could ask for clarification, your landlord appeared in the doorway.

The two of you finally managed to drag the huge box down the hallway and you immediately grabbed your box cutter, desperate to get to work and get rid of all the extra packaging.

“I’ll leave you to it?” he commented, his statement coming out more as a question as he watched you begin to tackle the large box.

“Yeah yeah, I promise, I’m good! I’ll text you if I need help,” you added, pulling out a copious amount of bubble wrap and tossing it behind him.

“Please don’t,” he quipped back, turning on his heel and closing his door behind him.

Soon you could hear him yelling at Jeno to stop running ahead, knowing they had to be back grinding Fortnite ranks together and failing miserably. The two of them were awful at working together in duos and the only time they were even remotely successful at clearing out teams quickly was when you and Jaemin played with them in squads.

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes and finally placing your hand on a dark green, velvety pillow. Ripping the plastic bag open, you placed the pillow on your desk, beginning to unpack other pieces of soft, yellow cushions.

You had been scrolling through Pinterest one afternoon at work, hoping to find some ideas to decorate your new room. While you were able to take most of your furniture from your shared apartment with Johnny, the bed had been his, so you desperately needed to find a new one. You had been sleeping on a thin air mattress for the last couple weeks and Hyuck was tired of hearing you complain about your back.

The minute you had laid your eyes on the piece of furniture housed in the giant box you had just hauled in, you knew you had to get it. It matched your style perfectly and was also perfect in so many other ways.

The parts were awkward to fit together without a second set of hands, but it didn’t take too long to assemble. Once you stuffed all the packaging back into the box and pushed it back out into the living room, you stood sweaty but proud in front of your new, giant sunflower bed.

It was round, so it was hard to say if it was King sized, but it seemed pretty close based on the dimensions. The center was dark brown and fuzzy, with giant yellow petals spanning across the frame. You had already had your best friend crochet you some smaller sunflower and leaf decorative pillows that she had dropped off earlier that week. She had also shown up with a small panda plushie with a matching leaf on its head, giving you a long hug in your doorway and reminding you of how strong you were for finally dumping Johnny’s stupid ass.

Grabbing your towel, you headed to the bathroom to shower, letting the hot water cascade over your aching shoulders and scrubbing your body and hair quickly, desperate to take a nap in your new bed. When you passed Hyuck’s room again, you heard him still yelling at Jeno, but based on his call out it sounded like they were playing League and you decided against disturbing him. He would see your new furniture eventually and the growing pit in your stomach was preventing you from showing him anyways, nervous for his reaction.

Once back in your room, you dimmed the lights and put on your chill playlist. You lit some candles on your desk, followed by a blunt, letting the haze flow through the afternoon light streaming through your blinds. As soon as you had ordered the bed, you had found other matching decor for your room, hanging some lighted vines from your ceiling, cascading down the corner near the bed, blending into pale pink and green sheer curtains covering the window. A small mushroom side table held crystals, an ashtray, and your phone charger next to your bed. You smiled, looking around your new space that felt safe and unique to you.

During your relationship with Johnny, you felt like you had lost parts of yourself that had previously brought you so much confidence. He hated when you gamed with the guys, complaining that they were all flirting with you and in the midst of heated comms he would often unplug the router, blaming it on a power surge.

Whenever Jungwoo would come over for face masks and binging the latest season of Single’s Inferno, Johnny would watch with a chilly gaze from the kitchen, sharpening his chef’s knife before slicing up an apple. His possessiveness broke your relationship apart and while you still missed him, you would never miss that disease that plagued your time together.

After you slipped into a soft set of sleep shorts and a cropped tank, you finally let yourself fall onto the center of the large flower. The mattress was as comfortable as all the reviews had said, maybe even more. Taking a long, final drag of the blunt, you extinguished it in the ashtray and curled up into the pillows, smiling as you moved the small bear to your bedside table.

The soothing music, weed, and scent of your favorite candles made your eyes heavy, watching as the hazy smoke flowed through the rays of light across your ceiling, sun warming your bare legs. You don't know when exactly you drifted off to sleep but before you knew it you were stirred awake by a soft knock at the door.

“Hey…did you need any…” came Hyuck’s voice as the door swung open, barely giving you a chance to adjust your shirt that had ridden high up your side, exposing the underside of your breast. The waistband of your shorts had also ridden up your waist in your sleep, exposing much of your thigh.

“Oh…I uh, sorry I didn’t know you were sleeping,” he stuttered, moving to blow out the two candles on your desk, nervously avoiding eye contact with you.

“It’s okay, I should have said something but didn’t want to interrupt your game,” you replied groggily, lifting a heavy hand up to your eyes to rub at them.

“Wait…is that…”Hyuck trailed off, finally noticing the bed design. He looked adorable in the afternoon light, hood pulled up over messy hair, small sections of pink peeking through the black locks.

“A sunflower, yeah,” you replied with a smile, sitting up and leaning back on your arms, neglecting to adjust your shirt, chest pushed out at your new position. You dragged your legs up lightly, digging your feet into the fuzzy brown center of the bed and swaying your knees lighty as you spoke.

“A sunflower,” Hyuck repeated, unable to keep his eyes from dragging up and down your half naked body and damp hair. You looked ethereal in the golden hour sunlight and he let out a sigh before pulling his lime vape pen to his lips for a long drag. He kept eye contact with you through the cloud of smoke, a small smile breaking out onto his lips.

The bed was “perfect in many other ways” due to Hyuck’s gamer tag, SunnyFlowerz, one he had made years ago but had stuck. He had accumulated some sunflower related items over the years, including some stickers on his pc, a bright neon light that hung on the wall behind him and always visible on call, and the small crochet holder he kept his vape in. Some of the guys teased him about it but he always had new facts about the resilient flower to share, including how they track the sun and can self-pollinate.

You knew all these things because even before you had started dating Johnny you had always been intrigued by Donghyuck, the loud, whiny friend who sometimes had hot pink hair and laughed at all your stupid jokes when getting high in the park. You had thought about him late at night or as you touched yourself in the shower more times than you cared to admit. The first thing you had thought of when you saw the sunflower bed was how getting fucked by him in the middle of it would be the sweetest revenge you could ever imagine.

But now in the moment, with your legs inching open wider under Hyuck’s tense gaze, you knew it was more than revenge. You wanted to fall apart underneath him and the way he was looking at you right now confirmed he wanted it too.

Pulling one hand back over his shoulder, Hyuck pulled his hoodie off in a swift motion, dropping it to the floor as he stepped close to the bed, pausing at the edge as his shins touched the soft yellow petals.

“Is this for me?” he asked, dragging the back of his hand lightly against your bare calf.

“Maybe…” you trailed off, shivering slightly at his touch and pulling your chin up, silently begging him to come closer.

Dropping his knees to the bed one by one, he crawled between your legs, caging you in as he crowded over you, tight abs tensing as he leaned over you. His hair was dangling in his eyes, darkened with lust.

Your breath caught in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chest, playing with the thin strap of your shirt, pushing it down to expose your collar bone.

“A pretty flower, all opened up for me,” he murmured, dipping down to nip lightly at the skin of your neck, already on fire from the gentle touch of his fingers.

You felt your core tighten and breath pick up, desperate for him to touch you. Leaning your head back, you opened up more of your neck for him to mouth at, letting out a light moan as he dragged his lips up and down the column of your throat, laving his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you can’t help yourself from mumbling and you swear you can feel him smile against your skin.

“You hid it so well, PandaBare,” he hissed out mockingly, using your own gamer tag, causing you to flush.

“Maybe I have something to show you too,” he added, standing up on his knees to pull at the waistband of his loose gray sweats.

You sat up further on your elbows, gulping and eyes widening. You watched as he first pulled down the sweats and then moved achingly slow to slip his thumbs under the band of his black boxers.

“If you’re about to try to impress me with your massive cock, Lee Donghyuck, you should remember that I used to date the Johnny Suh,” you replied, rolling your eyes at him, even as your heart picked up speed in your chest.

He merely chuckled, ripping down his boxers suddenly, half hard cock springing out and demanding your attention.

Your eyes widened, not at the sight of his arousal, but at the black ink on his hip bone, suddenly visible to you for the first time. You had been to the pool with the boys a few times, but never seen this far below his shorts.

“Is that…” you croaked out, equally as speechless as he had been in your doorway earlier.

“A panda bear? Yeah, it is,” he smiled, running his thumb over the small line art before moving over you again.

“Guess we both weren’t fake flirting on vc then…” you sighed as everything flooded into place in your mind.

Hyuck had been the first to offer you a place to stay and none of the boys had dared say anything in opposition. Even your best friend had encouraged you to move in.

He was always the first one to ream out a sexist team mate on voice chat when they complained about a female voice in the lobby. He always sent you a game off your wishlist on Steam for your birthday, saying he did it for everyone, even if you knew he hadn’t gotten Mark a gift in years. And if Johnny’s reaction had told you anything, it seemed like everyone had been picking up on the vibes for a long time.

“We’re both idiots,” he laughed out, dipping down to finally capture your lips with his, pressing warmly against your mouth.

Your hands flew immediately into his long hair as he yanked down your shorts, grinding his bare crotch against yours. You moaned loudly into his mouth at the feeling of him against your core, wrapping your legs around him tightly, drawing him closer to you.

“Wait,” you gasped into his mouth, reaching your hand over to fumble for your phone.

“Important Twitter update to post?” he asked, cocking a brow as he lifted up, toying with the edge of your top and letting his fingertips brush across your nipples that were peeking out under the neon green fabric.

“No, I have something better,” you said slyly, opening your camera and pulling Hyuck back down on top of you by the back of his neck. Holding the phone out, you snapped a slightly blurry photo that clearly showed Hyuck’s muscular and bare back with you spread out underneath him on the sunflower bed.

You tapped into a phone conversation you hadn’t messaged in in a month, sending off the photo without a caption before letting your phone fall back to the bed.

“Oh you’re evil,” Hyuck laughed maniacally, crashing his lips against yours and snaking a hand between your bodies to drag a finger through your dripping folds.

“Hold on, send him another one like this,” Hyuck murmured against your mouth, kissing down your throat before pulling his face between your thighs and smiling up at you.

You grabbed your phone eagerly, arching your back and tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in ecstasy as you snapped a few photos and videos. A loud moan escaped your throat, causing you to drop the phone and focus back on Hyuck and the long night that seemed to be ahead of you as he pulled his tongue slowly up to your clit, moaning into you in pleasure.

Yes, the sunflower bed was for Hyuck. But also the perfect fuck you to the man who had broken your heart and spent so much time gaslighting and manipulating you.

Across town, a loud string of curses rang out in a tiny apartment, causing Taeyong to rip his headphones off in concern and push open Johnny’s bedroom door. Without replying to his friend, Johnny glanced down at the small sunflower tattoo on his arm and threw his phone violently across the room, knowing the screen most likely shattered as it bounced off the wall.

His angry, jealous comments he had made when he last saw you had been right. Hyuck had always wanted to fuck you and while this was the first time, it looked like this wasn’t going to be the last.

#nct smut #nct x reader #nct fanfic #haechan x reader #haechan smut #hyuck smut #hyuck x reader

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magiccath · 6 months

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Christmas with the Doctor

Tenth Doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which you and the Doctor celebrate Christmas

Traveling time and space constantly had one slightly annoying effect on the Doctor. He had absolutely no concept of time. Days, months, and years were but a loose concept to him. Usually, holidays just happened when he deemed fit. He would waltz into the TARDIS control room and declare that the day was special. Most of the time, you just went along with it. He did things on a whim, and Christmas was no expectation.

Just last month he decided it was time to set up a Christmas tree. The issue was, he didn’t have a tree. He had random spare robot parts, dog food (but no dog), the entire works of C.S. Lewis, two dead plants, a Santa costume, and 52 blankets hidden away on the ship. But he didn’t have a Christmas tree.

Determined to find one, he flew the TARDIS back to modern-day London without bothering to land during the correct time of year. He spent a whole day tramping about in the middle of Spring asking around for a Christmas tree. The various amounts of surprised looks and disgruntled shopkeepers explaining it was March didn’t stop him. Eventually, he found a second-hand shop that miraculously had a crappy plastic one in the back. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of an artificial tree, but it would have to do.

You had attempted to point out that he could just pop backward a few months and get a real one at the right time of year, but the Doctor’s mind didn’t think like that. To him, the simplest answer wasn’t always the right one.

Still, you’d helped him carry the big box back to the ship and held the doors open as he dragged it into the control room. You grabbed a cup of tea and leaned against the console to watch gleefully as he struggled to assemble the thing. Eventually, with the help of the Sonic, he got it all sorted out. After a few hours and lots of frustration, he had managed to set up a slightly lopsided plastic tree in the corner. Frankly, it looked a little sad.

“We need ornaments,” he frowned, circling the tree pensively.

“I don’t suppose you have those.” Considering he didn’t have a tree, it was highly unlikely that he had any other Christmas decorations.

He shook his head, “but we can make some,” he cheered, running about the TARDIS collecting various supplies. You watched him dash about with narrowed eyes, wondering what he meant by that.

He handed you a pair of scissors and a stack of construction paper, which you used to make paper chains. You sat idly, cutting and folding paper as he continued his rummaging. He’d pop out of the small storage bunkers in the floor every now and then wielding circular hardware and colorful string.

At one point, he plopped a dismembered Cyberman head on the floor with a loud clunk.

“What’s that for?” you asked, pointing with the tip of your scissors.

“Tree topper,” he smiled brightly, popping his head up from the floor, a massive grin plastered on his face.

You furrowed your brows but didn’t question it any further. Sometimes it was best to just let the Doctor do his thing. You found if you questioned things too much you typically ended up with more questions rather than answers.

Having collected everything that could pass as makeshift ornaments, the Doctor started hanging them on the limp limbs of the plastic tree. He handed you a few ‘ornaments’ and you helped him.

“I think I have some lights,” you mumbled, running off to your room. You came back a few moments later with a string of fairy lights that the Doctor helped you wrap around the tree.

When you were done, the two of you took a step back to admire your work. It was makeshift and messy at best, but it still made you smile. You looked over at the Doctor and found him grinning back at you.

“It’s perfect,” you laughed, knowing that you and the Doctor were likely the only people to ever think so. It wasn’t pretty, but it was reflective of your work together, and that was really all that mattered.

“I agree,” the Doctor smiled, picking you up and spinning you around the control room with a light-hearted laugh.

You had figured that was the rest of Christmas for a while, even if the tree remained in the corner of the control room. That was until the Doctor woke you up with a childish smile.

“It’s Christmas,” he grinned, tapping your cheek repeatedly. You frowned, eyes blurry from sleep.

“It’s what?” you grumbled, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you could glare at the Doctor.

“Christmas,” he stated, smiling at you.

“Now?” you asked, rubbing sleep from your eyes. The Doctor laughed like you had said something funny and grabbed your hand, yanking you out of bed. Too tired to protest, you allowed him to drag you out of your room and into the control room.

The lights were dimmed with a yellowish hue. In the corner, the Christmas tree sparkled. Your eyes traveled downward and saw that there was a small pile of presents underneath it. You had placed one or two parcels down there when you first set it up months ago, but the Doctor hadn’t noticed. You figured he would open them when he was ready.

The Doctor looked at you expectantly, a wide smile taking over his face. You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he was when he got excited.

“Happy Christmas,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around the Doctor’s middle.

“Happy Christmas!” he cheered back, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. You smiled softly, grateful that the dim lighting could hide your embarrassment.

“Come on,” he ushered, running over to the tree excitedly, “open your present.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you blushed, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. The Doctor shook his head in disagreement, “Nonsense.” He placed a brilliantly wrapped package in your hands. You took a moment to turn it over in your hands, admiring the wrapping job. It was neat and perfect, the kind of wrapping you see in Christmas movies. It didn’t seem the Doctor’s style.

“You did this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I worked in a department store briefly.” he shrugged without further explanation, “Open it!” He explained impatiently.

As you slowly and carefully unwrapped the box, the Doctor continued talking.

“Remember when we went to that abandoned mall?” He asked, a small glint sparking in his eye.

“The one that was infested with Weeping Angels?” you added with a shiver. It was lucky that the two of you even made it out of that one. You didn’t like thinking about it too much, it was the kind of adventure that left you with nightmares.

“Right, but that’s not the point,” he shook his head vigorously. “You talked about this store almost every mall had when you were a kid,” he grinned at you excitedly, proud of himself for remembering such a small detail.

“Build-A-Bear?” you asked, sliding the rest of the wrapping paper off of the box.

“That one!” He cheered, snapping his fingers in recognition. “The one where they put the hearts in the bears.”

You nodded as you opened the box, unsure why he was bringing this up now. When you saw what was inside it became very clear. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers ghosted around the object in the box.

“Doctor,” you cried, your eyes widening.

“It made me wonder if I could get you one with two hearts,” he grinned cheekily.

Your hands squeezed around the bear's chest, and sure enough, there were two hearts inside. “The workers looked at me like I was insane,” He laughed, “The paws are TARDIS blue too,” he pointed out.

You turned the bear over in your hands, a tear pricking your eyes.

“Do you like it?” The Doctor asked quietly, scared that it wasn’t as amazing of a gift as he had previously assumed.

“It’s perfect,” you sniffled, clutching the bear to your chest. It reminded you of the Doctor, of your home on the TARDIS. It was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful gifts that you had ever received.

You felt a surge of love and threw yourself into the Doctor’s arms, burying your face in his neck. He smelled so much like himself, a scent that had become familiar to you over time.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your warm breath fanning his skin. The Doctor beamed, more than happy that he could make you happy. He could feel his hearts quickening and hoped that you wouldn’t notice.

“I’m glad,” he smiled softly, resting his head in your hair.

“This puts my gift to shame,” you groaned, pulling away.

The Doctor looked at you with interest as you fished out your poorly wrapped parcel from under the tree. Compared to the Doctor’s it was a mess - pieces of tape all over, and the paper was more crinkled together than folded.

“That’s for me?” He asked, shocked that you had gotten him anything. He looked at the parcel like it was the best-wrapped present in the world.

“Yes, you stupid spaceman,” you teased, handing him the present. He looked down at it with love, running his fingers across the smooth wrapping paper. He couldn’t remember the last time someone got him a present.

“Go on, open it,” you urged, leaning closer to him with an expectant grin.

Carefully, so as not to rip the paper, the Doctor unwrapped the small box. Then, he gently lifted the top to reveal his present. Inside, there were three silken ties with stunning patterns etched into the fabric.

“I got them when we went to that space market,” you explained, “I figured you could use some new ones.”

“They’re silk,” he gasped, his hands brushing over the fabric lightly.

You nodded meekly, “A bit nicer than your usual ones.”

The Doctor looked up at you with a lopsided grin, his hand still running over one of the ties.

“Help me put it on?” He asked. You laughed, finding the request obscure since he was in pajamas. It felt silly to put a silk tie on over a sleep shirt.

“Sure,” you said anyway, taking the tie from his hands. He had picked out the dark blue one, and if you looked closely you could see delicate ivy leaves patterned on the fabric. Your fingers worked gently and nimbly to knot the tie around his neck, sliding it up gently.

“There,” you smiled, patting it down so it lay flat.

The Doctor knew how to tie his own ties. Frankly, he was probably better at it than you. Even still, any chance he got he asked you to do it for him. He’d never admit it, but he liked the proximity of it. Even more, he liked how you bit your lip in concentration as you delicately knotted the fabric together.

“How do I look?”

“Handsome,” you smiled brightly. You could have sworn you imagined a rose-colored blush spreading across his cheeks at your compliment, but he turned away before you could be sure.

“Thank you,” he smiled, taking your hand so he could cradle it gently.

“You’re very welcome,” you whispered, looking down in embarrassment.

“How about breakfast?” He asked, already excited to move on to the next activity. You watched wide-eyed as he jumped up from his seat, offering a hand to you.

“You made breakfast?” you asked, eyes narrowing. The last time he tried to cook he forgot about the oven and burned the TARDIS kitchen down. The time before that, he left cookies in for way too long and made them all kinds of crispy.

He nodded, “proper English breakfast. Not burned this time.”

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“Yes,” he laughed, wiggling his outstretched fingers at you. Taking the hint, you grabbed his hand to follow him.

Sure enough, he had managed to make breakfast without burning anything. Anything that you could see or smell, that is.

“How did you..?” you asked with amazement, looking down at the perfectly cooked meal in front of you. The Doctor just winked in response, leaving you wondering where the food really came from.

“Also!” He said, cutting off your questioning thoughts. “I found Christmas crackers!” He exclaimed cheerfully, brandishing two bright red crackers in his hands.

“I love Christmas crackers!” you gasped, taking one from his hand. The Doctor smiled to himself, he knew you did, that’s why he got them.

“Come on!” you grinned, holding out one end to the Doctor, “help me open it.”

The Doctor smiled himself, it was hard not to when you were this happy. He helped you pull open both crackers. He even let you put one of the silly paper crowns on him.

“They’re the best part,” you smiled, sliding one on top of his head. The Doctor looked up at you with thinly veiled adoration.

“Are they?” He asked with a lopsided smile.

You blushed and nodded before plopping back down in your seat, already scooping bits of food onto your fork.

“Thank you for this,” you whispered, looking down into your food.

“For what?” The Doctor laughed.

“All of this,” you said, gesturing with your fork, “the tree, the present, the crackers.”

“It was nothing,” The Doctor shook his head. To him, it really wasn’t much. He would do anything for you, making sure you had a good Christmas was just a small service.

“Thank you anyway,” you grinned, taking his hand gently. The Doctor smiled softly back at you and rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand comfortingly.

“Best Christmas ever,” you beamed happily, and you meant it.

A/N: I hope you all have a wonderful holiday!!

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softtdaisy · 6 months

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🌲 save us for later l pierre gasly

summary. Christmas could have been great. if pierre didn't forget to tell his parents you broke. and you didn't have to pretend you were still together.

words count. 2,434

a/n. ok I'm totally obsessed with this one and I really hope you will love it as much as I do🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

“I can’t believe you did that.”

You heard Pierre sigh by your side, like he was already tired of this situation.

Like it wasn’t his fault if you were there today. What a joke.

“You don’t even try to understand.” he added, still focused on the road to not look at you. You noticed he was gripping the wheel so hard his joints were white. Or how he was biting his lips so badly, a habit you helped him to cease doing but apparently he didn’t stop, it was almost bleeding.

But you couldn’t care less. Because this was so typical of Pierre: putting the blame on you by saying you didn’t want to hear his explanation.

“Oh.” you laughed nervously, turning to look at him. “Maybe you’re right.” you took a break long enough for him to frown, wondering if you really agreed with him. He knew for sure that during your past arguments, none of you would flinch this easily.

“I really can’t fucking understand how you could lie to your parents and pretend we are still together, Pierre.”

“What was I supposed to do?

“Tell the fucking truth.” you replied, slamming your hand on the dashboard.

This was absolutely not how you planned your Christmas’ eve.

Well, to be honest, you didn’t plan much. Your parents were away for the holiday and you were just going to eat some homemade food in front of a christmas movie. Nothing much but a well appreciated evening.

For sure, you didn’t plan on spending it with your ex-boyfriend and his family.

Pierre suddenly drove on the sideway and stopped there, getting some horns from annoyed drivers. You looked at him with confusion, he wasn’t the reckless driver type. Obviously. It was his habit to scare you when you shared the car.

He stopped the car and turned to you. “I fucked up, ok? I know that. On so many levels.” you rolled your eyes at this and held back any bad comments. “But everything went fast after our breakup. I haven't seen them since this summer and I couldn’t announce that we broke off our engagement through the phone. When my mom said they were waiting for us tonight, I didn’t have the heart to ruin their christmas. You can blame me for lying. But don’t fucking blame me for protecting my parents for god sake!”

Pierre was right. You knew it.

It was something you’ve always kinda admired about him: how his family would always go first. You couldn’t count the number of hours you waited for him in the hotel room, ready to go out and celebrate, while he was on the phone with his parents or his brothers. For sure, you would be a liar to blame him for something you’ve always encouraged him to do.

Especially considering that you accepted to play pretend tonight for the sake of protecting them, too.

When Pierre called you tonight, you didn’t answer. When he texted you, you barely read the message.

When he knocked on your door, you didn’t have any other choice than to open.

And when he told you, you needed to come with him at his parents’ place to act like a couple even though you’ve been apart for three months now because he still hasn't told them about you…well you laughed. Nervously. And argued a lot.

Then you realised you didn’t want to be the bad person in this narrative. What was one night in a whole life?

You sighed, still looking at Pierre. He still hasn’t moved, waiting for an answer from you. You got lost in each other’s eyes.

And that was the thing that convinced you to come. The fact that he was ready to bring you back home if you really didn’t want to accompany him.

“Fine.” you sat back normally. “You could have told them I wasn’t available.”

You heard Pierre laugh softly. “You still want to have the last word I see.”

Most of the ride went quietly after that. Pierre put on some music and you answered most of your texts. You only started to talk again ten minutes before you arrived to make sure you had the same ideas in mind. No break up, you were still planning your wedding and happy as before. And the reason you didn’t see his family in so long was simply a lack of time from both of you.

“And…” Pierre started once he was parked in front of his family house. You frowned, wondering what you could have potentially forgotten. You memorised everything and it wouldn’t be that hard to pretend after a three year relationship.

But then it hit you when he took the box out of his pocket. “I almost forgot it at home but it’s here.”

You remember when Pierre proposed to you.

You went to Greece during the summer break, last year. One night, while you were walking around the city, you found a place that was recreating Mamma Mia and invited everyone to sing and have fun. And so you went there, singing Abba the whole night. At some point during the night, after a kiss that lasted longer than it should in public, Pierre looked at you with a big smile and said “I want to marry you.” You laughed, thinking he was joking. But he wasn’t. “I meant it. Would you marry me?” and this time you started to cry, nodding so hard you had a neckache.

You later learnt that Pierre had imagined a whole different scenario for the proposal. But it spoke with his heart and did it when it felt perfectly right.

And tonight, you were putting back the ring you worshipped with your whole heart. “It feels weird.” you whispered.

Pierre didn’t answer and simply left the car. It was hard for him too. Acting like he didn’t lose the woman of his life over stupid decisions.

“Vous voilà! Je suis tellement contente de vous voir.” (oh there you are! I’m so happy to see you)

Before you even got the chance to prepare yourself in front of the door, Pierre’s mom opened it and took you both in her arms. You couldn’t lie, it felt good to see her and feel just as appreciated as before. Like nothing changed. And it was the truth, somehow. For his mom, nothing has changed. You were still her son’s fiancé, the one she almost saw as a daughter.

You looked at them, the way she kept touching his face to see any changes. And, what she told you one day, if he had any scars from races he tried to hide from her. You had this weird feeling of being home. Like you were right where you belong. For a second, you were back a year ago, when everything was perfectly fine.

But then it hit you when Pierre took your hand to bring you inside to see everyone. It always felt natural when you were holding hands. In one of your birthday cards, you told him he must be your soulmate simply because your hands seemed to be held by the other.

Tonight, it didn’t feel natural. It was hesitant. Pierre wasn’t confident about closing his fingers on yours and you could feel it.

Everybody seemed so happy to see. They all see you as an official member of their family. And it would be lying to say you weren’t happy to be by their side too.

It helped that you didn’t see much of them for months. You spend the first two hours of the night talking with everyone but Pierre. Asking about their life, their own family, their friends… you had many things to learn. And you avoided some questions. That was one of the rules you established with Pierre. Pretend that the wedding was a big secret you couldn’t tell a thing about. For the rest, you just made the truth prettier.

Sure, you started a new job. But you didn’t admit it was a full time one because you didn’t go to the races anymore.

Yes, your pet was doing so fine. You just had to find the right pictures that would show your new apartment.

No, you still haven’t decided where you would spend the winter break with Pierre. Because you weren’t going on any holiday anymore. At least, not together.

The dinner was a little harder to live. Because you sat next to Pierre, like it was planned. Like it has always been. And this time, compared to the whole drive, you felt more trapped. Because you couldn’t roll your eyes at what he was saying, or avoid his hand when he tried to touch you. Everyone would notice that and understand that something was wrong. You had to be careful.

So careful that, at some point during the evening, you even forgot why you were acting like that. You got lost in his stories about races you went to and especially those you miss after your breakup. You laughed at his joke, sympathised with his bad moments and cheered at the podium you missed.

You remember that day, or night actually for you. You didn’t watch the end of the season after your separation but you still had the notifications from the official account. So you knew the results. And when you learnt that Pierre had secured a second place on the podium, you almost called him. It was still a natural reflex: this desire of celebrating with your loved one.

But you didn’t. You didn’t even send him a text. And for one good reason: the last text you got from him was simply “Je suis désolé” (i am sorry) and you couldn’t handle the pain of going through the pain again.

There had been hard times these past months where you almost forgive Pierre for breaking your engagement. There had been many times where you still wanted to call him and insult him for breaking up just because he woke up one day and realised this was maybe not what he wanted for his future.

What was this? This has been the question you’ve asked yourself many, many times. Was it your couple, your wedding or just you? You had no idea. Pierre couldn’t even explain it himself. He just knew that it wouldn’t be fair to keep pretending he was happy in a life he learnt to despise.

And it was now, sitting by his side, that you realised you had overcome all these mixed feelings. You felt alright. Not good, because the wound was still wide open. But you had accepted it. You would never marry Pierre. And you didn’t want to anymore.

After he finished telling the story of the last race of the season and the battle of champagne he had with Charles, while everyone was talking together, Pierre turned to you. You both got lost in each other's eyes. And you were convinced his little smile was a soft thank you. For being here, for lying, for…being happy.

Because it hadn’t been easy months for Pierre either. Many times he woke up, thinking he had made the worst decision of his life. And some morning, he still wonders if he didn’t lose you for nothing. And those questions weren’t created by some insecurities about his happiness because he knew that he felt happier without this weight on his shoulder. But because he was scared he had ruined you. He would have accepted to be miserable for the rest of his life over this stupid. But he couldn’t accept hurting you forever.

But tonight, you both realised that maybe, things were going better for the both of you. And maybe, that night, was the one you both needed to start healing.

This helps the rest of the night go smoothly. You played games together, laughed together without thinking about the lie you were telling everyone. Even the drive back home felt natural, you talked about his family a lot. He even asked about yours. It was a whole different from the outward journey earlier.

Pierre insisted on walking to your door with you. “It wasn’t that bad, right?” you couldn’t help but smile at him. He had this kind of unserious almost flirty tone like he needed to prove to himself and to you that he was right, in the end. It wasn’t such a terrible thing to do.

You crossed your arms on your chest, a way to protect your heart from opening itself again. “No it wasn’t. You’re right.” he shrugged like it wasn’t such a surprise and you immediately hit him in the chest. You both laughed and oh how it felt good to be this lighthearted again for a few minutes.

It meant more than you imagined that you were standing in front of your door, with your ex-fiancé in front of you. When you could already be in the bed but rather got lost in his eyes. Because you knew exactly what this moment was. And deep down, you weren’t ready to let it go.

You could hear Pierre talk before he even opened his mouth. “We were good together, huh?” you tried to not focus on his glossy eyes or the way he was playing with his fingers.

“Yeah, we were.” you smiled, containing your own tears from falling. “It was good while it lasted.”

Pierre crossed the few steps between you. You closed your eyes when you felt his lips on your forehead. Such a kind and sweet attention you remember he had when you started dating. When, for the first time maybe in his life, he wanted to take things slow to make them last. But this time, there were no other moments to share. And you had to watch him leave your place.

For the last time.

You finally put the key in the door, taking your time to not close this chapter of your life too fast. “Eh!” you jumped, turning around immediately and saw Pierre holding the elevator’s door open. “You know I'll still love you, right?”

“I do.” you tried to ignore this weird feeling in your stomach, not waiting to think about the fact you ended up saying the two words you would never say to him. “Me too.”

There lies the truth. You loved each other. Still.

But you couldn’t be together anymore.

And so when you finally opened the front door and got inside. When Pierre finally let the elevator closed on him and brought him back to his car. You both knew what it meant.

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