#and why do i keep getting back into retail
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Hey I have this Charles x reader request in mind where they're in a backstreet relationship and someone is being rude to her while she's in Monaco? the rest of how the story goes is up to you:)
Protective Boyfriend Mode (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)
Genre: Fluff
Word count : 2,8k
Dating Charles Leclerc in secret has its perks.
For starters, Y/N doesn’t have to dodge the metaphorical tomatoes hurled by the public just yet. The judgment, the microscopic scrutiny, and the sky-high expectations that come with being a WAG? She’s more than happy to keep those at bay for now.
Y/N doesn’t mind that the world has no clue she's dating Charles. What really counts is how he treats her when they’re away from prying eyes. Who needs the world to know when she gets the best version of him, away from the cameras and the chaos?
His family, of course, is in on the secret and backs her decision to stay incognito. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t need the publicity circus that would erupt if they went public. She enjoys her peaceful, average life, free from paparazzi ambushes and social media execution.
Sometimes, Y/N can’t help but indulge in a little harmless online stalking of Charles’ exes—Giada Gianni, Charlotte Siné, Alexandra Saint-Mleux. These women look like they’ve stepped straight out of a magazine cover, and she has zero shame in admitting it. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason, and let’s face it, she’s only human.
What really gets her is trying to figure out why on earth Charles latched onto her after dating these goddesses. It’s like he stepped out of a sleek Ferrari and decided to cruise around on a humble bicycle.
She swings between feeling like the luckiest girl alive and wondering if he might need a stronger prescription for his glasses. The whole situation leaves her scratching her head and laughing at the absurdity of it all.
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Today, everything grated on her nerves. Her hair looks like it could fry chips. Her skin is dull enough to blend into the wallpaper. The toaster has chosen today of all days to go on strike. To top it off, her co-workers keep bombarding her with Teams calls without even checking if she’s available. If she could rate this day, it would get a solid 0 out of 10.
“Can this day get any worse?” she mutters to herself, glancing at her reflection. “Y/N, you’re one bad hair day away from looking like Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Her laptop buzzes with another Teams call. She groans and answers, forcing a smile. “Hi, Harvey. Can I help you?”
“Hey, Y/N! Quick question—”
“Harvey, quick question for you: Did you check if I’m available?”
“Uh, no?”
“Exactly, so please, next time, do me a solid and check if I'm available before hitting that call button, okay?”
Just then, her phone buzzes with a text from Charles.
“Hope your day’s going better than mine! My helmet decided to play hide and seek.”
She snickers and types back.
“At least your helmet’s hiding. The toaster just gave up on life.”
“I'm really sorry about your day, ma chérie. But I promise to make it better. I'll swing by your favorite bakery and bring back a ridiculous amount of cakes just for you.”
That earned a smile out of her. Trust Charles to know exactly what she needs.
As Y/N tries to shake off the day's frustrations, she decides to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Among the posts, one catches her eye—a recent upload from Jasmine Tookes, her celebrity crush since forever. Jasmine looks stunning, as always, flaunting a gorgeous Yves Saint Laurent bag in cherry red that's absolutely to die for.
Y/N can practically feel the allure of the bag through the screen, and an idea sparks in her mind. The YSL boutique is just a short walk away.
“Maybe a little retail therapy is just what I need to salvage this day,” she muses aloud.
Without giving it a second thought, she grabs her purse and heads out the door.
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As Y/N steps into the YSL boutique, she's greeted by the scent of a distinct perfume mingled with a hint of leather. The store is relatively empty, save for a few tourists browsing the shelves. Undeterred, Y/N scans the display case, her eyes searching for that coveted cherry-red bag she spotted on Jasmine Tookes' Instagram.
From her peripheral vision, she notices a couple of sales assistants giving her a once-over, but no one approaches her. She shrugs it off, relishing the freedom to browse at her own pace. Finally, she spots the bag she's been dreaming of and makes her way over to it.
“Excuse me,” she calls out to one of the nearby sales assistants politely. “Could you tell me about the stock availability and the price of this bag?”
The sales assistant approaches, but when she begins speaking in French, Y/N's heart sinks. She's not fluent in French, and she quickly apologizes, asking if they could switch to English instead.
There's a momentary hesitation from the sales assistant, who seems to be holding back an eye-roll, before reluctantly switching to English. The demeanor, however, turns chilly, and Y/N can't shake the feeling of being judged.
“I'm sorry, but that particular item is not available,” the sales assistant replies curtly, her tone dripping with condescension. “Perhaps you should try checking other stores that may be more suited to your purchasing ability.”
Y/N's cheeks flush with frustration, her jaw clenching as she tries to maintain her composure. She can't believe she's being treated this way in a store she loves. Taking a deep breath, she forces a polite smile, trying not to cause a scene.
“Excuse me,” she says as politely as she can muster, her voice trembling slightly. “May I ask what made you say that to me?”
The sales assistant's gaze hardens, her tone dripping with disdain. “Maybe you should look into a mirror and see your own appearance today.”
Y/N's eyes widen in disbelief. So what if she's just dressed in a plain t-shirt and linen pants? Is minimalism suddenly not cool anymore?
Y/N retorts, her voice edged with disbelief. “Are you seriously judging me based on how I look? Last time I checked, being a customer wasn't contingent on wearing a designer outfit.”
As she speaks, Y/N notices some discreetly filming tourists nearby, their expressions mirroring her shock and disbelief. She feels a surge of vindication knowing she's not the only one appalled by the sales assistant's behavior.
Y/N's fists clench tighter at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggles to contain her rising anger. The sales assistant's dismissive wave and condescending tone only serve to fuel the fire burning within her.
“Madame, this is a respected establishment,” the SA says, her voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “Please take your leave.”
Y/N's jaw tightens, her frustration reaching its peak. She opens her mouth to retort, to unleash the torrent of words building up inside her, but then she stops. What's the point? Arguing with someone who clearly lacks any sense of professionalism would only waste her energy.
With a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turns on her heel and strides out of the store, her head held high despite the humiliation burning in her chest. She refuses to let this one encounter ruin her day, but she also knows she won't be returning to that boutique anytime soon.
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By the time Charles arrived home, juggling two bulging shopping bags filled with an assortment of delectable cakes, he could practically taste the sour mood emanating from Y/N. Despite her attempts to shrug off whatever had bothered her, Charles refused to let it slide.
He set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, his brow furrowed in concern as he approached Y/N. “Hey, bébé , what's wrong?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
Y/N forced a tight smile, trying to brush off his concern. “Oh, it's nothing, Charles. Just a little hiccup. Not worth your energy, really.”
But Charles wasn't about to let it go that easily. He could sense her distress, and he wasn't one to stand idly by when someone he cared about was upset.
Before he could press further, Charles' phone rang, signaling an incoming text message. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced at the screen, seeing the name Lorenzo flashing across it. The text sounded urgent, almost concerned, and Charles felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the words: “You need to see this.”
Curiosity mingled with dread as Charles opened the message, his heart sinking as he watched the video attached to it. There, playing out on his phone screen, was footage taken by a tourist earlier at the YSL store. His jaw clenched in anger as he watched Y/N being treated with such disrespect, her humiliation on full display for the world to see.
He curses under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides as he paces back and forth in the living room. His mind racing with thoughts of how to address the situation.
Charles then gently takes Y/N's hands in his own, his expression softening with concern as he looks into her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me about this right away?”
Y/N's smile falters slightly, and he can see the sadness lurking behind her eyes, but she quickly masks it with a playful tone. “Ah, you know me, always trying to avoid unnecessary drama,” she says, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. “Besides, sometimes people are just assholes, right?”
Her attempt at humor falls a bit flat, and Charles can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being there to protect her. He squeezes her hands gently, his voice filled with determination. “You shouldn't have to deal with this alone, Y/N. I'm here for you.”
Y/N gives him a small, grateful smile, but he can tell she's still trying to downplay the situation. “Hey,” she says, her tone lightening, “at least people will think it's just a video of some random person being treated badly in a luxury brand store. They won't know it's Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, right? So, let's just let it go and move on.”
She tries to lighten the mood with a joke, but Charles can sense the underlying tension beneath her words. He knows she's just trying to protect him from the inevitable media storm that would follow if the video gained more traction.
But Charles can't shake the feeling of anger and frustration bubbling inside him. He wants to defend her honor, to make sure she never has to endure such treatment again.
Reluctantly, he nods, forcing a small smile of his own. “Okay chérie. Let's just focus on enjoying these cakes, shall we?”
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The very next day, unbeknownst to Y/N, Charles decides to pay a visit to the YSL store. With a determined look in his eyes, he discreetly asks for the service of the sales assistant who humiliated Y/N.
Colette, the SA in question, practically beams with excitement and arrogance when she learns that Charles Leclerc has requested her personally. Straightening her posture, she approaches him with an air of self-importance.
“How may I be of service, Monsieur Leclerc?” Colette asks, her tone laced with enthusiasm.
Pathetic. Charles thought to himself.
He adopts a casual demeanor, pretending to browse the store as if looking for a gift for his girlfriend. “I'm looking for something special for my girlfriend,” he says casually, noting the way Colette's eyes light up at the mention of his romantic status.
Colette tries to contain her excitement, feigning nonchalance as she responds, “Oh, I wasn't aware you had a new girlfriend since your breakup with Alexandra Saint-Mleux. She is also a regular customer here.”
Charles decides to play along, a dangerous glint in his eye as he says, “Yes, my current girlfriend is a very private person. She prefers to stay out of the spotlight.”
Curiosity getting the better of her, Colette can't help but ask, “May I see a picture of her? Just in case she happens to come by, I'd love to be able to assist her.”
Charles smirks inwardly, knowing this is his moment to turn the tables. “Sure, why not?” he replies, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his gallery.
As he shows Colette a picture of himself and Y/N together, he watches with satisfaction as the color drains from her face, her eyes widening in shock and recognition.
Colette's apologies pour out in a torrent, her voice trembling as she stammers out excuses. “I-I had no idea, Monsieur Leclerc! If I had known, I would never have acted that way. Please, forgive me!”
Charles maintains a cool and collected demeanor, but his words are razor-sharp as he addresses Colette. “Your behavior reflects poorly on the brand,” he says icily, his tone dripping with disdain. “Perhaps they should consider terminating your employment for such unprofessional conduct.”
Charles's threat hangs in the air like a storm cloud, and Colette's eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the gravity of her mistake. She scrambles to salvage the situation. “Monsieur Leclerc, please, I assure you, this is not how we typically treat our customers. I'm deeply sorry for any inconvenience I've caused.”
But Charles remains unmoved, his defensive stance unwavering as he delivers his next line with a sharp edge. “I suggest you think twice before treating customers so disrespectfully in the future,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Colette can only nod, her eyes downcast in shame as she mumbles yet another apology.
Seeing the tension escalate, the store manager, who has been discreetly observing the commotion, rushes over to where they are. He offers his own profuse apologies, his tone filled with urgency. “Monsieur Leclerc, I am terribly sorry for the behavior of my staff. This is unacceptable, and I assure you, Colette will be disciplined for her actions.”
Charles raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Disciplined, you say? Well, I suppose that's a start. But perhaps I should take my business elsewhere, like Dior or Chanel.”
The store manager's eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion of losing such a high-profile customer. “No, Monsieur Leclerc, please, we value your patronage! I assure you, this will not happen again. Please, allow us to make it right.”
Charles offers a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate your swift action, but I do hope this serves as a lesson for your staff moving forward.”
He then gestures towards the display. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to purchase the bag my girlfriend had her eye on.”
The store manager nods hurriedly, signaling to a nearby assistant to fetch the bag. As they scurry to fulfill Charles' request, the manager returns with a bouquet of peonies wrapped elegantly.
“Please accept these peonies as a gesture of our sincere apology,” the manager says, offering the flowers to Charles. “We hope this helps to make amends for the madame.”
Charles accepts the bouquet with a nod. “Thank you,” he says, his tone clipped. “I'm sure my girlfriend will appreciate the thoughtfulness. She's far more forgiving than I am, fortunately for you.”
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Y/N is furiously typing away on her laptop when the front door swings open. She squints at the figure entering the room, only to catches sight of her boyfriend holding something suspiciously behind his back.
“Baby, what are you up to now?” she teases, a grin spreading across her face.
He feigns innocence. “Oh, just a little surprise for my favorite woman.”
Y/N's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she eagerly stands up, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, do tell!”
In a dramatic motion, Charles presents her with the unmistakable YSL bag. Y/N's jaw practically hits the floor as she exclaims, “Oh, no, you didn't!”
Charles chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. “Oh yes, I did, chérie. And just wait until you see what's inside!”
Excitedly, Y/N opens the bag, her eyes widening in awe as she pulls out the coveted item. She tries it on with exaggerated walk, striking poses as if she's on a runaway.
Charles watches her with a mixture of adoration and amusement, his heart swelling with love for this wonderful person.
But then, amidst her excitement, Y/N's expression turns serious as she asks about the sales assistant.
Charles adopts a mock serious tone, his eyebrows shooting up in faux concern. “Well you know, she's just taking a little timeout to contemplate the error of her ways.” he replies, his gaze flickering with a hint of satisfaction.
Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, but before she can inquire further, Charles pulls her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her tightly.
“And also,” Charles adds, “they threw in some peonies.”
“Peonies? Are they trying to bribe me with flowers now?”
Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, considering the ordeal you went through, I'd say they owe you a bouquet or two.”
Y/N playfully rolls her eyes. “I hope they at least remembered to include a card with a heartfelt apology from the SA.”
Charles raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You mean the 'Sorry we were jerks, here are some flowers' card?”
They both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of the situation not lost on them. It's moments like these that make even the most frustrating experiences worth it.
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#f1#f1 blurb#f1 fandom#formula 1 x female reader#f1 one shot#formula one oneshot#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#cl16#cl16 x y/n#cl16 one shot#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#cl16 x reader#cl16 fic#cl16 fluff
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I’m gonna try and push through my wips tonight. I had two shitty and awfully long shifts the last two days and I need some comfort in form of writing.
#elle’s update#elle’s wip#morpheus x reader#lord morpheus x reader#lord dream x reader#royal series#harry styles x british royal!reader#harry styles x pregnant!reader#harry styles x student!reader#stephen strange x reader#dad!stephen strange#why do we need money for a living#seriously#and why do i keep getting back into retail
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me: yeah so we haven't had a meeting about it yet, but I asked my coworkers about past interns and why they left; chances are they won't hire me full time at my internship immediately. However, the chances of having it extended are pretty good, and I like what I'm doing, and they're going to be talking about budget in July. Sure my finances are a little tight but--
my sperm donor (only slightly exaggerated): look for a new job immediately and tell them if they won't hire you full time you're leaving. and no, I don't care if you don't find something in your industry and you have to settle for a job that will make you hate being alive even more than you already do. Also I'm going to ignore how long it took you to find this internship to begin with
me:
#dylawa rambles#dylawa rants#this man gives zero fucks about actually seeing me go into what I fucking trained to do he just wants me to make him money#i am literally sick to my stomach right now thinking about job hunting again#'i want to see you successful and happy' okay why are you still charging me rent then#why are you making job hunting even more of a traumatic experience than it already is#literally said to him 'I don't trust my chances of finding a new job within two months' and his response: 'oh well go work customer service#it took me MONTHS to find just this internship and it's a miracle it's paid at all#it's in a nice office with nice people and i have my own computer and they feed me almost daily!#i'll live another six months in this hellhole if it means I get a guaranteed post-internship job like this#is it the ideal job? absolutely the hell not#the commute sucks i don't have work from home so i can't get away with doing other shit on the side#i feel limited in what the role requires of me vs what I'd like to make#but good fuck it's better than food service or retail#but nooooo he needs me to be his little rent cash cow without him feeling guilty about it#very tempted to bail even if it means I start eating through my savings a little bit#I don't know if I can go through the daily interrogations of 'did you apply? why aren't you hearing back? it's your fault' again#i have somewhere to go but I'm trying to keep it very 'last resort' territory#A) it would make my current work commute twice as long#B) it would require completely burning bridges with my old man bc I'd have to move out in secret#not just because i don't want him to know where the people who are sheltering me live#but also because if he saw that place even if he was willingly letting me move out he'd say 'absolutely not'#because I don't trust him not to do something weird. not necessarily DANGEROUS but. weird.#I want to burn all bridges someday!#but even now that I own my car it's still not the safest course of action#I'm so sick of being stuck dawg!#dylawa vents
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Guess who fucked up her knee again??? And AT WORK no less
#oh god i hate this. everything about this. like i am crying and screaming and throwing up#GOD girl. honestly i think the worst part was it was almost the end of my shift. it was ~4:05 and i was sipping my water as i do#and i was about to go back to the counter and get back at it and serve the customers that were there. but i must have.. slipped? or twisted#something wrong??? i don’t know. all i know is my knee popped straight out of its socket and i SCREAMED and fell to the fucking ground#my coworker (we’ll call the sheriff) tried to grab me and failed. i just sat there with my head in my hands thinking PLEASE tell me this#didn’t fucking happen. it did though. VERY publicly#i don’t know who summoned them but the retail manager and my ultimate boss wheeled me out 🫠 and the marketing guy drove me to the hospital 🫠#which didn’t have an x-ray because shitty small town hospital 🫠🫠🫠 but we managed to rendezous with my stepdad there#at which point i was handed over to him. at which point i decided ‘fuck the hospital’ because literally they did NOTHING the first time i#dislocated my knee. they didn’t even x-ray it or prescribe me anything!!!! they just hurt me more; told me i’d overextended a ligament#and sent me home to convalesce. so i was like.. i mean i don’t feel like doing that again#i can tell my kneecap is back in the socket because girl i made it upstairs. like. yes it hurts like hell but i don’t think anything#is broken. i DO need to find out why this shit keeps happening to me and what i can do to stop it; but that’s not an a&e situation#that’s a gp or a physio or a fucking knee expert or something#so basically i’m going to stay in my bed with my brace and an ice pack and some entertainment and see what happens to me#i already know this is bad. like. as bad as the first time probably#the second and third times i was able to walk unassisted afterwards. i can’t walk unassisted. so.#basically tomorrow i’m going to call my boss and be like ‘i don’t think i can come in for the rest of the week on account of my knee#is approximately the size of texas and i have officially sprained it badly. but i’ll update you’#i hope i’m wrong. i hope i wake up tomorrow to just like a mild ache and feel STUPID#girl i can’t believe i’m saying this but i want to go to work. i want to work bank holiday sunday PLEEEEEAAAAAASE#i don’t want to limp around my house and cry. recuperating from an injury is the fucking worst WHY must i do it again#so. if you need me i’m going to be eating whatever the hell my mom has prepared (worst part of this is i can’t even cook for myself)#and reading… something. or i might play stardew honestly. or write!! i’ve been wanting to write for so long my god#so that’s my life currently 🙃🙃🙃#personal
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I LOVE YOU PAST MILO -current Milo nauseas head in a sparkling clean toilet I cleaned literally a half hour ago and then got too high while celebrating how clean it looked and feel sick now😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
#but yipppee sparkly clean. gonna put a little sticky toilet gel thing on the inside while I’m in here#maybe throw up if another nausea wave comes before I can stand up 😭#I had too much cereal and a lot of water at once and like. yuck yuck yuck I feel yucky high on the floor yucky I wish I was normal I need to#back off of weed a little to become a real person but also. I’d rather dig my own grave and bury myself in it alive than work a real job#like. fuckkkkkk I want to cry. fuck retail fuck fuck fuck I’m a failure wahhhhhhh I cant even handle beginner jobs#rattling the bars of my cage screaming crying throwing up why am I alive waahhhhhh okay nvm that’s too far it’s not that bad I’m chilling#the toilet is clean! look at the bright side. my therapist when I talked about like my mom maybe wanting to set a goal for working like a#certain amount of doordash hours and my therapists number she came up with was three hours and I was so happy like. she gets it. I am#exhausted just existing and she was like hmm you should work three hours a week. like. at most.#love her so much. it was probably a mistake but also. keeping it in my brain forever#imagine a three hour work week being backed up by my therapist to my mom like haha my therapist said I only HAVE to do three hours#god three hours still feels like a lot rn#like two weeks ago I dropped a salad in a tight packed restaurant and everyone watched me drop it and then walk back to the kitchen and wait#for them to make a salad so I could leave and fucking deliver the food and it was so embarassing and I haven’t done a single order since#then bc I get so anxious that I just exit the app if I don’t get an order like immediately which I haven’t yet so no orders.#I just get high. too high. and admire my cleaning work. it’s nice. I have to do the bathroom floor still. dog hair. dust. brother beard hair#my hair and bleach specks. I need to clean the bathroom fr. I’m excited I’m redecorating the bathroom in my mind and it’s giving me#motivation to clean it and I want to work more dooordash shifts (when I’m not this high) to save moneys to update my room and the bathroom#a little before the summer. just. replace air matress bc it’s low key a trigger now. so that’s fun. so buy a futon or smthing. and update#the bathroom into a thing that I like in my extra Milo type way. while making room for three ppl to share one bathroom. bc. it’s small#small bathroom for sure. but I’ll get it lookin good. add some cute decorations. maybe a candle or two. an incense thing for when I tak bath#slay. slay. building my dream bathroom in my mind and also. my Amazon wishlist land. and Pinterest land. I love making lists of things.
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I was already on a hair trigger today trying not to snap at a mutual for reblogging a "fuck authors who use Amazon" post, but, like, this shit is why some authors can only afford to use Amazon.
They don't have the $75+ to distribute through Ingram Spark. They don't have the $25 it takes to change your files if you need to update them after they've been accepted. They can't afford to take the cost of printing hit to their sales. They can't afford to lose an additional 40% of their income to retailer discounts.
And just so we're clear, Ingram isn't a vanity publisher. They're one of the largest print monopolies in the world. They're used by most mainstream traditional publishers and indie and self-pub authors alike. Amazon uses them when their print demand is too high.
My friend, whose work is published by Gollancz, is printed through Ingram, the same as mine. The difference is their publisher takes the hit for them. In theory. We won't get into dwindling advances here or how publishers are increasingly putting the onus of marketing and sales onto their authors or the fact that their editors can't afford rent or food while the executives get richer and richer.
So what do you do when the mainstream doesn't want you? What do you do when you're told if you can't keep up with the rat race, that you don't deserve to have your work published? What do you do if all you have is the ability to tell stories for a living, and no one wants you?
Well, you could die of starvation. I'm sure there are several people on here who'd be happy if that happened to me. (I know. Because they tell me. Often.) Or, you can shake hands with the devil, knowing it's a bum deal, knowing everything is fucked, but also knowing that every other aspect of this fucking industry is just as fucking bad.
There's no escape. It's relentless.
And you've got people out there posting things like, "Actually, I think authors who charge for their books are part of the problem."
And yeah, in an ideal world, I'd be making art for art's sake.
But we're not in that world. We're in the bad place, and you're actively making it worse. You're encouraging people to steal from people who are struggling just like you and calling it activism against billionaires or putting them in the same moral category as said billionaires as though we're not trapped in this system, same as you. Some of you are fellow fucking authors. And, like, my mind boggles at what it would take to stab a fellow creative in the back like that, but here we are.
Hell world.
#long post#vent post#publishing#author stuff I get#anyone clowning on this post gets put in the wood chipper
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Spellbound
you might be void of feelings i fear i haven’t felt for anyone
synopsis// by no means did you hate soulmates, you just hated that he was your soulmate. not like megumi was ecstatic that he was your soulmate either. but that’s fine, both of you found someone else to keep you company.
status// finished!
updates// everyday unless said otherwise
warning// dating app!au, soulmate!au, college!au, no curses!au, enemies(?) to lovers, profanity, megumi and y/n are edgy pieces of shit <3, kys jokes, crack humor? i’m going back to my cringe 2020 smau roots with reaction images id say i’m sorry but i’m not, if any characters or dynamics r ooc take that up with the universe not me !!
☆ this smau wasn’t inspired by a song but the title was!! ‘twas inspired by spell strike by provoker, so besides the title and lyrics on here the song holds little to no relevance :) ☆
you might be the only one
might be the only one for me
feeling 1. young and stupid
feeling 2. child of divorce
feeling 3. no schedule just vibes
feeling 4. six feet under
feeling 5. this is my fight song
feeling 6. success rate
feeling 7. lone wolf
feeling 8. dumpster fire
feeling 9. retail therapy
feeling 10. be normal
feeling 11. the enemy has been defeated
feeling 12. enemies to lovers irl
feeling 13. exorcism
feeling 14. shut ur up
feeling 15. winner
feeling 16. hip hip hooray
feeling 17. swiped right!
feeling 18. silly little mystery
feeling 19. for no reason
feeling 20. i guess so
feeling 21. sigh of relief
feeling 22. relationship territory
feeling 23. don’t hmu
feeling 24. major in loser
feeling 25. fight club
feeling 26. jigsaw
feeling 27. ghosting
feeling 28. cold shoulder
feeling 29. before marriage
feeling 30. meant to be
feeling 31. a hunch
feeling 32. survival of the fittest
feeling 33. he knows
feeling 34. so close yet so far
feeling 35. (disrespectfully)
feeling 36. regressing
feeling 37. take pity
feeling 38. telepathy
feeling 39. betrayed
feeling 40. two birds with one stone
feeling 41. dead end
feeling 42. mass hysteria
feeling 43. an apology
feeling 44. baby’s first reciprocated love
feeling 45. psychological warfare
feeling 46. jealous
feeling 47. a facade
feeling 48. learning to coexist
feeling 49. with you
feeling 50. useless E information
feeling 51. good idea
feeling 52. break the peace
feeling 53. enjoy the peace
feeling 54. revenge
feeling 55. tolerable
feeling 56. catastrophic
feeling 57. fumbled
feeling 58. easier than you think
feeling 59. no downtime
feeling 60. caught red handed
feeling 61. for good
feeling 62. replace megumi with megumi
feeling 63. delicate
feeling 64. best bet
feeling 65. valid question
feeling 66. devils incarnate
feeling 67. patience is a virtue
feeling 68. grow and change as a person
feeling 69. megumi truthers
feeling 70. knock on wood
feeling 71. come find me
feeling 72. cryptic
feeling 73. more than aware
feeling 74. see the future
feeling 75. trying to be nice
feeling 76. why do you hate me
feeling 77. knight in shining armor
feeling 78. perfect paradox
feeling 79. idgaf war
feeling 80. stay like this forever
feeling 81. baby bird
feeling 82. found your way back
feeling 83. heart racing
feeling 84. loverboy activities
feeling 85. megumi this megumi that
feeling 86. protect you
feeling 87. flirt back
feeling 88. wingmen
feeling 89. in love with megumi allegations
feeling 90. more broken
feeling 91. gets shirtless again
feeling 92. 1 new message!
feeling 93. protecting your peace
feeling 94. tired of waiting
last feeling. a kiss and a fight
epilogue/bonus feeling. spy
#smau#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smau#jujutsu kaisen smau#jjk texts#jujutsu kaisen texts#jujutsu kaisen text posts#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#megumi smau#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi fushiguro smau#megumi fluff#bimbos jjk smaus#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic
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That Xiran Jay Zhao video about the amount of time it takes to get paid by the publisher, a couple of time she says "that's just the way it is." Are there actual, legitimate business reasons for holding off paying someone 6 or 8 or more months what they've earned for their book? Or is it the publisher basically going "We'll pay you when we pay you. What are you gonna do about it?" because they're essentially the one in charge?
And is it the same for all authors? Or is there an unofficial "tier" system based on your name? Are they telling people like Stephen King or James Patterson or Neil Gaiman "you'll see your money in 8 months" or are they more likely to be getting monthly checks just because of who they are?
There are some legitimate business reasons, yes.
Okay, so let's look at the way a book is sold to a publisher. I'm going to use very round numbers, because I don't want to do a lot of math right now. So say I sell a book for $15,000 under the traditional three installment contract--signing, delivery/acceptance, and publication. What this means is I sign the contract, I get a $5,000 check! Yay! I will also get checks when the book is turned in and accepted, emphasis because it means I can't just give them a word jumble and claim I turned the book in, and then again when the book comes out. We're ignoring side situations like "book is never turned in" and "book is never published."
But wait! My agent gets 15% off the top of each of those checks, which isn't a whole lot at $5,000--$750--but means I'm receiving effectively a $4,250 check, and then waiting maybe a year for the next one.
In the US, 1/3rd of that check goes automatically to taxes, and I cannot math that very well, but it's about $1,416. So I'm left with $2,834 as my payment for the year. This is why most authors will have day jobs.
This structure makes sense. They pay you to call dibs on your book: they pay you when the dibs pan out: they pay you when they can start making money. Now, recently, some publishers have started going to a four stage advance payment, and I can't see any real justification for that. Maybe someone will give me one. I'd be fascinated to know what it is.
So here's the thing: until the book is out, there is no more money. You've been paid for the book, but it's not making money for the publisher yet, and so of course you're not getting more money. It used to be the expectation that your advance would pay your bills while you wrote the next book; that is clearly no longer the case. I live in Seattle. A single check from a three-stage advance isn't paying my mortgage for a month. But.
Once the book is out, it can start making money, and that's when things get complicated. Say a bookstore places an order for 10 copies of AWESOME NEW BESTSELLER. Yay! That should be ten sales, and ten units of whatever your royalty is, right? Only these are physical items, and bookstores can return them, so your publisher marks it down as "ten sales, five reserve against returns," meaning you're only getting credit for five sales until the return window (usually a year) runs out. Where it gets a little hinky is when the bookstore sells all ten and orders ten more, and the publisher still has it marked as "five (now ten) reserve against returns." Basically, you're only getting credit for half your sales until that reserve window closes.
Sadly, thanks to certain retailer policies, this has been grandfathered into applying to electronic sales as well.
TL,DR: The delay in royalty payments is to give bookstores time to sell the books, and mean that your publisher doesn't pay you for a hundred sales, only to ask for the money from fifty to be given back when books are returned. This could happen faster in the modern world, but that would involve publishers paying us faster, and they like to keep the money in their hands as long as possible.
To the best of my knowledge, no one is A Big Enough Author that they can demand their money now, right now. And this is why trad publishing continues to self-select for the wealthy and the young.
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Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {3}
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris
Summary: It's Charles birthday and you have to find the perfect gift.
Warnings: 18+ only, allusions to smut, alcohol
WC: 2.3k
F1 Masterlist
NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three
NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four
Charles’ Birthday Week 2022
“I need you to steal something for me.”
Lando blinked twice as he tried to compute your words before giving up. “What?”
Despite hearing the shower still running, cupped your hand around his ear and whispered, “I need you to go to Charles’ apartment and steal a race suit. It’s for his birthday and I’m running out of time. Please?”
He perked up knowing you weren’t going to actually get him arrested and started to get a little excited as he nodded. “Okay, but you have to keep him distracted so I can borrow his keys.”
“You’re not even going to ask what I’m doing?”
“No, I want to be surprised too.” Lando grinned and kissed your nose before getting out of bed and dressing in record time to leave.
You had spent a long time wondering what to get Charles for a birthday gift when he could literally afford to buy everything he wanted. It had only been when an old video began circulating online a few days ago that the idea sparked to life. You just hoped Lando remembered to disable the alarm.
“Where’s Lan?” Charles asked when he found you alone in bed.
For a moment you were struck by how good he looked with just a towel slung around his hips and water running down his chest. “He had to pop out, shouldn’t be too long.”
Charles smirked as he climbed onto the bed, the towel falling away as it got caught on the bedpost. “That’s a shame,” he chuckled, caging you beneath him as droplets of cold water fell onto your skin. “He can join in when he gets back.”
Your lips parted to meet his but before they could touch an alarm sounded on Charles’ phone and he pulled back with a frown. “That’s my home security…” He reached for the phone and you snatched it from him before he could open the live video feed and see what Lando was taking. “What are you doing?”
“It’s just Lando,” you admitted as you buried the phone under your pillow. “I sent him on an errand to your place so we could have some alone time.”
“Why would you do that?” Concern contorted Charles face as he sat up and pulled the sheet around his body. “Is this not working for you?”
“No, no, shit, it’s not like that. I love what we have.” The lie didn’t make him relax like you were hoping and your stomach knotted with the need to erase the look from his face. “I love you, and Lando.”
“Moi aussi,” he replied but he still kept his distance as he tried to understand. “Do you want to spend time one-on-one, is that it? I should have offered…”
“Charles, please, shut up,” you groaned as your head fell into your hands. “I don’t want that, I always want us to be together. When we are together I feel like I finally know where I belong, like I have a proper family, and I really wanted to do something special for your birthday to thank you for giving me that and now the surprise is ruined.”
The sheet slipped from his fingers as he reached for your hands and pulled them away from your face. “My birthday?”
“Since I have to share you with everyone else for your party I thought I could give you a present early but I needed Lando to help. Now it’s not a surprise.”
“I still don’t know what it is, so that’s a surprise,” he reminded softly.
You sighed and gave him a small nod. “I guess that’s the most important part. But the suspense is gone.”
“I think I can help with that,” he smirked and reached under the pillow to grab his phone before calling Lando on speakerphone. “Mon cher, where are you?”
“Well, uh, you see, we…needed milk,” Lando lied weakly before you heard the bell of the convenience store door in the retail shops downstairs before Monsieur Verne greeted him like an old friend.
“Oh, I thought, nevermind. I should call the police, I think someone has broken into my apartment.”
You clapped a hand over your mouth before you could laugh but a small choked sound broke through at Charles' growing amusement.
“Fuck, okay it was me, please don’t call the cops,” Lando admitted as the elevator pinged and you heard his panicked voice repeat the request before the line cut out as it always did on the ride to the top.
“You are so mean!” you gasped but it ended in laughter as Charles tossed his phone to the side table.
“He lied to me,” Charles chuckled with a shrug and you both turned at the sound of the front door slamming shut and feet sprinting through the house.
“I don’t think that can really count as a lie,” you teased before Lando filled the doorway, a bottle of milk in his hands even though there was a new bottle in the fridge. “Hi baby.”
“Please don’t call the cops,” he pleaded as he climbed onto the bed. “I forgot the passcode again.”
“No shit,” you giggled as you combed his hair out of his face and he relaxed enough to see the glint of mischief in Charles’ eyes. “He’s fucking with you.”
You took the bottle from his hands as Charles reached for him, tugging him against his body before taking his breath away with a heated kiss that left Lando in a daze. “No more lying,” Charles warned as he nipped at Lando’s bottom lip just hard enough to make him whimper.
Raising your hand, he turned his attention to you and the small smirk tipping up your lips. “Yes, amour?”
You bit your lip and eyed the flushes on their cheeks, wanting that heat for yourself. “I lied too.”
Your fingertips hurt and you remembered just how much you hated sewing when you were younger. You thought needlework would be like riding a bicycle and it took a few stabs to prove right as you looked at the final product with satisfaction. Just in time too.
The big celebration was set to start in a few hours but you and Lando were going to meet Charles at his house to get ready for his birthday party together. He had spent the afternoon at his mother’s with his brothers and it was times like this that you wished the relationship could be made known. Then you wouldn’t have to miss sharing these moments with him and his family.
Next month would be the same with Lando’s birthday.
“Spitz, baby, ready to go?” Lando had been serious about wanting to be surprised and had kept out of the office which was filled with your computer desk and sim-setup.
“Ready!” You grabbed the bright red gift box and folded Charles’ race suit up before carefully placing it in and sealing it up with a big bow. “What did you get him?”
“Another bottle of Tom Ford.”
“Nice,” you grinned. It was certainly a favourite for all of you and Charles knew it since he wore it more than any of the other bottles he owned, depleting the bottle quite a bit in the last few months.
Lando carried the box for you, balancing his smaller one on top, and grabbing the keys for your Mercedes Maybach that was parked in the garage next to his Fiat Jolly. The heavy tinting that your car could provide was definitely needed since it was going to be impossible to keep your hands to yourself. Lando hadn’t even changed into his clubbing clothes and he looked mouthwatering, it was only going to get harder for you when he and Charles were dressed up in their finest.
It seemed like all of Monte Carlo had taken to the streets for their Saturday night and it was gridlocked. The minutes ticked away and you ground your teeth as you debated parking and making the rest of the short journey on foot to Charles apartment.
“We’re going to be late if this doesn’t start moving,” you grumbled and Lando reached across the driver’s seat to squeeze your thigh.
“Relax, Spitfire, it’s not race day.”
“Not helping, Norris. I’m not good with going slow.”
His warm laugh filled the car and his hand ran dangerously high up your thigh. “Don’t I know it.”
There was hardly any time to get dressed when you finally arrived at Charles’ and you were in such a rush that you completely forgot about the present in your car. It wasn’t until you climbed in the backseat and Charles found it waiting on his seat in the front.
“C’est risqué?” Charles asked as he lifted it up and gently shook it beside his ear, trying to figure out what it was.
You chuckled and leaned through the middle of the seats to fix up a few strands of his hair that had gone amiss. “It’s not a double ended dildo, if that’s what you were thinking.”
“So I can open it with the others?” You were suddenly nervous but gave him a nod because shying away wasn’t in your nature.
The exclusive club was just ahead and you knew it would be a few hours before you would be able to indulge yourself again so you trusted Lando not to crash and half climbed through the seats to kiss Charles.
“Happy almost Birthday.”
Three tables had been pushed together for all the presents the guests had bought but, after Lorenzo and Arthur had carried out a large cake and everyone had sung Happy Birthday, it was your gift he picked up first.
“Is it kinky?” Pierre asked in your ear as he draped an arm over your shoulder. “Personalised, diamanté cock rings?”
“I swear you think about our sex life more than we do,” you teased with a prod to his ribs. Charles scanned the crowd but like magnets his eyes found yours almost instantly and you gave him a smile as he tugged the bow open.
The material shook slightly in his hands and you wondered if maybe you had overstepped the line when he lifted it out of the box. Beside you, Pierre gasped and his arm fell away as Lando slipped in the narrow space.
“I, I, um, saw an interview,” you stammered as you felt the hundreds of eyes on you. Lando placed a comforting hand on the small of your back and you tried to calm your racing heart before continuing. “And you mentioned your grandma and your race suit and I thought you might like…”
Charles ran his hand over the stitching where you had unpicked the Shell logo, replacing it with a cross. “I love it. Thank you.” He slung the racing suit over his shoulder and crossed the floor to pull you into a friendly hug but his words were certainly more as he hid his lips in your hair. “I love you.”
Max found you as the lights dimmed and the party started to get into full swing. Lando had disappeared into the DJ booth while Charles was being pulled every which way by his friends and family wanting a minute of his time.
“That was nice of you, the gift,” Max said after he ordered two gin and tonics. “Kind of weird too.”
“I'm still more normal than you.”
“Debatable, we are equally fucked up,” he argued, passing one of the drinks to you. “Didn’t know you could sew.”
“You learn a whole lot of useful skills when you can’t afford new things,” you murmured into your glass before taking a sip. “It was either darn secondhand, worn and torn race suits or not race at all.”
“Fuck,” Max swore and tipped his glass back to gulp a few mouthfuls down before changing the subject from the reminder of your fathers lack of decency to provide for all his children equally. “What have you been up to? I hardly see you anymore.”
“I see you literally everyday at work.”
“Yeah, but that’s work, it doesn’t count. You haven’t raided my fridge in weeks.”
“I’m maturing, Max Emilian,” you said as you clapped him on the shoulder, “buying my own groceries and potpourri. You should be grateful, not asking me twenty questions.”
You turned away from the bar and grinned at the sight of Lando at the mixing board, a headset over one ear as he bobbed his head to music he was making. The dance floor was full of people from the F1 world but there were still a lot of faces you didn’t recognise and you wondered if Charles would’ve introduced you to them under other circumstances.
“Fine, no more questions if you come to breakfast tomorrow,” Max bartered and you nodded absentmindedly, throwing a thumbs up as you made your way to the dance floor.
You spotted Charles’ white shirt and snuck up behind him to cup your hands over his eyes. Rising up on your tiptoes your lips brushed the shell of his ear and you purred, “Hey, big boy, wanna dance?”
Your hands were torn away and you frowned as Charles turned, but the eyes that met yours weren’t the right shade. “Fuck me, you look like your brother from behind.”
“He went to the bathroom,” Arthur said as he jutted his thumb towards the dark hallway. “Do I even want to know…?”
“Nope, definitely not,” you cut him off. “Just have a few more drinks and forget this happened, yeah?”
“I don’t think I am ever going to forget you calling me, well Char, big boy, Verstappen,” he laughed.
“She’s not a Verstappen, petit frère,” Charles corrected him as he threw his arms around the both of you and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “What did I miss?”
“She called me-”
“Arthur!”
Arthur clamped his mouth shut with a laugh that rocked his shoulders and he wriggled out of his brother's grasp to disappear into the crowd. Charles kept his arm around you as he started dancing along to the music Lando was playing, both of their smiles brightening when their eyes met.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked in your ear.
Your nose wrinkled and you shook your head. “Nothing, just an inchident.”
Click here for part four.
Taglist: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @zendayabelova @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover @formulas-bitch @faithm120601 @ynbutbetter @allabouthappiness @simpingcorner @chasing-liberosis @jspitwall @sociallyinepludi @ru-kru @gillybear17 @topguncultleader @be-your-coffee-pot @sophie-reads-too-much
#charles leclerc x reader x lando norris#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic#f1 rpf#formula one fanfiction#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine
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Post-covid cons have had an influx of attendees who have never been to a con before, and that's great! But I've also seen a rise in some slightly inconsiderate behaviour so I'd like to do a little post on what is generally considered good manners when attending a convention:
1️⃣ Ask before taking photos, whether it's of cosplays, stalls, traders, or merch. It's very rude to approach a table, take a photo of their stock without asking, and leave.
2️⃣ Don't comment on the prices of merchandise at exhibitors' tables. If you think something is too expensive, keep it to yourself; traders need to make money from their art and have likely already priced items fairly. Related, but in general don't make negative or jokey comments about someone's merchandise in front of them. Or at all, honestly.
3️⃣ Don't try to haggle or ask for bulk discounts. Conventions are not farmers' markets or retail stores.
4️⃣ Please try not to take up too much of the exhibitors' time by chatting. It can be really exciting to meet a creator, and a lot of traders are really friendly and enjoy talking to customers, but please remember that this is also a workplace for traders and they need to sell. If an exhibitor excuses themself because there are other customers waiting, this is usually a good point to thank them for their time and say goodbye so they can continue working.
5️⃣ Try to avoid placing anything on the exhibitors' tables, including bags but especially drinks and food. This can at best mess up a display and at worst ruin merchandise, putting exhibitors out of pocket.
6️⃣ If you are waiting to look at one table in particular, be courteous of neighbouring tables. Do not stand in front of other tables because you are queueing or just standing chatting with friends, as you are likely blocking other potential customers from seeing that table.
7️⃣ An extra point raised by @pppondi - feel free to ask to have a look through books and comics, but don't read the entire thing then put it back. That's why they're on sale, so you can read them!
☀️ I really do hope this helps someone! Some of these guidelines might not be obvious but it makes for a better con experience for both you and the exhibitors; traders are less stressed and you get to interact with happier creators. If you have more suggested guidelines for people who are starting to attend cons please feel free to share, but also remember that a lot of shy, anxious, and neurodivergent folk attend cons. I'm trying to be constructive, not just list "weird" behaviour.
#not art#genuinely the majority of exhibitors will know that you dont mean harm by doing any of these things#and usually it is due to excitement or not being aware of what is considered impolite#so dont feel guilty or worried over any of this#it's just good to keep in mind!
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retail hell reader is being bothered by an uncomfortably friendly customer and tf141 handle it in their own ways.
warnings: female!reader (she/her pronouns) isn’t being overtly harassed but you know when a man is being too interested and too friendly? its that. egregious use of scots as inspired by still game, pet names “love”, “hen” and “bonnie girl” used to refer to f!reader.
word count: 1.5k
pairings: kyle garrick x reader, john mactavish x reader, simon riley x reader, john price x reader.
each reader x named character interaction should be read as a standalone but i stuck them all together as they were too short to post individually in my opinion.
- -
this customer is making you nervous as fuck. you don't think you've been inappropriate with him in any way, just polite and friendly as you sorted out his refund. the problem is that he's massive, easily taller than simon by a couple of inches and he keeps looming over you blaming his difficulty understanding english as to why he keeps getting closer and closer. he's practically mounting the customer service desk to peer down at you (and you have a horrible feeling he's trying to get a look down your polo top).
you're beginning to panic so you do the only thing you think to do (which admittedly is pretty stupid looking back on it) and make your excuses to leave the customer service desk to find one of your friends. or at least find a colleague who will act as a witness if this guy gets any creepier.
gaz handles it like a champ. as soon as he spots the creep following you around he's there. arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side at the kitchen consultant's desk. his customer service smile is fixed on his face and he refuses to even acknowledge this giant arsehole of a man, just keeps talking to you softly and shows you the kitchen he’s working on. kyle’s beautiful brown eyes only briefly leave your face so he can point out another favourite part of his design, he never once looks over at the creep. it works to soothe you, especially being so close to him. after ten minutes of being blatantly ignored, the creep walks off muttering under his breath. hopefully he’s left the store but unfortunately it’s around that time that kyle has a couple walk up to him asking him if he’s free for a drop in consultation. before he agrees he checks in with a gentle “you alright if i take this appointment, yeah? come straight back if that guy is still hanging around. i’ll deal with him.” he looks so serious you believe him. you reassure him that you’ll be fine and he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before you separate from his warmth already missing the slightly woody scent of his cologne. before you’re completely out of earshot you hear the couple cooing over how cute kyle was with you and his reply of “well, it’s not exactly hard when she’s one of my favourite colleagues…” and the fondness in his voice makes your cheeks heat up.
-
johnny nearly trips over you as you’re crouched behind the paint desk. “steamin’ jesus, what’re ya daein’ under there hen?” you hush him quickly and silently with a finger raised to your lips. you don’t want to speak because you know the giant is still out there looking for you, you thought you’d given him the slip near the paint brushes but then he’d rounded the end of the aisle so you darted for the relative safety of the paint desk. johnny crouches down next to you and whispers “are we hidin’ from someone? is it simon?” you shake your head and go to answer him but then your blood runs cold as you hear that familiar accented voice. “excuse me? i was wondering if you might help, i’m looking for the fräulein who was helping me?” johnny shoots a look at you and you squish yourself further into the corner of the desk hoping against hope that johnny won’t give you away. thankfully, johnny straightens up from behind the desk with his most charming customer service grin “sorry pal, i’ve no’ seen her. ‘s only me on the desk the day.” the creep sounds nonplussed at johnny’s thick glaswegian accent (you’ve certainly never heard it ramped up like that in all the times you’ve spoken with him) and a little crestfallen when he starts to reply with “oh, perhaps you’d be good enough to -” johnny interrupts him, voice still pitched in a friendly manner but you can hear an undercurrent of tension “naw, sorry pal. i’m busy pitin’ the hems oan the tins. is there anythin’ i can dae fer ye mixin’ wise?” there’s a moment of silence and you watch johnny’s smile slowly slip off his face, his lips thinning into a stern line. “ah, um. no thank you. perhaps she will find me.” the creep sounds a little nervous now if the uncomfortable laugh he lets out is any indication. “aye right. well i’d best be lettin’ you get oan then eh?” johnny shifts on his feet slightly so his calf brushes up against your arm. after another tense moment you hear the lumbering footsteps of the giant move away from the desk. johnny looks down at you with a mischievous grin, “i’ve got to say bonnie girl, you look a right sight down there.” you only feel a little bit bad when you punch him lightly in the leg and he yelps in shock as the blush on your cheeks spreads down your neck.
-
simon is less than impressed when you duck under the chain across the warehouse doors and flatten yourself against the noticeboard out of view from the shop floor. “you stupid? chains up which means the forklift is out so you need to be too.” he’s pissed off and thinking about how much paperwork he’ll have to fill out now because you didn’t bother to think about the cameras in your dash for safety. he takes a big step towards you before swerving off to the side to block the customer that has just appeared at the chain. “the fuck do you want?” he practically snarls. ‘this isn’t the fucking caff.” simon squares his shoulders and glares at the oversized dickhead that’s wasting his time. “well? can’t you fuckin’ read? staff access only. and you’re not staff so fuck off.” simon barks at the man, not letting him get a word in edgewise to start bitching about stock or whatever it is that he wants. simon couldn’t give a shit, he just wants the customer (and you) to fuck off promptly so he can start moving pallettes around. the customer just blinks and takes several steps back before turning away. you let out a shaky sigh and thank simon quietly. simon hums in acknowledgement and sweeps a critical eye down your lightly trembling form. “he botherin’ ya?” at your nod he hums again before jerking his head towards the back of the warehouse “go put a hi-vis on and sit in the office, i’ll come get you when i’m done on the ‘lift.”. when simon comes back into the office two paper cups of tea in hand thirty minutes later, you offer him a small smile and catch his lips twitch up briefly before he turns away to plunk his cup down on top of a cluttered filing cabinet.
-
price practically walks into you as you come flying around the end of the plumbing aisle. it’s unusual to see you so far away from the customer service desk and looking so flustered. “alright, love?” his hand is on your elbow as he asks. you crane your neck round to look behind you, too worried about that customer to enjoy his large warm hand on your bare skin. price straightens up and drops his hand away from you when he spots a customer behind you, in his opinion the customer is moving a little too fast to be considered casual. price bristles slightly when he catches the dark look on the gentleman’s face. oh no, he doesn’t like the look of this one at all. especially when you look at price and mouth “help” quickly. price steps forward and puts you at his back, blocking the creep from getting any closer. “can i help you, mate?” his gruff voice is just shy of sounding friendly and you watch his back muscles shift under the black polo top he’s wearing. “no thank you, i wanted to speak with the little woman some more.” god the customer is weird, you shudder a little at being referred to as a “little woman”. price shifts to block the customer’s view of you more fully as he does you notice the back of price’s neck has gone a little red. “not possible. i need her for a job.” price’s words sound like they’re being ground out through gritted teeth in response. “i’m sure simon would be more than willing to help you.” you jolt a little when you spot simon at the customer’s shoulder. a man shouldn’t be able to move so silently in steel toed safety boots. you catch a brief wince flicker across the customer’s face when simon’s hand comes down on his shoulder, slightly too hard to be entirely polite. “ah, um, yes. perhaps that’s for the best.” simon leads the customer away and you step up beside price to thank him. he looks deadly serious when he turns to face you “any time love.” his stern blue stare softens slightly and you’re sure you catch his gaze flicker to your mouth briefly before he clears his throat and turns away “c’mon then. back to the returns desk with you.”.
- -
AN: i have very much hidden from customers in the warehouse and behind the paint desk at B&Q. don’t be like reader (or me) and hide in the goods-in area, you will get shouted at for it.
translation for johnny’s scots:
“pitin’ the hems oan” = putting the hems on, meaning to put something in order or to restrain something/someone.
#retail hell au#kyle garrick x reader#john mactavish x reader#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#f!reader#female reader#kg#jm#sr#jp#also i'm not saying that the creepy customer is that giant austrian cod guy but i'm not saying that he isn't *wink wonk*#everyone say thank you to early for bringing back my love of retail hell au
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The art of having kids
Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley
Requested by: @jelloangela
Request gist: “Overstimulation and breeding with the Weasley twins”
A/N: Thanks for the request! When it comes to the twins, magic must be real cause I'm under some sort of horny spell lol. I don't know why this one took me so long, writer's block has me in a choke hold.
T/W: Breeding, Overstimulation, Praise, sweet nicknames (I went for one's different than usual), a teeny bit of nipple play (thought I’d add a warning anyway), no aftercare
The day had been such a drag at the joke shop. Normal customers looking at the same old stock. The twins had been at the till all day just people watching. At around 4pm, a couple came in with a small boy. The boy looked so excited by all the colours and noises that the shop provided. He was giggling and touching everything in his reach. His parents trailed behind him, putting everything back in its designated place.
Normally, customers touching things and putting them down would be one of the worst things a retail worker could come across, but this kid was so adorable. After the small family had left, the twins turned to each other. The shared look only meant one thing, you were in for a rough night.
____________________________________________
You had been upstairs in the flat above the shop preparing dinner for when the twins locked up. At first when you hear them running up the stairs, you thought something bad was happening, like a fire or a howler from Mrs Weasley.
The twins practically burst through the door and pulled you out of the kitchen, directing you towards the bedroom before you could even ask questions. Fred was in front of you pulling you by yours hands while George was behind you pushing you with eager hands on your waist. They often got like this, where they’d just ambush you and start tugging at whatever you were wearing.
Fred sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs while George trapped you there with his slim body. Fred tugged your jeans down along with your underwear, George pulled your blouse up. Both twins worked towards the same thing, getting you as bare as possible, as quick as possible.
When they achieved their goal of getting you naked, they both watched you the same way a hungry owl would watch a lost baby bunny, just waiting to strike with sharp talons. Fred stood up, pushing you onto the bed in his place. The boys stripped off their suits until they both stood before you in their underwear.
“Isn’t our girl so pretty and perfect, Georgie? She’s gonna make an amazing mother”
Fred’s words caught you off guard a little, but didn't put you off. George sat next to you and tutted at his brother.
“Freddie, you’re gonna scare our pretty girl away. How does it sound, angel? Being a pretty mummy for our babies? We’ll keep you so full of our cum until it takes, until you become so round and swollen. Just think of how perfect you’d look with a swollen tummy all because of us”.
George always had a way of talking you into kinky situations. Fred has always been the one to jump at the chance to try a new kink, whereas George would sit you down and discuss it first. He’d give you those puppy dog eyes that only he could and you’d be nodding, eager to try it. And nothing changed this time around.
You nodded, giving the boys the green light to do whatever they pleased. George's lips connected with your neck while Fred snaked his hands to your thighs, pulling your legs around his hips. Fred moved his tip up and down your slit, bumping it against your clit in an effort to get you wetter. George left marks along the skin of your neck while his hand made its way to rub over your nipples, which were slowly hardening beneath his rough fingers.
When Fred felt you were wet enough, he pushed in. Even when he was balls deep, he didn't stop to let you adjust. Fred had always claimed that you never needed to adjust, because they fucked you on a daily basis.
His thrusts were slow but deep, wanting to keep as much on his cock buried inside of you as he could. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. George's lips moved along your neck and up to your ear.
“Does he feel good, baby? You like having him deep in that little pussy? I bet you do. We’re gonna take care of you. Can’t have the mother of our children lifting a finger, now can we?”
The thought of the twins getting you pregnant caused a moan to slip past your lips. Both boys knew that they had won you over. They'd keep you bed bound until there was a positive pregnancy test if they had to. Fred’s thrusts slowly got quicker, while his hand moved to rub at your clit. He always did that when he got the chance to fuck you, loving the way your walls squeezed around him.
Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, his breath coming out in groans.
“You wanna cum, pretty baby? Get my cock all nice and wet and I’ll fuck a baby into you”
His fingers got quicker circling your clit, and then it hit you. Your walls squeezed Freds cock as you came. George kept his hand busy with your tits while whispering sweet words in your ear. But Fred didn’t slow down. His thrusts stayed the same rhythm, which eventually led to your moans turning to whines and your legs trying to close around his waist to stop the onslaught of pleasure. Fred held your thighs apart, while George directed your attention onto him with his voice.
“Sweet girl, if you want Freddie to fill you up, you need to stay still. Don't want him to pull out, do you?”
Although the pain was intertwined with the pleasure, you still shook your head at the very thought of him pulling out. Fred kept going, slowly bringing you to the brink again. All it took was another orgasm from you to make his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock pulse. With a low groan, he buried himself deep within your pussy, making sure every last drop of his cum would stay inside of you where it belonged. After catching his breath, he turned to George.
“Get up here, it’s gonna all leak out when I pull out”
George got up from his place next to you to stand beside his brother. As soon as Fred pulled out, George pushed in. Fred sat next to you, trying to gently shush the whimper that threatened to escape your lips. George slowly built up to a quick pace, his eyebrows furrowing at Fred who was rubbing your clit.
“Fred, she can't handle more. I bet in this state, she couldn't even tell us apart”.
George was always the caregiver. While Fred insisted that you could take more, always drawing another orgasm from you, George was the one who would be reluctant to push you. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing you in such a blissed out state or didn't think you could handle an orgasm or two, he didn’t like those little pouts and whimpers when the pleasure morphed with pain.
“Oh come on Georgie, our girl can handle it. She’s not made of glass, she can take it. Can’t you, sweets?”
Even after a couple of orgasms, you weren’t completely in subspace. You nodded at George, hoping to ease his worries.
“Please Georgie, I can take it. I want you to fill me up. Please Georgie?”
How could George ever say no to you?
His thrusts got rougher, desperate to give you what you asked. That building pleasure was quick to release, giving you your third orgasm of the night. George kept thrusting, although somewhat reluctantly. When he felt his own orgasm approaching, his thrusts got more manic. Soon, his cum spurted inside of you, mixing with both your own juices and Fred cum. George slowly pulled out, while Fred picked your underwear up and slipped in back up your legs. He was determined to keep it all inside you.
Even if it didn't take the first time, you could always try again the next night.
#george weasley#george weasley fic#fred weasley#george weasley x fem#george weasley x y/n#george weasley x you#fred weasley smut#fred weasley fic#fred weasley x fem!reader#fred weasley x you#weasley twins smut#weasley twins#george wealsey x reader#george weasely smut#george weasly x reader#fred wealsey fic#fred weasely x y/n#george weasley smut#fred weasly x reader#fred weasley headcanons#george weasley headcanon#george wealsey imagine
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bookstore // bf!chris
summary: when you're having a shitty week, your bf, chris, takes you bookshopping for some retail therapy
The past week has been complete fucking hell, and the worst part, is that I don’t even know why.
It feels like the world has been against me in every way, piling the most ridiculous things on top of me like I’m laughing stock, being used for someone else’s entertainment.
It’s not fucking funny.
I have fully accepted defeat at this point, keeping myself secure in my room until it is deemed safe to leave.
My boyfriend, Chris, has been adamant on me going about my days like nothing is affecting me. As supportive as he is, and as much as I love him, I sometimes wish he would just let me wallow in peace and feel sorry for myself. That’s just not how he is though.
“There you areee,” he sings as he comes into my bedroom with a hand behind his back.
I peek up over the blankets swarming me, trying to look around him and see what he is hiding from me. “What’s that?”
He grins. “Get out of bed and I’ll show you.”
I groan and lay back down, pulling the blankets back up.
Chris lets out a sigh and says, “Fine… I guess I’ll just have to drink this iced brown sugar oat milk chai tea latte myself…”
Damn it.
“Wait.”
I can picture the smile on his face. “Yes?”
“Leave the drink,” I command.
He tsks. “Come to the living room and you can have it.”
He wins this time.
I pull myself out of the comfort of my bed and drag myself to the living room. He sets the drink down on the table and waits for me to retrieve it, and when I do, he says, “We’re getting you out of your bed today.”
“And how do you plan on achieving that?” I ask over the lid of my latte.
“By taking you to the bookstore.”
My eyes nearly fall out of their sockets.
Chris hates going book shopping with me. While he often praises me for my interest, saying it’s adorable and that he can’t help but stare at me while my expressions change throughout the book I’m indulging in, he cannot stand going shopping with me. What turns into a basic trip to pick up one or two books turns into a three hour excursion with handfuls of books being carried out, and hundreds of dollars drained from my account.
“You’re kidding.” I know better than to take him seriously in this situation.
“The opposite,” he surprises me. “I don’t want to worry about how you’re feeling, so we’re going to do some retail therapy with books. Plus, I don’t know when you’ve eaten, so we’re gonna get some lunch too. My treat.”
My cheeks blush at the idea of Chris wanting to shower me in his love today. He loves taking me to get something to eat, spending his money on me whether it’s a $10 chick-fil-a meal or a fancy steak dinner. While some boyfriends send their partner money to get their nails done, mine sends me some every so often to treat me to books.
I always insist that he doesn’t need to, but Chris fights back every time, saying he has more money than he knows what to do with, and that I deserve to be spoiled, especially by him.
I used to fight him on it, but I know better than to do that now. It always ends in a stupid fight, and I know he is doing this out of love, so the last thing I want is to turn into something negative.
“Okay,” I give in, heading back to my room to change.
“I knew that would get you!”
–
Chris’ arms are full with books that I have accumulated since walking into the store. He sets them down every few minutes to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles, and I can tell he’s biting his tongue to keep from complaining.
He watches me and nods along as I explain every book that I look at. He seemed interested in the first few, but as the list grew, I can tell he’s forcing himself to pay attention.
Feeling guilty that he isn’t enjoying his time and he is sucking it up just for me, I say, “Okay, let’s get out of here soon so your arms don’t fall off.”
“Baby, it’s fine,” he assures me. “I’ll buy a bag if I have to. Keep doing your thing. I can go look at something else in the store that interests me while you shop, but don’t feel like you need to cut your time short for me. The whole reason we are here is to cheer you up.”
“I don’t want to spend all your money.”
“You aren’t,” he insists for the thousandth time. “And if you keep yourself from getting books because you feel bad, I’m going to come back and buy them for you anyway, so you may as well get them now.”
There’s no way around him.
Another 20 minutes passes, and at this point, my body is starting to give out, so I can’t imagine how Chris is feeling after lugging books around. “How many do you have?” I ask, looking back at my boyfriend who struggles to keep up as we head to the checkout line.
“Twelve,” he says, sighing as he sets them on the counter to be scanned. I add two more to the top of the pile. “This is insane, you know that right?”
“You were the one who said ‘I insist! My treat!’”
He rolls his eyes, laughing as he swipes his card. “Yeah, yeah.”
–
The rest of the day is spent with me organizing my bookshelves, scanning the backs of each book to decide what to read while Chris orders takeout. It only seemed right that we ate something at home since he continued to let me know how exhausted he was after shopping.
I practically inhaled my meal just so I could start reading one of my new books, sitting right next to Chris on the couch, who was still dissecting his food.
Every so often, I can feel Chris staring at me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
He sets his plate down on the TV tray in front of him, then looks back at me. “I always know something good is happening in the book when you scrunch your nose. It’s cute.”
I cover my face with my book, now embarrassed at my outward reactions when I read, something I had no clue I even did.
“Noooooo, don’t hide,” he says, pulling the book down so he can see me again.
He moves to sit closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder as he stares down at the pages with me, placing soft kisses on my cheek every so often before letting himself become just as invested in the story as I do.
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader
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tangled tinsel |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|
prompt: a decoration mishap turns into an oddly festive idea. or eddie just likes to tie you up with pretty things and this one happens to be festive.
apart of my twelve days of dom!eddie masterlist which is located in my munny's merriest masterlist with all the other holiday works :)
contains: 18+ minors dni. dom/sub themes. restraints. blindfolds. toys (vibrators). not too mean this time, eddie's more of a soft dom and just a little teasing lol.
“Son of a fuckin’ bitch- Can you pick this shit up?” Eddie huffed, a heavy handed snatch yanking down the silvery tinsel that strung across the doorway, wrapping around his forehead for the final time.
“Don’t!” You hiss, tongue clicking in annoyance at him. “Why would you do that?” You rolled your eyes, unamused by his childish outbursts.
“Because I hit this shit every time I walk through the door!” Eddie snapped, the tinsel in his clutches, waving it around furiously.
“Well, pay attention!” You snap back, snatching your cheap, plastic, metallic strung tinsel out of his hands. “You should know it's there. Quit messing all my shit up. You’re just being an asshole now, Eddie, and I’m really over it.”
“I’m an asshole?” Eddie gaped, the ghosting of a scoff filling his tone. “I’m an asshole-”
“-Yeah, you are.” You bark, hooking the tinsel over the small command hook on the wall. “You know it’s there-”
“-You know it’s too fuckin’ low-”
“-Then you fix it.” You throw your arms up. “You can fucking fix it!”
“I didn’t even want it up, and now I gotta fix it?” Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That shit is itchy. I don’t want to touch that. I don’t like having to touch it when it falls in my face, gets all that shiny stuff in my hair. Just move it.”
You rolled your eyes, snorting lightly in mocking amusement. “God, you’re such a baby.” You shake your head. “It’s so itchy, oh no, I can’t touch it!” You shrill in a mocking, obnoxious tone- one you knew made him furious.
“Hey, watch it.” Eddie snapped, a finger pointed your way. “Keep running that mouth, baby, and you’re gonna piss me off.”
“Well, you’ve already pissed me off.” You huff, unfazed by his threat. Slipper clad stomps, muted on the shaggy carpet of the living room, and you fell into the couch, arms crossed. You knew you probably looked petulant, pinched brows furrowed in a frown, nose curling into a snarl.
Eddie stood in the doorway, still, watching you. The tenseness of your shoulders, fury filled huffs that made him wince. He didn’t mean to lash out, he knew you had a hard week. The joys of holiday retail and all their not so very merry goers had left you in a foul mood all week.
You could hear him sigh from behind you, the rustling of the tinsel coming off the hook, readjusting it slowly. “Hey,” Eddie called, voice still commanding but looser. “Look at me, honey.”
A slow roll of your head, nearly bored, and your eyes were on him, still fixed in a narrowed glare. “‘M sorry.” Eddie muttered softly, walking towards you. A calloused hand, warm from the heat of the trailer cupped your cheek gently, thumb swiping over the apples of your cheeks. You turned into his hold, melting in front of him. “I didn’t mean anything by it, alright? I’m just… yeah.”
You nodded, hand sliding up his writs gently. Eddie’s heart leapt. “I know.” You nuzzled further into his touch, lips brushing the palm of his hand gently. “I don’t mean to be a bitch-”
“-You’re not a bitch-”
“-I’m just overwhelmed.” You sighed.
“Thought this was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, hm?” Eddie’s heart ached when you didn’t even grin, just sad eyes that downcasted towards the couch.
There was a pause, filled with the hum of the heater harmonizing with the purr of the washer running. “You wanna fuck around?” Eddie’s head tilted down towards you, pinching your flushed cheek lightly, enough to get the small smile he was craving out of you.
“Yeah,” Your eyes sparkled when they lit up at his, rounded so sweetly already, Eddie thought his knees might give out. “But I don’t want to play mean, Ed.”
“We don’t have to play at all if you don’t want to.” Eddie hummed, thumb grazing the soft skin of your cheek, playfully pressing into your nose.
“No, I want to.” You frowned, Eddie’s thumb smoothing over the crease between your brow. “But I don’t want you to spank me.”
“I was thinking I’d tie you up.” Eddie growled, leaning forward so he hovered over you, curly strands framing his face. “Maybe blindfold you. Bring out your toys.”
Your tummy flipped with heat, thighs pressing together, squirming in his touch. “Yeah.” You nodded. “But not too much teasing. I’m tired, Ed, I won’t last if you mess with me too long.”
“I won’t do it for too long.” Eddie nodded, grinning sweetly. “You wanna go wait for me in the room? Just on the bed, baby, no kneeling tonight. Just grab your blindfold.”
“Which cuffs?” You stood, moving towards the doorway, the one Eddie had just fixed.
His eyes lingered over the tinsel for just a second, a beat too long. “I got them.” Eddie’s tongue ran over his teeth, swallowing his smile. “I’ll get it.”
“Is that too tight?” Eddie asked, finger wiggling between you and the crinkling tinsel, seeing if he could slip a finger through. He was always worried, since the one time you played, early in the relationship, and he tied your hands too tight. Your fingers and palms went numb, neither one of you knew better but Eddie still felt awful about it, always making sure to double check.
“Feel ok?”
“Yeah, feels fine.” You sighed, rolling your shoulders lightly, sinking into the mattress. “Feels kinda scratchy.”
“Yeah.” Eddie snorted lightly, and though you couldn’t see it through your blindfold, you knew he was grinning. “Told you it was itchy.”
“It’s not that bad.” Your lips curled into a sideways grin. “The cuffs are way worse.”
Eddie hummed softly, tongue poking out at the array of toys- your toys. Vibrators, a dildo in the mold of his cock- you’d gotten it for him last Valentine’s Day, though it was more of a gift for you.
His hand reached for the slender, long wand- your favorite. He wasn’t punishing you, after all.
You felt the bed dip, the low groan of the mattress squeaking, Eddie’s hand on your thigh made you jump, spreading your legs apart.
A click, a buzz, and your body tensed in anticipation. You waited for the vibrating, soft silicone to glide over your skin. Instead, Eddie’s curls tickled your thighs, pillowy lips leaving a hot, wet kiss right above your knee. Sloppy kisses trailed up your leg, painfully slow, leaving you squirming and pulling against the tinsel.
He paused, hovering over your mound, breath ghosting over the skin, a pitiful whine leaving your lips. You clenched, trying to still your body from bucking towards him. Eddie smirked, nose tracing the wiry hair just above your slit, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. No tongue, which had you huffing, but he lingered there for a moment.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ pouty on me, baby.” Eddie muttered, lips buzzing against your skin, your body shivering when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“‘M not pouty.” You sighed, lip jutting in the most adorably contradicting way. “But you said you wouldn’t tease.”
“No teasing at all?” Eddie hummed, his tone light and playful, kissing up your sternum, tongue flattening to lick a long stripe between your breasts. “Where’s the fun in that?”
You whine, body writhing pathetically against the restraints. “This isn’t fun.” You huff, frowning under the blindfold, the same bratty, snipping tone that Eddie knew far too well when you’d play. His weakness.
“Alright, alright,” Eddie cooed gently, teetering on the edge of mocking. “I gotcha. I’ll give you what you want.”
The vibrator brushed over your right nipple, soft silicone head thrumming, tickling the nerves, shooting electricity through you. Eddie circled the nipple gently, dipping down to kiss along your jaw.
“Please…” You panted, trapping a nasally whine behind closed lips.
“Please what? What do you want?” Eddie muttered, lip dragging along your neck. “Tell me what you want. You know you gotta tell me. How else will I know?”
“You know.” You snapped, hips wiggling.
Eddie didn’t move, stilled entirely except for moving the vibrator away from your pebbled nipple. A huffy whine, throaty and desperate had Eddie nearly caving, giving in because he did know what you wanted. He just wanted to hear you ask.
“I-I don’t want it there.” You mutter, body flushing with embarrassed heat, wiggling in hopes Eddie wouldn’t see it on your exposed skin.
“Where do you want it?” Eddie rasped, free hand cupping your boob, squeezing it gently.
“In-In me.” You mumbled,
“In you? In you where?” Eddie smirked, lifting the vibrator. “You want it… here?” The vibrations tickled your mouth, buzzing against your lips.
You writhed, head turning away. “No.”
“Oh, so you want it…” Eddie dragged the vibrator down your sternum, lightly over your slit, grinning at how your hips bucked excitedly. Only, he didn’t press it into your sopping hole, didn’t press it against your clit and bury his cock into you like you’d hoped.
No, instead, he pressed it between your cheeks, the tip buzzing against your tightest hole, leaving your squealing, hips jumping off the bed. “You want it in here?” Eddie grinned, teasing your ass gently.
“No, no, not there.” You shook your head furiously. “Eddie, you-you’re being mean!”
“I’m not.” Eddie feigned shock dramatically. “I just don’t know what you want, baby. You gotta tell me.”
Your lips tightened in a flat line, and he knew you were glaring at him through the blindfolds. “I-I want it in my pussy.”
“In it?” Eddie hummed, dragging the vibrator through your folds, circling your sopping hole.
“Yes- wait, no.” You moaned, head spinning at the sensation. “I want you inside me, and I want you to use it on me. On my pussy.”
“Oh…” Eddie sighed dramatically, finally pressing the vibrator over your clit, smug at the way your body jolted and bucked at the sensation. “I gotcha. See? That’s all you had to say.” He hummed, free hand lifting your left leg up, hooking it over his shoulder.
You felt the head of his cock slipping through your folds, groaning at the vibrations tickling through his own core. “I’ll give you what you want, baby.” Hips rolling slowly into yours, your back was arching off the bed at the double sensations.
Eddie’s free hand on your left hip, holding you into place while he pounded you, full rolls of his hips that punched straight to your core, winding you. The vibrator sloppily circling your clit, making you clench earlier than you expected, nails digging into the tinsel. The scratchy decor digging into your skin, that tiny bit of uncomfortable pleasure, a little bit of pain with the satisfaction Eddie was giving you, heightened by the blindfold. He knew exactly what he was doing, what you needed.
You pulled at the restraints again, itchy and burning into the skin of your wrists, harmonizing with the pleasure from Eddie and the vibrator, toes curling and strangled moans filling the space between you two, sending you over the edge for the first time.
The next two that followed before Eddie finally came, were enough to leave your mind blank. Gone with the frustration of the week, aching from sensation, and wrists rubbed raw from the tinsel.
Eddie let you sleep, after cleaning you up and the post check. You were sleeping hard, cheek squished, drooling into the pillow, wiped out. He cleaned the vibrator, throwing it back with the others. Applied Cortisone cream to the chafed skin of your wrists, doing a double check for any missed damage from before.
He held the tinsel in his hands, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, padding towards the door frame. Eddie hooked one end then the other, pulling tight to secure it up on the walls. Wrenching open the kitchen window, Eddie huffed, shoving the dangling strings of lights you had hung over the windows out of the way. He paused, lingering over the strand, twinkling bulbs on thick, sturdy chords. Maybe next time, I’ll use the light, Eddie thought, grinning to himself, blowing a cloud of smoke out the window.
#oneforthemunny#munnysmerriest#12daysofdom!eddie#munny’s merriest#dom!eddie munson#dom!eddie munson x reader#dom!eddie#dom!eddie munson x brat!reader#dom!eddie munson x sub!reader#brat tamer!eddie#brat tamer!eddie munson#soft dom!eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie x fem!reader#eddie stranger things#eddie my love <3#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fic#stranger things#stranger things 4#eddie munson christmas#eddie munson x you
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Steve was having a really bad day.
He forgot to pass on a message to a co-worker which, ok, wasn’t the end of the world exactly, but it made his insides squirm.
He forgot to write a list for his boss which, again, nothing that couldn’t be rectified, but it made his palms itch.
A customer yelled at him over something out of his control and he had to stand there and take it because what is retail if not the first circle of hell.
Steve sat in the break room and wished his coffee was hotter while he ran his hands through his hair.
“It’s just one of those days,” he told himself over and over. “It’ll be over soon,”
He wasn’t working the next day so he was counting down the very seconds until he could dart out the front door and not have to come back for a whole forty hours.
Things didn’t improve after he swallowed his lukewarm coffee and went back to his duties. Everything he said seemed to land wrong. Everything he did seemed to need redoing. It felt like his co-workers were annoyed with him even though he knew that realistically they had no reason to be. Steve’s jaw was sore from clenching it shut, trying not to burst into tears right there in the store and hold it together at least until he got to his car.
Even staying an extra fifteen minutes after he should have left to help someone finish a task they were struggling ended up being the wrong thing to do. Why did he stay? Had he clocked out? He should have. Did he not know that overtime needed to be approved a day in advance?
Steve let the feeling of the latest failure of the day wash over him as he grabbed his things and left after his shift.
Eddie wasn’t even going to be home when he got back. He was running a campaign for his D&D group which was being hosted in Gareth’s place a full fucking two hour’s drive away. Eddie was just going to be staying the night there and coming back tomorrow, instead of driving home when they finished. It made sense. It was going to be a ten-hour session and they didn’t even start until almost noon. It was just something that happened every other week and Steve usually enjoyed having a few hours to himself but today he would have killed to have his boyfriend waiting for him.
Steve’s lip wobbled while he drove. His eyes were misty and he was blinking rapidly to keep them clear. He was determined to get home before fully breaking down. He just wanted to order dinner, wrap himself up in every blanket he could find, and watch the latest episode of Married At First Sight. When he finally got back to their apartment, his phone pinged with a text from Eddie.
“Hope work was ok! I’ll call you before I go to sleep later? We’ve got about four hours left”
Steve sighed at the screen. Eddie always called him to say goodnight when he stayed at Gareth’s. Usually Steve loved it because Eddie would be a little bit drunk after having some post-session beers with his friend and they’d giggle together on a video call until Eddie’s eyelids drooped. Tonight though Steve wasn’t sure he could handle the reminder that he was alone when he wanted so badly to be held.
“Long day. Probably just crash soon as I’m home”
“You good?”
“Just tired. Hope you’re having fun :) “
Steve regretted the food he ordered for dinner. He wanted the orange chicken but for some reason he ordered sweet and sour pork. It wasn’t bad, it was fine, but the chicken was his favourite and it almost felt like a form of punishment for his bad day. So now Steve was crying uncontrollably over a container of rice. He felt so stupid but it was just one more thing that had gone wrong for him today. Crying at this point didn’t even feel cathartic. It just gave him a headache and made his throat dry.
He didn’t finish his food, and he didn’t watch TV. Steve dragged himself to his bedroom, leaving his clothes in a pile in front of the dresser he grabbed his sweatpants from, before he took a pill for his headache and fell, unshowered, into bed. It was still bright outside.
Steve felt the bed dip next to him. For the briefest moment a kind of raw panic gripped his chest and he was too scared to open his eyes. It wasn’t until he felt a familiar brush of fingertips over his temple, sweeping strands of hair out of his face, that he calmed down.
“Stevie?”
Eddie whispered it softly and Steve opened his eyes. The room was dark, but there was a navy blue hue, like the sun was only barely below the horizon, that meant Steve could still see Eddie’s outline.
“What time is it?” mumbled Steve.
“Almost nine,” said Eddie gently, still rubbing his hand through Steve’s hair.
Steve scrunched his nose. Nine? That wasn’t right? It wasn’t bright enough to be morning. He peered up at his alarm clock, still flashing the same date it had been when he closed his eyes before fitful sleep.
Steve sat up quickly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, panicked again. “Why are you here, what happened?”
Steve knew Eddie’s D&D sessions never cut short for anything less than a national emergency so he was instantly on high alert. Eddie driving all the way home was even more concerning. Steve gripped Eddie’s arms, he was still wearing his leather jacket. It was cold from being outside. He lifted the edges of the jacket as if he was checking to make sure Eddie was all in one piece.
“Nothing happened,” soothed Eddie. “We just finished up early,”
Steve was still looking over Eddie’s body like he was expecting to find a missing limb or something.
“What?” asked Steve, confused. “Why?”
Eddie shrugged.
“Wasn’t feeling the vibe,” he said easily. “I plugged the plug and said I needed to get home,”
“You never finish early,” said Steve. “And you never drive home. What happened?”
Eddie sighed.
“Why don’t you tell me?” asked Eddie gently, reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek.
Steve gulped.
“I don’t…” stuttered Steve. “Nothing, what do you mean?”
“Baby,” said Eddie firmly.
Steve chewed his lip to stop it trembling.
“I just had a bad day,” said Steve quietly. “You didn’t need… You could have stayed out there,”
Eddie gently pulled Steve forward, so he could rest his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Steve breathed in the well-known smell of cologne and cigarettes smoked outside. He practically melted into it.
“Thought this might be where I was needed more,” murmured Eddie, twisting around on the edge of the bed to allow Steve to relax more comfortably into his hiding place. “Looks like I was right, hmm?”
“Ruined your game though,” said Steve, muffled against the leather of Eddie’s jacket. “I just had a bad day,”
“It’s not ruined,” assured Eddie as Steve’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Knowing I left you here by yourself after a bad day is what would have ruined it,”
“I didn’t even say anything,” sighed Steve. Eddie was running a comforting hand over his back.
“You didn’t need to,” said Eddie. “Soon as you didn’t ask for a more solid time to expect me to call you, that’s when I knew,”
Steve sniffed back a tear.
“So dumb…” said Steve, frustrated almost more than ever with himself now. “I’m sorry, this is so fucking dumb,”
Eddie shushed him gently.
“No it’s not,” said Eddie, nuzzling into Steve’s hair. “Sometimes things creep up on you like this. It happens,”
“I wish it didn’t,” admitted Steve, pulling back to look at Eddie.
Eddie rested their foreheads together.
“I’m always here for when it does, though,” said Eddie softly.
Steve closed his eyes and let Eddie take him into another embrace, holding him tight for what could have been seconds or hours.
Steve didn’t remember when Eddie finally slipped his jacket off. He didn’t remember feeling him sliding into bed next to him, gathering him up and holding him as close as he could. Steve just remembered the feeling of Eddie heartbeat against his own chest, the sound of his breathing, his fingertips scratching gently against Steve’s scalp.
All Steve knew was feeling safe. Protected. Like one bad day was no longer drowning him because now, he remembered how to keep his head above water.
#steddie#my writing#seth writes#steve x eddie#why yes i did have a bad day and project it onto steve harrington
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Can i request megumi comforting reader after a bad day? i need happy comfort fluff today and you words are magic
★ Stargazing with Megumi
★ Pairings : fem reader / Megumi
★ Synopsis : Megumi takes you stargazing. Who knew he was such a space nerd?
★ Content : fluff, comfort, cheesy/dorky flirting
★ Note : 🪄🔮 sprinkling cosmic happiness dust on u rn!! hope u feel better!!
Arms spread out, laid on your back in the cool grass as a humid summer breeze drifts by, looking up at the dusky purple sky as stars slowly start to appear one by one.
Megumi shifts around next to you, trying to get comfortable. He bends his knees, you glance at his legs and note how much longer his legs are than yours.
A soft sigh leaves his nose. He brings his hands together over his midriff and fidgets his fingers while stealing sideways glances of you.
One particular star in the sky has caught your attention. It shines like a jewel. You blink at it, ignoring all the other littler stars that are coming out.
"Megumi, which star is that?" you ask.
"That's Venus."
You stare at Venus. "Why is it so much brighter than the rest?" you wonder aloud.
Megumi looks over at you, his heart throbs, then he looks back to Venus.
"Because it has thick clouds that reflect lots of sunlight." he answers your curiosity, "Uh, and it's the closest to earth. You know, it's also the hottest planet in our solar system — because of its clouds."
He goes on a long, dorky ramble about planets and constellations. You smile and listen to him geek out about space.
⁕⁕⁕⁕
Just a few hours earlier, Megumi had found you lingering gloomily on the steps outside Jujutsu High.
He did a double take and furrowed his brows when he saw your weighted expression. Characteristically, he sunk his hands into his pockets and approached you coolly.
"What's that heavy face for?" he asked.
"Bad day." you shrugged.
"Oh..." he stiffened, "What happened? Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.
"No, nothing in particular happened." you replied, "It's just been one of those days, you know?"
He scrambled his brain for ideas that could make you feel better.
What would the others do?
What would Yuji do? He'd crack jokes until you smiled and then infect you with his contagious laughter. What would Nobara do? She'd take you out on the town for retail therapy — and hype you up in the fitting rooms until you felt like the hottest person in the world. What would Gojo do? Probably give you one of those bone-breaking hugs while saying something dumb like "Don't be sad, it's just life, kid."
But joking didn't come naturally to Megumi, and he didn't believe in retail therapy, and he was too shy and reserved to give you a bone-breaking hug, and he was too sensitive as a person to tell you to just get over it.
"Uh, do you want to stargaze with me?" he asked.
That was the only idea he could come up with. Laying in the grass and stargazing was something he did when life exhausted or disappointed him. The stars could call back his calmness.
⁕⁕⁕⁕
"... I feel bad for Mercury, it must be lonely without moons." Megumi finishes his long ramble about Mercury.
"I think I'm Mercury." you joke, laughing at yourself.
Megumi looks over at you, "Then I'll be your moon and keep you company."
Your cheeks warm up.
"Okay, then let's tell 'em to rename Mercury to Megumi and throw a me into its orbit, too."
Megumi fidgets with his fingers more as you and him flirt like dorks.
"... yeah, and then you can orbit around me." he nods.
"Sounds like a good time. I'd love to orbit around you."
His cheeks go red, but the lamps are too far away to illuminate his face and reveal his blush to you. So you just barely see his lips purse together into a smile.
"I'd also love to orbit around you. I could be like your moon admirer."
You burst out laughing at last, and then Megumi feels accomplished; he could actually fix your mood with some stargazing and dorky astral flirting.
For the rest of the night, he teaches you how to spot famous constellations and passionately talks about outer space. At some point, when he's saying something about Pluto, you zone out to his voice.
"... and you know, personally, if I were Pluto I'd be enraged. How dare they."
"You got a bone to pick with NASA, Megumi?" you chuckle.
"It wasn't NASA it was the IAU. And yes I have a bone to pick with them."
"So, why was Pluto downgraded to a dwarf planet?" you ask.
Megumi clicks his tongue, "Uhhh... something about it not absorbing surrounding debris or something? Like asteroids and stuff. But jeez, maybe the asteroids are Pluto's friends and he doesn't wanna absorb them, you know?"
You turn on your side and use your arm as a pillow. Megumi feels you looking at him, so he looks over at you.
"You're quite passionate."
"That's a nice way of calling me a space nerd."
"No, I mean it! I hardly ever see you talking so heatedly about anything. You're usually pretty calm."
Megumi smiles a little. "Bet it's funny to see me heated about big rocks floating in a vacuum, huh?"
"Yeah it's hilarious. Anyways... we should get back before we fall asleep here."
"Have you never slept under the stars? It's a great experience." Megumi says.
"I have not. But it's getting cold so... you better keep me warm."
Megumi tenses up as you snuggle him. The sudden closeness and feeling of your warmth and softness takes him aback and he goes completely silent.
You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, sinking into him like a pillow.
"Hey Megumi?"
"Yes?"
"Isn't Venus the planet of love?"
"Yes...?"
"Nothing, nothing... just thinking."
His heart pounds.
© arminsumi
I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
This is fictional work.
#fluff#sfw#jjk fluff#megumi fluff#megumi x reader#megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi x fem reader#megumi x y/n#megumi x you#jjk megumi#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#drabble#arminsumi
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