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oxymorayuri · 2 days

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❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part six

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here or the overview. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: language, !S.A.! Mainly noises, no exact description of the process, mature content ✦ Spoiler: none

wordcount: 5678

tagging: @lazyninjatheorist - @sassyyassi - @cottoncandyloverrrr - @littleleelee

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: yanfenguo_gao

"Travelling around like ordinary people is a really good thing…" You look over to Ace as he licks his ice cream happily.

Together you walk around the passenger ship. You were lucky to get the last two tickets and now it will be a whole day before you arrive at your destination… Dressrosa.

Even though you are happily licking your ice cream, your eyes are looking around attentively. You may not be on Dressrosa yet, but you're already at work.

"It definitely has its benefits, but I suggest you keep your eyes open Ace…" You stop at the railing and look down from the second floor to the lower deck and watch the people.

You count them and try to separate who you've already seen. Fortunately, with so few people, it's quite clear and in the back of your mind you try to spot any suspicious people.

So far, you've only been able to count 16 people who look like typical travelers. Families gathered on the lower level to watch the fish in the sea or couples strolling across the deck, gazing at the open sea. At the thought, your gaze wanders to the side, to Ace, who is still busy with his ice cream. A reluctant grin forms on your lips as you watch him.

With the ice cream in your hands, you really do look like a normal couple. You don't really know why that makes you smile, after all, that's the plan…

"Hey Ace, let me see the tickets. I'd like to see where our cabin is." He looks at you, a little dumbfounded.

"Cabin?" He reaches into his trouser pocket with one free hand and hands you the tickets.

"Yes, the trip to Dressrosa takes about a day, what did you think?" - "I don't know, I didn't think it would take that long. With the Moby Dick we'd easily be there in five hours…" he remarks while he's busy with his ice cream.

You can't help giggling and shake your head.

"The Moby Dick is a completely different story compared to a ferry." You lean back against the railing and look up at Ace.

"This is a ship for travelers." You watch him stuff the last bit of his waffle into his mouth, while you still have some of your last scoop left and he looks down at you confused.

"We're travelers on the Moby Dick too. I don't see the difference." You look dreamily at the people below you. It's true that you pirates are just travelers too. Travelers in a different way… But on your downward missions you also enjoyed the simple life. Between all the spying, you still had time to enjoy the area, after all, that's part of your facade… And who knows what you'll hear and see around the next corner…

You once sat down in the casino for fun, to strip the spoiled rich. The evening was promising. Gosh, some men are so easy to influence. First you got them to bet more with your seductive manner. Then you challenged them, questioned their wealth and flirted with them. These men have nothing more to do than brag about their money and show off.

How boring... but good for you, because you always win. Not in an honest way, of course, but you sit down at the table with the intention of cheating, so at least you're being honest with yourself. But that evening there was someone at the table who, although he had lost some money, had won something new.

Interest.

He invited you into the private area of the casino, without knowing that you were actually his employee. Crocodile had his eye on you and your cunning manner and wanted to show you that it didn't hurt him one bit, that you had won a handsome amount of money from him.

What he didn't know was that you were already working for him but in a wig, of course.

When you steal from people, you rarely do it as the person you're 'pretending' to be, so you went into your boss's casino with your natural hair. Starting as a guest and ended up in the VIP area by Crocodile's side; It can be that easy...

Crocodile has been a very generous man and even if you hardly want to admit it, you kind of enjoyed it.

He has a very charismatic demeanor and is a sharp businessman. You had a few things in common and the atmosphere was quite pleasant. Being with him made you feel different but in the back of your mind you always remembered that he was your enemy. But the feeling of leading this double life was thrilling.

Of course, as the owner of the casino, lots of interesting people wanted to talk to him. How foolish. Things are discussed in front of you, that a stranger shouldn't hear, but Crocodile was too busy having you by his side as a fancy accessory.

"Hey y/n take a look at these guys."

Ace voice pulls you out of your memory... you don't even know how you got there but it doesn't matter anymore. Your eyes wander to the men Ace is pointing at. Rolling your eyes, you take Ace's arm down.

"Don't point at them like that. If they look up, they'll notice us." You say calmly to him. You look after the men as they disappear from your field of vision and even when you lean over the railing you can no longer see them. You curse slightly to yourself.

"They're gone." Ace mumbles as he does the same and leans over the railing. At the same time, you look each other in the eye and nod.

Without another word, you both head down to the lower floor and try to track down the suspicious figures. Compared to a map of the ship and which way they were going, they must have walked to the private cabins.

The chances are slim, but you won't let any opportunity pass by. You walk along the corridor with quick but silent steps until you reach the end and find yourself in a circular lobby with several rooms. But no sign of the men.

"Hm, we seem to have lost them…" Ace put his hands on his hips and looked at one door after the other. Just before you were about to turn around, one of the doors opened and the shady gentlemen stepped out of the door with two women.

You quickly throw yourself at Ace and lead him to a door nearby so that you don't look suspicious.

You giggle at Ace in a somewhat drunken voice.

"Darliiiiiiing.. don't tell me you left the key at the bar again…" a little surprised, he caught you and looked at the men and immediately understood what was going on. He pulled you closer to him with one arm and searched for the imaginary keys in his pockets as the men walked past you.

"Sorry my love, I was just so lost in your eyes that I forgot them there…" You chuckle lovingly as you wrap your arms around his neck to give him a kiss. You had only meant to make it look like a kiss on the lips, but Ace pulled you towards him so that your kiss landed directly on his mouth.

A little startled, you wanted to push away from him but Ace stopped you by holding your face and whispering a grinning 'play along' on your lips. You realize that it would be conspicuous if you ended your kiss abruptly, but you can't shake the feeling that Ace is shamelessly taking advantage of the situation.

For a brief moment they give you a few glances but they're obviously buying the act.

When they have passed, you break away from Ace and return to a normal stance but speak in your sugary sweet voice.

"Aww honey, then let's go back to the bar and have another drink!" You look at Ace and nod in the men's direction to make it clear that you're following them now.

Together you chase after the four people. At one point, one of the women turns around and you quickly latch onto Ace, gazing up at him lovingly to avoid looking dubious.

As you expected, Ace played along wonderfully. He put his arm around your shoulder and paid attention only to you as if no one else was around you. He even went a step further and gave you a sweet Eskimo kiss with his nose. His teasing grin may be cute on the outside but you can see his real smirk behind it. He's enjoying being close to you for the sake of the show and you immediately blush…

"Look forward and don't fall behind, you stupid bitch." Somewhat roughly, one of the men grabbed the woman by the shoulder and pulled her towards him. You couldn't help but notice the look on her face. A hopeless look.

When their backs are turned to you again, you look at them with skepticism. The gentlemen are well dressed, but you can see a small tattoo on the neck of one of them… Where have you seen this tattoo before? It looks familiar…

The ladies are dolled up like slutty escorts, don't speak a word and are downright terrified. You know what that means and that is, that you need to find out more about them.

At the bar of the restaurant, you watch the small group eating from a safe distance. The women were so frightened that they hardly ate anything or looked up from their plates…

You grit your teeth and turn to Ace.

"This is going to be trickier than I thought. So far they've only talked about unimportant things…" - " Then we'll have to get in touch with the women somehow…" he observes the women with slightly narrowed eyes. It's clear to you that these people play an important role when it comes to your mission.

You rummage for something in your handbag.

"Good idea Ace... the men don't seem stupid enough to talk in public but we can work this out." The black haired man leans towards you while holding onto his drink with one hand.

"What do we do now?" You already have a rough idea, you know that no matter where the women go, they will be watched, but there is one place where they will be alone for a brief moment. The toilet.

You ask the bartender for a pen and paper and write down a few words, folding the paper several times.

"Watch and learn." You lean forward towards Ace and smile at him with a confident wink.

You take one last sip from your glass and slide off the bar stool to go to the toilets. Luckily, the suspects are sitting right on the way there and you fall in a dramatic and skilled fashion, right next to the one woman. You try to hold on to the table but you knock her glass down with you. With flushed cheeks, you look up at her and grab her by the arm to apologize profusely.

You put some money on the table for the spilled drink and take one of her hands and again you apologize sincerely to her while you press your note into her hand under the table.

The gentlemen watch attentively as you place her glass but say nothing and just look you up and down.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed your meal, have a nice day!" and embarrassed, you scurry down the corridor to the toilets.

Behind the door of the ladies room, your embarrassed expression disappears immediately and you head straight for the first toilet to carry out the second part of your plan.

You write a few words on another piece of paper, but this time you write more. You have to hurry because you don't have much time. Their plates are almost empty and when they leave the restaurant there won't be another chance.

Hastily you write the last words in a sloppy handwriting and fold the paper up again. You take one of the spy buds out of your handbag and tape it together with the note to the lid of the toilet. Then you leave the lid up so that nobody will see it…

In the meantime, Ace watches as the woman carefully read the note you gave her under the table. Without looking at it, she hides the note in her nylons.

When you came out of the bathroom and sat down next to Ace, you heard her say that she needed to use the toilet and one of the men wiped his mouth in annoyance.

"You women are annoying, I'll be glad when this job is done…"

"Get up and go ahead," he said as he stood up as well.

They both disappeared in the direction of the ladies room and, as you assumed, the guy didn't even have the shame to wait outside. He went into the restroom with her, but you know it's unlikely he'll go into the stall with her.

You turn your back to the remaining people and swirl your glass.

"What kind of performance was that? That was awesome and absolutely natural!" Ace is visibly surprised by your little act.

"That's a piece of cake." - "A piece of cake?! Even I thought you fell down for real y/n… that was incredible." With a proud grin, you clink glasses with each other.

"Now we just have to wait and see if she plays along." - "I believe she does. She hid your note in her tights, I think she definitely doesn't want to be there."

Your gaze wanders to the side but you don't answer him. Even if she wants to cooperate, you won't be able to help her. If you help her escape, it could cause trouble and endanger the actual mission.

Your goal is not to be a hero, but to play an informant. Just like for those men there, she's just a mere tool for your own benefit… You feel a little sick to yourself, you know what's waiting for these girls in the end and you don't wish it on anyone, but either you bring Doflamingo down and stop this slave trade completely, or you save two girls and get caught.

You have to make that decision. You're not proud of it but honestly it's never been hard for you because you know that the actual goal would help a lot more people.

Also, if you are exposed, then people will keep an eye on the Whitebeard pirates and that would be unfortunate for you…

You don't even notice how you're biting your lip the whole time. It's a little habit of yours, especially when you're deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" It doesn't go unnoticed how you chew your bottom lip. Amused, he nudges you with his elbow as you still don't react. A little startled, you look up at him and blush as you stare into his eyes. Ace sitting next to you while you're on a mission is still strange. You're used to being alone and having Ace as your partner doesn't make it any better…

"Just that you might be right." You look ahead. You keep your true thoughts to yourself for now.

"Really?" A little too happy for your taste, Ace smiles to himself as he looks into his glass.

"Tell me, what did you write on the note?" - "On the first one, that if she's in danger, she should go to the bathroom. I left her another message in the first stall…" You carefully take the second earphone out of your pocket and hold it up to Ace's face. He raises his eyebrow a little as though he can't fully understand.

"I offered her a deal." You pause for a moment, secretly knowing you won't keep this deal. It's all for the bigger picture, you keep telling yourself.

"If she makes the deal, we'll be able to eavesdrop on them later when they're in their private rooms." You play with the earphone between your fingers like it's a marble. It makes click in Ace's head and he gets the idea.

"That's perfect! Sooner or later they'll talk!" Ace is clearly looking overjoyed, as if the job is already done.

"Not quite yet… When they leave, I'll see what kind of answer she leaves me…" You nod toward the restrooms and Ace nods in agreement. Chances are good, but inside you're preparing a plan B.

After a while, as your possible accomplice came back out of the restroom with the other man, all four of them left the restaurant.

The moment of truth has arrived. Will she play along?

You wait a moment until they are out of sight and get up.

"Pay the bill… after I get back we should head to our room." Ace nods at you and calls the bartender over.

Your heart is pounding as you open the door to the stall. Will you have an easy game or will you have to come up with a new plan?

You briefly squint your eyes as you close the door behind you. For a moment, you hesitate before looking at her answer.

If she goes along with it, she should flush your letter down the toilet and put the earphone in. If not, she should tear up your letter and throw it in the bin.

You hold your breath without realizing as you open the trash can... There is no letter in there.

Satisfied, you exhale. She is playing along.

You quickly make your way back to Ace, who is still waiting for you at the bar. He looks at you intensely as if he wants to read the answer from your face.

"And?"

"Let's go into our room and discuss everything else."

As soon as you arrive in your room, you get everything ready.

You place a Den Den Mushi on a table and plug in your one earphone. You flick a few switches on the snail so that their voices can be heard aloud but no one can hear you. You don't want her to hear what you say or find out who you are. A name alone would be already bad... If the men discover the earpiece, the risk of her talking is too high. The less she knows about you, the better.

Ace watched you connect the equipment, as if you had done it thousands of times before and sat down on the bed.

When you're done, you drop down next to him on the bed and stare at the speaker. For a while you stare at the snail as it plays the voices of the men. So far the conversations have been meaningless, but you are aware that this can take a while. They probably won't talk while the women are awake.

The silence is interrupted when Ace's stomach makes itself heard. Embarrassed, he grips the back of his neck and mumbles a quiet 'sorry'. The blush on his face makes you giggle because he's really adorable whenever he's embarrassed.

You think for a moment... It would also do you some good to eat, so you crawl to the other side of the bed, because there was a phone on the nightstand. Ace's eyes follow you discreetly as you reach across the bed. His gaze travels up your long legs to your ass.

Oh, how he would love to grab you by the hips and push your dress up so he could look at your ass. Your lovely curves shimmer slightly through your dress, but he pulls himself together and banishes his desires.

Now is not the right time and he doesn't want to mess things up with you. The day will come when you belong to him, he will make sure of that, but he knows how important this mission is to you. He knows how much you enjoy your job and, above all, how well you do it.

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts and the only thing he catches is you saying goodbye and putting the phone down.

"The food should be here in half an hour, I hope your stomach can hold out until then." You plop down next to him again and lean over to him with a broad smirk.

At first he seemed a little surprised, but this expression quickly changed on his face and his lips curled into a mischievous grin instead.

"Maybe you could distract me a little…" His voice is so seductive and low… you suddenly get quite warm and open your mouth but no words come out. Should you go along and take it to the extreme or should you break the atmosphere?

You think of Marco's words; you shouldn't deepen these feelings, they lead to nothing.

But the desire is great. Unconsciously, you lean further forward and look at him with innocent eyes.

"What would you like?" You won't grant him that he's the one in control. Let him tell you about his fantasies… Maybe you'll like it? You don't have to do it, but hearing it will be good for your self esteem.

He exhales with a small laugh and looks down.

His fingers search for a bare spot on your body and you allow him to caress your thigh.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, you hear the men through the Den Den Mushi.

"When are we meeting with the guy tomorrow?" Your eyes shoot over to the snail and both of you are completely back to work. You reach for your notebook, it could be getting interesting now.

You interlace your fingers and listen attentively to their conversation.

"He said we should come straight to the moulin rouge to deliver the goods." - "Okay, very good." A short pause follows and you write down the name. Moulin rouge… writing it down you add 'address' with a question mark. You assume it's a brothel or something similar, but Dressrosa is big…

"Tell me Johnny, why don't we test the 'goods' before we deliver them?" Your stomach is churning, you sense something bad.

A dirty laugh sounds through the speaker, followed by desperate screams from the women. With contorted faces, you listen to the panicked and tormented cries until Ace decides to turn off the snail.

"I'm sorry y/n but one more second and I'll break down their door…" Ace clenches his fists, he's about to storm off but you get up and grab his hands to calm him down.

"Yeah yeah, I know… but we'll make sure everyone gets free…" As long as they're not already sold to a rich buyer... but you won't let Ace know that.

At your gentle voice, Ace's body begins to relax and his jaw unclenches. You can understand him, it was cruel to listen to. Even though you would have liked to know more than just a name, you could no longer listen to these desperate cries. You were only a second away and then you would have turned off the Den Den Mushi yourself.

After the food was brought to you, you worked on a few notes you had made about the day. You've added questions that you hope will be answered on the mission, something that helps you keep track of things, and without you realizing it, Ace looks over your shoulder as he stuffs his face with food.

"Aren't you hungry at all?" he remarks as he looks at your barely touched plate.

You literally wake up from your work mode and find yourself in a room with Ace. He recognizes your slight confusion and looks at your plate. You look at your plate a little slowly and your stomach turns immediately, feeling starved.

"Ah yes, you're right…" You put the notes aside and start eating.

Ace joins you at the small table and you eat together while you talk about all sorts of things. Ace almost glows as he talks about his brothers and their adventures. With your chin in your hand, you listen to him attentively. You enjoy this carefree moment with Ace.

"Tell me y/n what happened before the Whitebeard pirates? Where's your family?" You lean back in your chair with a somewhat troubled look on your face. You don't like talking about the time before the Whitebeard Pirates… For you, your life started when you followed Whitebeard.

Ace doesn't miss the change and seems a little panicked as he assures you that you don't have to tell him. That's exactly why you don't want to get involved with Ace. The closer the bond, the more you confide in him.

So far, all you've experienced is separation and a feeling of vulnerability. You've shown them your weak side and that's what you want to avoid now.

"It's okay… It's just that I don't like talking about it…" You look up at him a little uncertainly.

"And you don't have to, I promise. I don't want to pressure you into anything." His eyes seem honest and you believe him without hesitation.

"You'd better tell me why Whitebeard adores you so much… I can understand why, but he really does treat you like his own daughter." You grin to yourself. You don't know exactly either.

"I really have no clue…" You yawn a little, it's already quite late.

"We should go to bed, the ship docks tomorrow morning and we have to get the other earbud before we dock, which means we have to get up early." - "Ah yes, that's right, the woman has the other earphone…"

You disappear into the bathroom with your sleeping clothes to change and get ready for bed. When you came back into the room, you saw Ace about to go to bed. In just his undershorts...

With his back leaning against the headboard, he covered himself with a blanket while his whole upper body was exposed. Putting his arms behind his head, he smiled at you mockingly.

"Are you coming to bed my love?" You roll your eyes and get under the covers.

"Stop messing around Ace. There's no one here we have to fool." You lie down with your back to Ace and try to sleep. From the side, you hear Ace's little sigh and you notice him lying down.

"I'm not messing around…" His hands reach out to pull you close to him and he buries his face in your hair.

Your body tenses but you don't feel able to fight back and let Ace embrace you.

"I'm sorry y/n but you always smell so good. Your smell drives me crazy…" His hand wanders under your shirt and he gently strokes your skin.

Even if he had planned not to get too close to you, he can't resist his desire to touch you. These feelings just keep building up as soon as you're within reach. Without much thought, he enjoys the feeling of your skin as he runs his hand over your curves.

"Your skin is so smooth like a sweet peach, it makes me addicted." His lips are right by your ear as he whispers the words in a voice filled with pleasure. His raspy voice gives you chills and without you being able to stop it, your body moves to match his gentle touch.

"Ace please, stop…" The way you're grinding your ass against him, doesn't make you look like you want him to stop.

His skillful hands move carefully from your thighs up to your breasts and he gently begins to knead them. Tender sounds escaped your lips as Ace began to tug slowly on your already hard nipple. He began to feast on your neck and placed countless kisses, causing you to arch your back.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?"

You suck in the air a little shakily. How can a kiss be so intense? But you can't give in. You have to hold your ground.

"Yes… Please… Please stop…" Your voice is almost pleading, but the excitement is hard to ignore.

"What if I don't stop?" His hand moves further down, towards your underwear.

Yeah, then what? You ask yourself but you do nothing... His finger plays with the thin band of your slip and lets the rubber snap against your sensitive skin.

Fingertips disappear lightly under your underwear and brush over your skin without going directly between your already drenched folds.

"Mhhm… y/n you make me so hard…" It was a mistake to share a cabin with him, if this continues Ace will have you in the palm of his hand. His soft moans drive you crazy. How do you get out of this situation?

"Ace, this is not a good idea…" You try to talk some sense into him while you enjoy his touch with your eyes closed.

"What's not a good idea?" - "If we sleep together…" Ace's erection against your back increases your desire, to get on top of him and let him fuck you all night. You can almost feel it, the sensation of his magnificent piece filling your greedy pussy…

You shamelessly move your butt up and down and rub his dick, to which Ace reacts with a satisfied moan. He grabs your thigh a little roughly and pushes you closer to him so that his cock presses between your butt cheeks.

His massive boner feels like it's about to pop out of his underpants and you would love to suck his life out of him. Automatically, the saliva gathers in your mouth…

After you had sex on the beach, you had all kinds of dreams about giving him the blowjob of his life and if there were no feelings involved, you wouldn't hesitate for a second.

You open your eyes and try to control your unsteady breathing. It's not fair what he's doing to you.

You turn to him and push him into the bed to sit on him. You are already familiar with this sight… His gaze seems a little hazy, as if he's drunk on you.

Ace enjoys the view; How your nipples stiffen, how your chest goes up and down because of your rapid breathing and when he looks down at you he recognizes the wet spot on your slip. He breathes out a little heavily at the sight of you… Your eyes look at him a little angrily, but he recognizes the blazing lust behind them.

He bites his lip as he watches you struggle. He's glad you feel the same way and no matter what you say against it, your body speaks the truth.

Your breathing is still a little heavy as you sit on top of him, but Ace's smirk is back on his lips.

"That brings back memories…" - "I know! And for a while I couldn't think of anything else but we shouldn't do this…"

He comes up to you and grabs you by the arms while you're still sitting on his lap.

"Why shouldn't we do this y/n??!" His voice is very serious but you can feel the desperation behind it.

"I can't trust your longing…" He rests his forehead on yours and lets his shoulders drop a little. He feels a ashamed. You've already had a similar conversation and he assured you back then, that he was waiting for you and now?

He has broken his word and touched you as he pleased. He curses himself. He probably got too greedy when you came to bed wearing just a shirt.

His fingers found their way to your skin all by themselves and at a certain point he couldn't stop himself. He knows he's not alone with these feelings, but he doesn't understand why you won't let him near you...

He doesn't want to scare you off, but when you're this close to him, he has the urge to touch you…

He puts his arms around you and buries his face in your nape. Your arms automatically go around him and you lean your head on his.

"I'm sorry y/n." he whispers to you. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and you want to tell him how much you long for him too, but you're not ready to take that step.

"If you want, we could cuddle…" You say the words a little shyly. Will it do you any good? Certainly not, but seeing Ace like this isn't something you want either.

"Really? You're okay with that?" He looks up at you happily and searches your eyes to see if you're serious. You nod at him with a gentle smile and he breaks away from you to lie down with his arms outstretched.

He taps on the empty space next to him and looks at you gleefully. You can't help but laugh and snuggle up to him.

Feeling your skin is the most important thing for Ace, even if it's just your little finger.

A/N: Haahhhh… I don't know guys... somehow I love this chapter but somehow I don't? lol. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it <3

➽ Next chapter (not available yet)

#one piece #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one shot ace #ace one piece #portgas ace x you #ace x you #short fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic

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hippiegoth97 · 3 days

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Be Kind, Rewind: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

Master List

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams @slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals @eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30 @jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson @sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975 @costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

A/N: Hey, everybody! I've decided to start posting my Eddie Munson one-shots on here. This one is the first ever story I wrote, both for Eddie and fanfiction in general. It's been edited a couple of times, and may still be a bit rough compared to my current work. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Description: You work with Steve and Eddie in the video store while Robin is off at summer camp. You like Eddie a lot, but you've never pursued him out of fear. Lucky for you, he has other plans...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Smut, swearing, female reader, drug use, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, choking, praise/degradation

Word Count: 4k

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

Be Kind, Rewind

"Alright, for 3 rentals your total is $8.50." You say to the mother struggling to keep her child at bay at the register. He's squirming from her grasp, with a mysterious, sticky substance around his mouth. The woman lets him go in order to reach into her purse. He immediately runs around the corner, headed straight for the candy display. He almost rams directly into it before he's scooped up by your supervisor, Steve Harrington.

"Whoa there, little guy! Looks like you've had enough sugar today. Let's get you back to your mother." Steve walks over and plops the child down. He almost makes yet another run for it, but the transaction is through and the woman wraps her arm around her son to keep him close.

"Thank you, young man! He has just been a terror today. His father dropped him off this morning after letting him go ballistic on a Hershey bar."

"No problem at all, ma'am, have a good day!" Steve replies. And with that, the mother and son walk out the door.

"I see why you get labeled by your friends as 'the babysitter'. You're really good with kids. You'll be a great dad someday, I'm sure." You say with a semi-sarcastic tone. He fixes you with a glare.

"Yeah, whatever. Stop slacking and take these returns in the back to rewind. Eddie is no help, he's probably lighting up in there right now."

"Yes sir!" You salute, which earns you a middle finger from Steve. "I'll whip that freak into shape for you too. Fuck knows I hate pulling more than my fair share of the weight." But that isn't exactly true. You’ve always had a thing for Eddie, ever since you were in school with him. You had talked a few times over the years, but soon enough you were swept up in your own interests. He was running the Hellfire Club, and you were too focused on your studies to have any free time for fun. You found yourself staring at him at lunch though, and he'd always looked right back with a smirk on his handsome face. But you never did anything more. It seemed like you both were worlds apart, even though it was just the opposite end of the cafeteria. But in this job you were lucky enough to get, you are in close proximity to Eddie almost every day.

You still stare sometimes, and you are far from subtle. Neither of you go any further than looks or the occasional teasing remark or small conversation. You wish you had the courage to make a move, but despite his perceived interest in you, you’re afraid he’ll reject you if he knows your true feelings. Sure, he plays around and makes somewhat off-color remarks. But those don’t mean anything, right? Eddie does that with everybody. You're not special to him, right? You spend far too much time trying to convince yourself he doesn't mean anything by what he says around you, thinking it would be crazy for him to like you that way, or at all. It's just a game for him, you always tell yourself. It has to be. You sigh, trying to shake these thoughts away and focus on your task.

You grab the stack of returns, and walk from behind the counter to the back room. Before you open the door marked 'Employees Only', you notice the smell of weed and even see smoke peeking out the bottom of the door. You sigh, rolling your eyes at Eddie's usual antics and pushing the door open, struggling to keep hold on the videotapes. As you walk inside, you ram right into Eddie's chest, causing the tapes to crash onto the floor. "Shit." You mutter, and scramble to pick them back up.

"Oh, shit. Sorry Y/N. Lemme help." Eddie kneels down to gather some tapes. He also picks up the blunt he dropped in your collision, quickly putting it out and into his pocket.

"It's the least you can do, Munson. You know, it wouldn't kill you to do some actual work for once. But I see you have more important things to do." You're not really angry, you're more embarrassed for looking clumsy in front of him. You stand, putting yourself above him.

"Yeah, yeah, save it. I hear enough of that from Harrington already. I know you're not that much of a stickler for rules anyways. You sure do like to pretend though." He looks at you from the floor, reaching up to give you the last tape. A devilish smirk plays on his lips. He really enjoys teasing you, pushing your buttons. It's like he gets off on seeing your face scrunch in quick protest.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Once again, your face goes into that grumpy scrunch he finds so adorable. You cross your arms, acting annoyed.

"It means, Y/N, that you act like the perfect citizen. Good grades, never late, hardworking, blah blah blah." He stands now. Putting that final tape on the table next to the rewinding machine. "But we both know about the looks you liked to steal in the cafeteria at lunch. Those same looks you still like to take now. You are no innocent girl, Y/N."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You lie, cheeks turning bright red. He takes note of your reaction, and presses further. He steps closer to you slowly with each word, eyes staring into yours, until his mouth is just centimeters away.

"Oh, come on, princess." You shiver at the nickname, which he also takes note of. "It's not polite to lie. I get it, you've lived a sheltered life. You feel like you can't waste any time on an asshole like me. Too many reasons not to. You have a bright future waiting for you, right?" He moves his head past yours to speak right into your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek. You freeze, how close he is to you sets your skin aflame. He then speaks quietly, "You wanna know what I think, darling? I think you don't like being a goody-goody at all. I think you're just waiting. Waiting for the right reason to come along for you to break all the rules." He pulls back to look in your eyes, still smirking.

You just stare back in shock, but you're also extremely turned on. You've always wanted to pursue something with Eddie. But he’s right. You don't have time. At least, you think you don't. After the summer, you’re off to college, the first in your family to make it out of this town. But what about before that? The summer has just begun, surely you've earned some fun after years of pounding knowledge into your brain. You’ve earned this, deserve it, even. And Eddie seems more than willing to give it to you.

"You're right." You say simply. His grin somehow gets even wider. You contemplate what to say next, not wanting to give in to him so easily. You're smarter than that. You keep your expression stern, playing a game."You are an asshole." His face falls, and it hurts to see him look like that. You immediately regret that decision.

"Sorry." He turns away from you, grabbing a tape to rewind in the machine. "I guess I read you all wrong. I won't do that again." His tone is soft, sad. He's disappointed, and it's now that you realize he truly likes you. You never really thought about it that way, he always comes off so smug. You just wanted to toy with him the way he seems to do so with you. You have to fix this and fast, otherwise you've blown your chance.

"Oh jesus fucking christ, Eddie! If I would've known you liked me back like that, I wouldn't have said that. I was just messing around, teasing you back. You just act so damn smug all the time, I didn't want to give you the satisfaction so easily." You walk to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tenses for a moment, and then relaxes, sighing. He turns to you again, a smaller smile this time.

"You sneaky little shit. I ought to punish you for that." His hand comes up to hold yours. His ringed fingers rub gently over yours, the cool metal making you shiver again. He chuckles at your reaction.

"So do it then." You look into his eyes, you're the one smirking now. He just stares at you a moment, seemingly genuinely shocked to hear you say something like that. Then he once again starts grinning like an idiot.

"As you wish, princess." He says as he pulls you into him, smashing his lips onto yours. You kiss him back, biting his lip after a moment. He grunts slightly, letting you slip your tongue in his mouth. He guides you backwards until you're against the wall. His lips move to your neck. He licks a long stripe from your collar bone to below your jaw, making you moan. In response, he starts sucking and biting your neck, being spurred on further by any whimpers or whines you let out.

"Oh, Eddie." You moan out, causing him to stop a moment to look at you.

"I like when you say my name, darling." He resumes his work on your neck, on the other side this time. He also brings his hands up to grab your breasts. You are loving this, but you want more.

You push him away for a moment, and he looks at you, confused. "I just want to take this off." You say as you start to lift your top over your head. Eddie assists you, and strips himself of his own. You take a moment to look at his toned chest, his tattoos, and it makes you melt.

"Like what you see, princess?" You blush as he's caught you staring again. You snap out of your trance and pull him back to you, lips colliding again. You run your hands along his arms, up and down his chest. In turn he grabs your breasts again, massaging them gently. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He breaks away to lean down to your breasts. He kisses them sloppily and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

"Eddie!" You gasp, your hands going into his hair. He nips on your sensitive bud, making you whine, and then he moves onto the other one. Your hands travel down to his jeans, you can feel how hard he is for you. You palm him through the material, and his breath hitches slightly.

"Eager, are we?" He asks, slightly muffled against your chest. He lifts his head up, eyes meeting yours again. He takes a moment to look deep into them. He brings his right hand gently to your face, the thumb brushing across your cheek. His gaze makes you feel so exposed, nevermind the fact that you’re completely topless. This moment seems to last hours, but you could also stay like this forever. "I've always liked you, you know." He says finally.

"I can see that." You say jokingly, Eddie rolls his eyes. "I've always liked you, too. I wish we would've done this so much sooner." You look down, feeling even more exposed somehow. He lifts your chin to regain eye contact.

"Hey now, darling. Don't hide that pretty face from me. And technically speaking, we haven't started much of anything yet." His smile is light and kind this time. "And we don't have to rush into anything if you don't want to." He tries to search your face for an answer, as your mouth is stuck in place. "I'm gonna need you to use your words, Y/N. What do you want?"

You can't help but struggle to get the words out. "I want you, Eddie. All of you. Please?" You don't mean for that last part to sound so desperate, you know it just feeds his ego. But you can't help it. You've tasted Eddie and you want more.

"Then all of me you will get, dollface." He kisses you again, softer this time, slower. He moves you again, to the counter next to the rewinding machine, lifting you onto it. His tongue roams down your jaw, neck, chest, his body lowering with it. He's on his knees now, his hands making quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You lift yourself slightly so he can pull them down, along with your panties. "Well damn, princess. So wet for me already?" He gazes with wonder at your glistening pussy. You blush a bit at his words, almost reaching your hands up to hide your face. Eddie stops you, holding your wrists. "Don't try to hide from me, darling. Be a good girl for me." You felt yourself become wetter from his words, good girl. "You like when I call you that?" He looks up at you for confirmation.

"Yes, Eddie." You say, your voice is a little shaky.

"I'll keep that in mind." With that, he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, Eddie!" You cry out. Your hips buck slightly, but Eddie holds them down.

"I love hearing those beautiful noises from you, baby. But I don't think either of us want to get caught fucking on the job by Harrington, do we? Just try to stay quiet for me, okay?" You nod in agreement, biting your index finger to suppress your moans as Eddie resumes his work on your dripping cunt. He licks your entrance, occasionally inserting his tongue, moaning at how sweet you taste. You've had this done to you before, but that’s nothing compared to Eddie. He starts sucking on your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. His middle finger going inside you, pumping in and out at an agonizing pace. You moan and whine for him, and he's eating up every moment of it. He moans against your clit, the vibrations pushing you closer and closer. You're seeing stars when he puts in a second finger, curving and pumping them in and out expertly.

"Oh fuck, oh, Eddie!" You feel the knot inside you snap, and you release onto his face and fingers. You do your best to hold the scream back, your hand clasped tightly over your mouth. Your hips buck violently and your legs shake as you ride out your high. Eddie slides his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips as he stands up. You watch as he shoves them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean. He keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, and you can't help but feel soaking wet for him again.

"Mmm, you taste delicious, Y/N. And you were such a good girl for me." He says as his fingers leave his mouth with a pop. He kisses you once again, and you taste yourself on his bruised lips. You take this as your signal to stroke Eddie's cock through his pants to give him a turn. He groans slightly, moving to your neck to suck harshly on your flesh. You’re sure to have marks before he’s done with you. You start fiddling with his belt, and he stops. He moves your hands and helps you out, undoing the belt and zipper clumsily. He pulls his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free, hitting his stomach. Out of instinct, you slide off the counter and onto your knees. You grab the base of him, and take his head into your mouth. He groans again, and it’s quickly becoming your favorite sound.

"Mmm." You moan as you swirl your tongue around the head, your hand stroking the rest of him. You take him as deep as you can, surprising yourself when you fit him all the way in. He mutters curses under his breath as you bob your head on him, licking swirls around his length the whole time.

"Fuck, Y/N" He rasps. "Such a good girl for me." His praises make you more and more wet every time he utters them. You could hear them a million times, and be left wanting to hear them a million more. You can feel his balls tightening, he's so close to cumming. "Y/N, sweetheart. Stop or I'll cum." He says quietly. You remove yourself from him, standing up again. "You are a goddess at that, baby. But I have a feeling we'll both enjoy something else even more." He lifts you back onto the counter, slowly rubbing his cock against your clit and folds. You both moan quietly at this action, and he lays you down while kissing you. He pulls away, preparing to position himself. "Are you ready, darling?" He asks, seeming genuinely nervous about your answer. He truly wants to please you, but only if you let him.

"Yes, Eddie. Please, just fuck me already." Again, you sound so desperate, which you are. But you can't help but love the smirk he gives you in response.

"Anything for you, princess." And with that, he pushes into you, causing you both to groan at the sensation. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, trying to keep himself together, despite how perfect you feel around his dick. You kiss him passionately to signal him to start moving. And when he does, he starts real slow. Carefully pumping in and out of you, teasing almost. He's in no rush, he just wants you to feel comfortable.

"As amazing as you feel right now, Eddie, I need you to go faster." You look in his eyes, practically begging him to make you unable to walk for a week.

"Your wish is my command, Y/N." He begins to snap his hips, plunging into you at a punishing pace. He hits your g-spot easily and expertly. You moan his name over and over, feeling the knot rapidly forming again. He moans too, your name and the phrase 'good girl' falling from his lips. "Is it okay if I try something?" He asks while thrusting at almost inhuman speed.

"Yes, Eddie. Do whatever you want to me. I want it all." You beg, and he brings his ringed hand to your throat. He wraps around it gently, squeezing ever so slightly, gauging your reaction. You moan loudly in response, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes. He smiles at you, loving how willingly you submit to him. He loosens his grip on you, moving to stroke your breasts instead. You stop him, bringing his hand back up to your throat. "More, please. It's so fucking hot." You say to him, almost whining for him to continue choking you.

"I knew you were a kinky little freak, princess. I fuckin’ love it." He puts pressure on your throat again, making you feel lightheaded. The knot is threatening to snap any second now. You can tell he’s close, too.

"I'm so close, Eddie. Fuck me harder." You can't believe the things coming out of your mouth, begging him to have any way with you he desired.

"I’m right there with you, sweetheart. I'll give you anything you want. You're such a good girl. Cum for me." He says with a groan, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Despite this, he tries to keep up the pace to bring you down with him.

“Oh, fuck! Eddie!” You scream as your orgasm rips through you, the world around you exploding. Your walls clamp down onto him, and your thighs tremble outside of your control.

“Shit.” Eddie grunts when his own high overtakes him. His load spills into you, his hips bucking wildly against you in his final thrusts. He collapses onto you a moment later, panting heavily. You both lie here for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Eddie plants some grateful kisses on your throat as you come down from your highs. When he finally pulls out of you, he looks down to see your mixed release oozing from your cunt. “Jesus christ.” He mutters, his softened cock twitching at the sight. He’s unable to resist the temptation, and kneels down to clean you up with his tongue.

"Fuck!" You're still sparking from your last orgasm, and his cleanup efforts swiftly cause you to cum yet again, screaming his name and tangling your hands in his hair. The stars subside and Eddie stands upright to kiss your lips.

"You're such a good girl for me, darling. Let's get you dressed before Harrington busts us in here." He helps you to your feet, but you stumble as your legs feel like jelly. "Take it easy. I'll help you." He gathers your clothing and gently helps you put everything back on. Only then does he start dressing himself again. You almost whine at the loss of looking at his naked body, but you keep the lust at bay for now.

"So, what does this mean, Eddie?" You feel stupid for asking, this could just be a one-time thing for him. Another notch in the bedpost for the famous Eddie Munson. You pick at your fingers, looking down at the floor.

"What do you want it to mean?" He lifts your chin with his finger, wanting you to meet his eyes.

"Well, I'd like to do this more often with you. And maybe more...if you want." You feel so naked and vulnerable again, even though you're now fully clothed.

"What? Like a date? You wanna be my girlfriend?" He asks, his hand moving to your cheek again. You can't help but feel like he thinks it's a joke. He's hard to read when he smirks like that all the time.

"Yes. If you want to." You reply, trembling slightly. You can’t help being so nervous. Maybe this was all a mistake. He just said things you wanted to hear to get in your pants, and now he's toying with you again. He uses his hands to try to calm you down, rubbing your shoulders gently. He looks into your eyes with sincere care and affection, making your heart melt.

"You need to stop overthinking in there." He taps on your temple with his finger. He smiles calmly. "Of course we can do that. I'd love that more than anything." You smile at his words, throwing your arms around him. Your lips meet again, soft and tender. You can't believe it, you just fucked the baddest guy in town and you get to be his girlfriend. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and Eddie feels like he won the lottery. You keep kissing for a while, not wanting to stop living in this moment.

"Alright, guys. I don't know how much pot you've smoked, but if all those tapes aren't rewound by now I'm gonna-" Steve barges in the door, and his jaw drops at the sight of you kissing and groping each other. "Oh, for fuck's sake, you guys! I mean, I saw you two hooking up coming from a mile away. Shit, a blind man could do that. But why must it be here? Where I have to see you?” Steve scolds, continuing on his rant. “And goddammit, it reeks of sex in here! I'll need to get more air freshener. Not like I don't use enough covering Eddie's weed smell. Congrats on being cute and disgusting at the same time. Dammit! Do I need to babysit you, too? Just get yourselves together and get those tapes rewound!" He storms out, but you can still hear him muttering things to himself on the other side of the door.

You and Eddie look at each other, mouths open in shock. And then you burst out laughing, Eddie falling to the floor in a fit of cackling. And all you can think is that this is going to be the best summer of your life.

The end.

#hippiegoth97 #fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #hawkins #1980s #smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson one shot #family video #coworkers to lovers

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wintaerbaer · 1 month

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thinking about doing a teaser for twds 6 in the next week if people are still interested?

#i feel bad that it's taking so long lol #if people are not interested then that's fine too!#the story will get done one way or another because these are my BABIES #and it has been kind of nice writing without pressure so i appreciate the patience!#but if you're still interested in the story then let me know too #sometimes it can help the writer's block to remember that other people actually care and are waiting lol #writing update #fic: things we don't say

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caluupin · 2 days

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Father!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥

#caluuart #genshin impact #genshin #art #arlecchino #god she's just so. cool. pretty. ethereal. badass.#also I LOVE HER STORY QUEST SO MUCH!! I think it's definitely one of the best story quests in the game tbh.#wait uh arlecchino story quest spoilers below:#for one; the quest really gives even more depth to arlecchino's character. like yeah the whole thing is well. messed up.#it's an orphanage that raises orphans to be child soldiers after all. But it's also like. It's more.... humane? nicer? for the fatui anyway #which does bring me to the next thing. you know how arlecchino's like “if you're gonna leave the HotH you need to fight for it with ur life #I genuinely think that she's gonna just. straight up kill them. although it's not unlikely at all it turns out that (most of the time?) she #-just gives them a one trip to memory loss and set them free. which i do know it's kinda like death in genshin's lore but still.#I just find that pretty interesting.#also the cutscene where clervie says goodbye n stuff. It makes me cry EVERY TIME. ARGHHHH TRAGIC CHILDHOOD DOOMED YURI MY BELOVED :(((#clervie makes me so sad man. the fact that she just. accepts death. she really just let peruere kill her huh. crucabena when I fucking get #the hopelessness getting to her at that point. all attempts of freedom failed until that day..... GOD. and clervie finally getting closure-#-in the story quest as a spirit... I just..... man.........#on a lighter note :)#I got obsessed with a bloodborne OST LMAO. the uhh the lugwig boss theme. esp the sec phase one. it's SO GOOD. I first heard abt it in a-#-vid analyzing the ost musically. At the time i was like. woah. cool. what a cool sounding track. fast foward to like. a day before 4.6 #I'm watching a genshin theory video and I heard the music in the bg. I recognized it but I couldn't remember where I heard it from #UNTIL I REMEMBERED. and looked it up. And I have not known peace since. good music.#anw I've been rambling too much so yeah. gn my dear fellows!!

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unproduciblesmackdown · 11 months

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eddie bracken as orville wingait in summer stock (1950)

#don't get it wrong abigail whacking orville upside the head is during their comedy backstage 5 sec to Resolution ending rush #literal last minute conclusion crunch in unsurprising formatting lol; i chose a more peaceful gif to end on. note the prior one's [feet Up]#i hope this illustrates There Is Much Material. more clips than this & truly as good or better a role as any others to choose from here #summer stock #conveniently it's apparently wingait in the movie but via that casting news this (2023) role is wingate #tcm fancam life...we've all been there. akd talking abt meet me in st. louis like maybe i should rewatch lol. have to muddle through someho #anyways there's for sure room to like grab a little thread of plot and enhance it in this story. e.g. orville & abigail could talk Thrice #their B-plot / more idiosyncratic romance there is still >>>>>> the main JUDY & GENE one unsurprisingly even w/o a third convo lol #whoops the main guy is an asshole. judy/jane learns she loves show business so just kinda may as well be in love w/the show guy ig #like girl you don't have to be...but ofc already although her & orville's dynamic is pleasant enough she seems somewhat disinterested #while fascinatingly for our purposes though orville is framed a bit like [this NERD] he can't be too dunked on b/c [romantic B-plot]#meanwhile abigail's Undeserving Of Gene/Joe (she is but she's too good for him) qualities being just that she's been too Indulged so like #in her lack of protestant ethic farm work she's so conceited & sensitive that she wants to rest & not be yelled at???#smash cut to for real judy/jane on Opening Night like asking tentatively like oh romantic interest you're Not gonna yell at me..??#but she's been Hard Working so she will tolerate the physical AND emotional demands. but she's also more Talented than abigail #so joe need not be mean to her Anyways like. okay wild maybe we could rework that but congrats abigail for NOT ending up w/him fr #meanwhile orville's arc (joe has none to speak of save realizing he wants to make out w/this other woman now) is as clear as anyone's #extricate himself from otherwise only getting to be an extension of his father who is generally interfering / directing / demeaning him als #another ''well i don't know about that'' element in that when orville Does tell him to cut that out his dad actually just rolls with that #and becomes more amicable lol like well that does work out & it's unsurprisingly like cmon orv you can't LET him treat you like that...#and if you didn't? he'd just be like ''oh haha okay''...like is abigail supposed to be ''right'' abt uhh romance there but yet she's just #too sensitive to handle Tell Don't Ask / No Apologies? maybe; but they both end up getting to Not Stand For It lol. i think that that would #ofc still be fun to develop. whereas w/joe it's like uh maybe make him Not a huge asshole in the end / judy p much in love w/Showbiz....#abigail & orville out here decidedly Not About Nonsense....but still a bit zany ig such that after the [imagine the foley] hit: it's good #like i'm sure it's ''orville's still enough of a NERD to be chill w/that'' & ''abigail's still DIFFICULT enough to put her foot down''#['50 gender politics] we all know that couple whose flaws & idiosyncrasies allow them to Apologize & Ask & use their inside voices #and be all upset if someone's trying to demean them. unlike True Romance of the man who won't bully his wife if she earns it :')#joe could instead uhh be a harried director who's actually Wrong for being a dick to his gf (if we even include that) w/the various sources #of pressure to make a show Work but there's all this req'd spontaneity / flexibility anyways & he learns that even if he's clenching throug #it he can Not take it out on other people / Make it succeed by Making ppl do anything. & also jane reminds him of Passion for this.

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lunarharp · 2 years

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a random draft where i was ramblingg about witch hat & art to myself for myself :)

rare time i feel like actually going off about the thing i’m having fun with right now in more detail ... but not on twt where strangers might try to discuss back at me lol sorry but that is scary. (not that you even have the room to soliloquy on there)

i love how there's characters for varying types of artists to relate to. people like agott who have been adept at drawing from a young age but feel overwhelmed by feelings of not meeting their expectations. and are driven mostly by feelings of wanting to prove their worth..

people like oru who have always been around the art but now are burnt out from commissions and wondering just what they're drawing for... and ones i relate to the most personally like coco and qifrey, who started drawing at an older age to the skilled people around them. like coco i'm so happy that i'm in the world of drawing(/magic) now and excited every day but also weighed down by fears that i'll never get to what i where i need to be after starting at this late stage and also whether i'm really cut out for this....

and like qifrey i only started drawing after a narrow escape from trauma... i started drawing to make sense of what my life is now, just as he was invited by beldaruit to become a witch because it was the only safe path he could take. (although i've not been through anything quite like what he's been through... ouagh)

and there’s tetia who just wants to draw to make other people feel happy about what she’s made, to have fun, and spread hope and happiness and gratitude. who feels so happy whenever someone thanks her for what she’s created - i understand now how it feels to want to thank them for thanking her and how making art, when you get a meaningful response, can be a truly warm communal type experience. but you do need that response - her overwhelming happiness when the dragon thing was happy and she said it was the first time she’d ever felt fully appreciated for her magic and it made her soooo happy. she had been drawing until then, but it was the last puzzle in place to make her realise the breadth of what magic can be for her.

and riche who is determined to not lose the “her”-ness from her art, doesn’t want to learn new techniques and become more regular and orthodox in style if it means she feels she’s losing something... i get that!!! precious autistic-coded child... the ways we feel about our art differ depending on our own mental landscapes. hahhhh... shirahama said she began this series because she was having a conversation with artist friends about how it feels like drawing just really is magic. i mean..... it is.

i think writing feels like magic too, and i’m glad i can do both now. any creation is total magic. i’ve drawn scenes that were in my head and that’s let other people see them and if i can trust their comments about it, has moved them in some way or at least let them imagine a scene or a situation that they wouldn’t have imagined otherwise. but it’s different from just telling someone about it. when you draw something, or write something it really exists now - outside of you. THAT’S SO WEIRD.

i liked drawing a lot of takarazuka things (before i realised i got kind of burnt out drawing all this transcore stuff that people were not exactly responding to because it’s so niche and weird lmao) but drawing fanart for something that also ONLY exists in art is so special. it’s not acted by real people. like.. they’re just little people that someone drew and now i draw them too. total magic. and she gets up and draws them every day the same as me...

i love that a manga isn’t just art, it’s storytelling too. doing both writing and drawing at the same time - it feels like such a perfect and fascinating combination of skills and facets of creation. i’m better at writing than drawing, so i don’t feel like i can express my original stories well enough in comic form just yet. but i might just get there.

the world is so confusing and overwhelming and terrible every day. only creation is something i can understand. sometimes i can’t understand it - when i feel REALLY bad, it’s definitely like, what’s the point. and i wish i had more things to experience at present than just creation - i want to be outside and just feel and be as well as create. and at some point i’ll definitely stop posting my creations online. but creating has become something that i don’t need to understand the reason for it - so at those times when i wonder what the real point to any of this is.... lately, i usually still create anyway. just as you’d still breathe and sleep even though you’re hurt and confused by the horrors of the world. it’s becoming how i express myself. i find myself drawing pretty much every day because it’s part of how i make sense of shit now and i naturally want to do it. not doing it is painful.

i hope this magic continues. i hope it becomes far more wonderful than i can even imagine from here.

and i won't lose.

#things really are different if you start drawing in your mid/late 20s or onwards.#you haven't developed your idea of yourself as an 'artist' at the time your brain was developing your identity.#but reading something that is basically saying- it's not too late and you have your own magic that only youan do... is so heartening.#also the manga is very gay. it's not THAT shockingly original and fascinating a story- but like...#i just don't know many ongoing fun series with interesting lovable characters where there are also major representations #for disability race queerness etc.#esp if tetia is trans. shirahama-sensei you can tell me...#MOSTLY IM LOSING MY MIND AT WHERE THE SERIES IS GOING LIKE I AM SCARED. my theories are dark and i fear for qifrey SOMEONE HELP HIMMM..#ONCE AGAIN LET SOMEONE HLEP YOU YOU QUESTIONABLE AND TRAGIC GAY LITTLE SKIRT MAN #i hate that i had to just let my fic be so short. I CANT WRITE ANY MORE RIGHT NOW...i would have to make up so much plot stuff #bc orufrey CANNT happen they cant freaking KISS until so much is sorted out between them which requires the plot moving forward and..#AUGHHH !!!! sensei please just tell me what happens please please please please please please please please please #the next chapter looks hella plot-ful but STILL..it's going to take YEARS..i just want to know if qifrey IS GOING TO SURVIVE THIS SHIT !!!!#if the brimhats [redacted] then he'll [redacted] and THEN WHAT IF [redacted] has to [redacted] I FEEL LIKE SENSEI'LL DO THAT !!! SCARED #SURELLLY she'll have [redacted] have to [redacted] but i dont think shed go as far as [redacted] ??????#i plan to go to japan next year if possible anyway but what if it's too early for an anime-fuelled merch section in animate. please #this is like the first new and non-zuka thing i've been hyperfixated on for years. i need official qifrey and oru items. I need the items #once again i feel weird putting my personal feelings and theories on the internet to an audience of nobody but once again we will die.#am i going to be on my deathbed thinking 'oh i shouldn't have happily gone off about witch hat on tumblr that time how embarrassing' no.#do you know how worthwhile it is to enjoy something. and to basically avoid other fanworks for the most part so you're just surrounded #by your own pure and enjoyable feelings.#i actually went to a local queer art place yesterday and like. man i was very different to them but #there are people somewhat like me out there huh. somewhere. i'm going to make zines and art and express my world. even if just a bit.#literally why would you priv reblog something like this i think there is something wrong with you? i feel better about myself now #i will find the ones like me not the ones like you <3

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kimmkitsuragi · 5 months

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gale is becoming my poor meow meow. uh oh

#he suffered more than jesus... yes it was his own fault but still...#choosing companions is so hard because all them are really interesting and fun for me #i havent been able to spend a lot of time w shadowheart i wanna take her in sometime too #im rlly curious abt everyone's story even tho i got some spoilers for some of them lmaooo #it's like. when you learn some stuff ahead and you dont have enough context to really understand what it all means #so when you actually come to that point you're like. oh. oooooh..... lol #so i still feel like i dont know anything even tho i know some stuff #im going to bed early today i didnt play too much because i slept at 4am yesterday lmaoooo #so let's not too much today <3 #consequences of my own actions etc #playing bg3

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zincbot · 8 months

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i think it's fun to sprinkle a little personal issue into a dnd character, exaggerate it to make it that much easier to dissect

#dnd #it's been fun with my newest guy midas. cause they're probably the dnd character most different from me? that i've ever played #and the first long-term one who isn't a total sweetheart lol #with midas i'm trying to explore dysphoria beyond just the body #dysphoria with. feeling like who you are is intrinsically unlovable. feeling like you have to be something else to get it #it's really interesting.#my first pc. octo. a big part of his character was being an eldest sibling #who saw that trait as something essential to himself.#and also i made Octo someone who fears death in a way that lends itself to self-destruction in search of a solution #i was messy with octo. his story was about loss of voice. about tying yourself to someone too tightly. about digging your own grave #venna is still probably my favourite dnd character i've ever played. with her i was exploring innocence and the desire to do good #kindness in a world that was unkind. kindness in a Body that was unkind. being soft when you're built for violence #how everyone being deserving of life means you too #another one. west. i wish i cld have got to play them more. but that was about #losing ability as someone who prides themself on physical prowess.#not letting others see you hurting. running away from comfort.#essaie. trying to deal with a problem by yourself instead of asking for help.#and i gave him a guilt. knowing that something was your fault even if there's no evidence for it.#all of these traits and more exist within me but most of them are much smaller than they are in these characters #which is why i think it can be really nice to pull them out and explore them like this #ttrpgs are so special man

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simplyreveries · 3 months

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I ADORE YOUR WRITING!!

what about a reader who’s unknowingly flirting with the twst wonderland cast (specifically savanclaw, octanaville and diasomnia) because of culture differences and species differences?

e.g petting their ears, giving them gifts, smiling with teeth (bc for moray eels that’s how they mate 👀)

OR fem reader who has her period and some of the twst students can smell it I LITERALLY HAD A NIGHTMARE ABOUT THIS 😭😭😭😭

OMLL I APPRECIATE ITTT!!! sorry for the wait!!! i chose some from each dorm bc of my character limit btw!!

azul ashengrotto

despite how much azul continues to do his best to learn about life on land… relationships are certainly difficult for him to understand sometimes considering how long he has spent his life in the sea and though there are many similarities between merpeople… there are still some differences. once azul is rather close to you he does become unintentionally— clingy with you. (when you two officially get together that's another story) but he has a habit of wanting to lean close to you or have a hand on you in some way, like on the small of your back when showing you something in the mostro lounge.

so needless to say, he is in love with any sort of touch from you he takes that as some sort of hope and sign that you reciprocate how he feels haha. jade and floyd tease him ALL the time about it especially when he was struggling to keep his cool-headed composure after you once gave him a hug after he did something to help you once.

like I've said azul really doesn't think about it or even try to be this way around you he just does aljdfajdkhf. he’ll feel like a smitten fool as he sits in the vip lounge as he's doing papers and just think about how you playfully linked your arm around his to bring him somewhere. small things like that are actually quite big to him when it comes down to the differences.

jade leech

he's aware you probably don't know that you're unknowingly flirting with him, but he finds it amusing and plays along with you, nevertheless. he thinks it's cute that you don't know and all the more enticing, you’ll find him chuckling, trying to hide his grin with his gloved hand “oh my, I didn't know you liked me that much fufu” he’d say. you can't help but feel confused as to what he finds so interesting… like you literally just yawned.

it'll take him a while to actually tell you what it means since he finds the obliviousness to be quite cute. you only put two and two together when he tells floyd about what you did right in front of him and the two laugh about it. now you've got floyd teasing u about it..

like azul he is a little more affectionate just in a different more. in a less obvious fashion, though there definitely have been a few occasions where he likes to bring your hand to his lips and see your reaction, he finds it so amusing. he always has his teethy grin plastered on his face.

leona kingscholar

he hates the way he can always tell when you're wearing cologne or perfume and he hates that he likes it as well, he may or may not be a bit addicted to your scent. he literally can tell if you're near just because he knows the damn fragrance you use.

if you two are particuarly close... like him falling asleep around you and such. if you happen to pet his head and his ears, he immediately shoots you this look then mumbles something before being too tired to do anything about it or give you some retort. he just lets it happen... he does enjoy it anyway. slowly he kinda doesnt realize how clingy he can get with you because of it. he becomes a little needy and wanting more attention from you. he cant help it.... i mean you basically just showed him that you're fine with it anyways.

leona seems to be someone who can get pretty possessive, unintentionally too over you. kind of territorial, like if you're someone he has eyes for then he doesn't expect others to really get in the way of that.

malleus draonica

malleus is not only a fae but a pretty sheltered one too, I’d think he’d take almost anything from you as a sign of you being completely infatuated with him as he is with you. you could offer split your ice cream or invite him out somewhere, show any sort of interest in him as he talks about gargoyles as he’s doing single club activities. the one time you asked curiously and wanted to touch his horns, he’d be searching for the loveliest jewel to bestow you for your wedding day.

speaking of jewels… he gifts to you a lot especially after you give him anything first (it could be a cool rock you found) and he’d be so smitten and glad to reciprocate that by giving you earrings, rings, necklaces etc. and when you accept them even though you're not exactly fully understanding why he takes it even more as a sign of you accepting his advances.

after taking any of your little acts of being somewhat kind to him and he’s already so deeply into you, lilia would certainly be someone who hears just all about it. i think he would only feel happy for malleus, as it appears he must’ve found the right one. he is just supportive of malleus and is simply overjoyed to know he has some little human that makes him so happy.

lilia vanrouge

he has lived long enough and in different places to understands human courting's and more so than someone like malleus. he knows how different it is, trust me he is fully aware, but he thinks it's amusing. lilia pretends to take it the wrong way and watch you get all confused, when he's just being playful.

just cant help that he finds it so adorable when you unknowingly show him affections as a fae would in his culture. even just being slightly affectionate with him is enough to have him giggling and warning you to be careful to what fae you do that to. they do tend to take very kindly towards any affections and gifts!

lilia will straight up tell you though too, you could gift him and give him something neat you found or made, and he'd look up at you with a stupid grin like "kfufu... i accept your love, dear" NO???. he still holds onto anything from you with the utmost joy.

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purplealmonds · 10 months

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This is my tribute to the late Technoblade. I'm well over a week late to the anniversary of his passing, but I think it was worth the wait. I wanted to get this right.

The story I want to tell is of time's passage after his passing, and the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of various aspects of his life depicting that concept.

I have a lot more to say about this painting - three pages just for the symbolism alone. If you're interested, please let me know and I'll share my analysis on a separate post! Edit: I caved. Aight, prepare for a massive info dump below the cut!

DISCLAIMERS:

Although I put a lot of research into this piece, my knowledge is likely flawed and incomplete. If I missed or misinterpreted a reference, it’s because I’m new to the Technoblade community. If I got a symbolism thing wrong, it’s because I relied on Google search for answers. I fact checked where I could. And with this analysis, I hope I can clear up any misinterpretations!

—

OVERVIEW:

There’s lots of imagery to unpack so I’ll try parsing it in a structured manner. Let’s first examine it holistically.

The story I want to tell here is of time’s passage after Technoblade’s passing. As such,the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of that concept.

Prominently featured are the various medical equipments - a nod to the grim reality of his cancer. But let’s not linger upon that aspect of his story.

Of equal importance are the more mundane objects - his gaming setup, the couch and pillow which Floof sat upon in that one photo, the plethora of paraphernalia of branded merchandise, and references to his exploits in Minecraft. These are relics and mementos of his legacy.

All of these elements intermingle in flooded, lushly overgrown room looking out to a rose-tinted exterior. Is it dawn? Dusk? I’ll leave that interpretation up to the viewers.

The third and final component is the plant life representing his community -us. We beautify this metaphorical space with where it was once laden with tragedy. Yet, despite these riotous blooms, we never quite encroach on the bed - the empty space left behind by him.

—

SET DRESSING:

Much care was taken in selecting the blossoms and placing them in symbolically significant locations. And this neatly transitions us into the analysis individual details.

Foreground:

In the foreground, ivy crawls through a lamp and white clovers thrive atop a pile of pillboxes. The lamp base, once a shining bronze-like finish, is heavily tarnished. The lampshade is overgrown with moss and ivy. Even if the greenery has yet to damage the electric wiring, the damp surely has finished the job. Even if the bulb is replaced, the body is too far gone. The light’s never coming on again.

I was initially put out that my painstakingly 3D modeled pillboxes became entirely obscured, but I think it works in favor of the piece’s overarching theme: the beautiful wilds overtaking a space that once reeked of the desperate fight to prolong life.

White clover blossoms meaning “thinking of you” is paired with the ivy meaning “everlasting devotion”. It’s an apt combination. It has been over a year since his passing, and we still remember and carry on his legacy.

Nestled amongst the foliage is Techno’s compass. It was once used to hunt him down in the Dream SMP. But now, it’s an odd comfort. Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still somewhere far, far away– or is he? The original idea was for the needle to point heavenwards, but it is currently pointing…sideways? I’ll get to the reasoning a bit later.

The Flood:

Moving deeper into the space, we hit the floodwaters. These once turbulent currents are now tranquil enough to nourish this verdant place. The thriving plant life hides much of this darkness. It is beautiful, hopeful, even. But always bittersweet, because everything that grows here is laced with an old sorrow.

White lotus rise from the murky depths. That is us, overcoming our grief. Breaching the surface, we gain a new vantage point to contemplate this loss. Perhaps we can also find a more comforting perspective of it.

Submerged amongst the blossoms is a rusted oxygen machine. I wanted to decorate the machine with stickers, much like one would personalize a plaster cast for a broken limb. It is deliberate that the “Technoblade Never Dies” sticker is in shadow, while the “So Long, Nerds" is in light.

Immediately to the right was meant to be a box of assorted Technoblade apparel. But then I flooded the space for narrative reasons, rendering that idea unusable. I eventually converted it into a Welch’s Fruit Snacks box, because apparently Technoblade liked them? It’s one of the shallower references here but it is what it is.

And finally, there is a little cameo floating somewhere in the waters. An Easter egg, if you will. I wonder if you can find it?

Furnishings from Home:

I found the couch and Technoblade’s gaming setup during my trawl through the Technoblade Reddit page for reference photos. Balancing this space full of impersonal medical equipment with more personalized belongings is grounding. These areas insert familiarity in this strange environment.

Gaming Setup:

The gaming setup is bare bones - just the monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was no space to add more iconic elements like his Blue Yeti microphone or the steering wheel from that Minecraft challenge. Hanging above but heavily obscured by overgrowth are two framed pictures of Technoblade’s cabin and a potato minion. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it detail, placed in a dim space and requiring close examining to notice. Without the context of the rest of this environment, it is easily mistaken as generic set dressing.

That’s the point, though. This was a space where he streamed and created videos much beloved by his community. This space was the means of creation, not the creations themselves. Without the creator at the helm, this setup becomes insignificant. Does one dote over the easel on which paintings were created, or the paintings themselves? So now it sits in darkness, a footnote of Technoblade’s legacy.

Nostalgia Corner:

On the other end, we have the sold out Youtooz plushies and the Agro Pig plush from the recent merch drop sat atop the couch. If you look closely, you’ll see a Skeppy coin leaning against one of the plushies. Behind the couch is a shelf. A generic shelf, but the important bits here are the sellout bell, Youtube plaque, and vinyl figurines.

This corner of the room is nostalgic and soft. Everything is bathed in rosy pink light, and it is filled with things that are comfortingly familiar. All across the world, people in his community have these pieces of merch to remember him by.

The red poppies that also grow here have multiple meanings. It represents the battle - one against sarcoma - which was fought here. It symbolizes death, but also resilience in the face of grueling conditions. It is said that they grow in former battlefields where of fallen warriors. I believe of all the flowers here, this one best represents Technoblade.

The Hanging Mobile:

Strung up above it is a rather last minute addition to the environment - a hanging mobile fabricated from totems representing each member of the Sleepy Bois Inc. friend group. First and foremost is Technoblade’s iconic MCC crown, aptly placed at the top. Although it is untouched by the greenery, the gold and jewelry are somewhat muted and tarnished by time.

This is not the case for the objects below. TommyInnit’s music disc shines iridiscent green and purple - Cat and Mellohi merged into one. To is right is a sky-blue guitar pick with the LoveJoy logo engraved onto it for Wilbur Soot. And finally, below it all is Philza’s Friendship Emerald - sparkling and refracting light - with Elytra feathers fastened at the bottom. They, suspended and isolated from everything, maintain a pristine vibrancy which strongly contrasts against everything else in this space.

IV Stand:

Next to the computer setup is the IV stand. It sustains life which is incapable of continuing on without intervention. The butterfly milkweed growing on it, in contrast, says “let me go.” The latter, overtaking the tangle of tubes and powered off patient monitor, is victorious. The hooks stand rusted, and the IV bag empty from disuse.

Sat atop the patient monitor but almost blending into the walls is a pig figurine featured in Dream’s latest music video. It stands on a high perch, yet is unassuming as to direct focus on Technoblade, or rather, his absence.

Hanging from the wired basket is an air freshener tag. If you look on the official website, this is one of the only products which has what I can only call interesting flavor text. Most are merely descriptions and specs of the product. To quote it verbatim:

“Yes, this is a real product. And no, this ‘air freshener’ has no discernible fragrance. ‘Why’ you ask? Because Mr. Technodad and our team agreed this was exactly the sort of air freshener Alex would have found hilarious.”

As morbid as it sounds, I feel like this air freshener tag would not have existed before Technoblade’s passing. It is so unlike any other merchandise I’ve seen in any other branded merchandise store. It’s like an inside joke, secretly shared within the descriptions for the world to eventually discover.

Window:

Unlit candles line the window sill - the aftermath of a candlelight vigil. It is a versatile symbol. It raises awareness of a disease or illness. It pays tribute the dead. Judging from the melted wax dribbling down the candle shafts and the wall below (the opacity was reduced so it looks less like bloodstains), this has been done many times over. But there is so much more candle to burn, representing the people still continuing this ceremony, albeit in the privacy of their own homes.

Above the candles are some broken blinds. When grieving, it would have been so easy for Mr. Technodad to hide away from the world in his grief. It’s understandable, to give into that primal urge to flee from prying eyes when he’s at his most vulnerable. He had the difficult task of reading out his son’s final farewell to us. This barrier between him and us dismantled by this gesture so we can remember Technoblade together.

Coincidentally, the window frame itself somewhat resembles the kitchen window featured in Technoblade and Technodad's cooking videos. Completely unintentional on my end, but fitting in a way since in both those videos they're pulling back the metaphorical curtains for the audience to peer into a small aspect of their private lives.

To the right of the window is a nondescript clock, forever stopped at the 6:30 as a nod to the date when the "So Long, Nerds" video was published. The minute hand is accidentally left out removed to signify that time will no longer move forward for Technoblade. In contrast, the rest of the world - represented by this space - continues to grow and change around his absence.

A wind chime hangs just outside the window. It is said that the soothing sounds produced by them is a healing balm during tumultuous times. Where there is wind there is stirred up emotions, but it is motionless on this calm, breezeless day. A rare respite, where remembrance overrides grief.

On a more amusing note, there is an interesting looking moth perched on the window glass. Upon closer inspection, the wing pattern may look somewhat familiar. In Chinese culture, when a huge moth visiting your home is the embodiment of your recently deceased loved one checking on you. Remember the compass in the foreground? Well, here’s why it is pointed sideways instead of upwards. This idea came up rather organically during a VC session in the R/Technoblade Discord server. My handful of viewers and myself affectionately dubbed this doofy looking moth TechnoMoff!

Venturing further beyond the windows, ferns grow with wild abandon. They represent eternal youth, and from a certain point of view, he will remain youthful forever at the age of 23. He lives on through us carrying on his legacy and spreading his story.

Everything outside is tinged with pink. After someone dies, we start seeing them less as a person and more as a legacy. It is the natural course of things to start seeing the deceased through rose-tinted lenses - hence the artificially pink hue of the outside contrasting with the more grounded color palette of the inside.

Bed:

And now we circle back to the centerpiece of this entire composition: the bed and the things that surround it.

In front of the bed is an over-bed table with a single object: an incense bowl filled to the brim with burnt sticks of incense. A simple shrine for Technoblade. In Chinese culture, we light incense at the altar to honor our loved ones. We may live separate lives and not cross paths often, but we all come together to leave our marks through this ritual. It is proof that he is still very much loved and missed by us all.

The bariatric bed frame is typically seen in hospitals. It allows the patient to comfortably sit up or recline without expending valuable energy. Encased in this frame is something more personal - the mattress and cushions which Technoblade laid upon in his photo with the Youtube plaque. Their unique patterning is a foil for the impersonal receptacle it is caged in. It is spotlit by the window light, emphasizing its emptiness. Not a single blossom dares to encroach upon this space, because to do so would be to erase the space where Technoblade last resided. Like I mentioned before, this is story is about the space around him as much as it is about him.

Cradling this bed frame are several flowers. Rosemary and forget-me-not’s for remembrance. Appropriate, given its proximity to the bed. Morning glories, for resilience. That’s us, again. For a while, we meander and spread in the upper walls of this space, avoiding the floodwaters which symbolize grief. But eventually, we gather the strength to meander down to the bed, where grief was the strongest.

—

CONCLUSION:

There is that cheesy quote from that one Marvel TV show – “What is grief, but love persevering?” While this reframes our perception of dealing with loss, grief is not some thing that should linger. The absence of grief does not equate to the lack of love. Instead, I would like you to consider this: remembrance is love persevering. And with our combined perseverance, Technoblade will never truly die.

#technoblade #Technoblade never dies #Technoblade fanart #techno fanart #sleepy bois inc #tommyinnit #philza #wilbur soot #qsmp chayanne #skeppy #dream #mcyt #mcyt fanart #fan art #purplealmonds #2023

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somejazzinthemorning · 8 months

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playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there��s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

#Carlos Sainz #Carlos Sainz Jr #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Carlos Sainz x You #Carlos Sainz Smut #Carlos Sainz Fanfic #Carlos Sainz Imagine #Formula 1 x Reader #Formula 1 x You #F1 x Reader #F1 x You #F1 Imagine #F1 One Shot #Driver x Reader #F1 Driver x Reader #Driver x You #F1 Driver x You #F1 Fanfic #FanF1ction

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callmerainman · 3 months

Text

Alastor with a pure hearted s/o

a/n I'm fully aware that Alastor is aroace. My scenarios are meant to be interpreted as a deep, unconditional love, not necessarily romantic. I'm not aroace but I'm all for educating myself, so please if something's off let me (gently) know. Hope you enjoy :)

TW! canon typical violence

being a twisted person is not a requirement to reincarnate in Hell. Sins depend on religion, culture, societal norms. You were more of a victim, in fact.

you never got used to being in Hell. Surviving not only the Extermination but also the inhabitants becomes harder and harder every year.

it's kill or be killed, but you just can't bring yourself to do any harm to anyone, even if it means risking your own life.

as soon as you hear about princess Charlie Morningstar's new hotel for souls who want a second chance, your bags are PACKED

it's not like you really need redemption, you are pure hearted already. it's more a matter of understanding the reasons why you ended in Hell and coming to terms with them. maybe then the gates of Heaven would open for you. it's also a safer place for you to be.

Charlie welcomes you excitedly; Angel Dust, Husk and Vaggie aren't that friendly at first since your personalities don't match, but they eventually grow fond of you

and then there's, well...the Radio Demon.

you never met an Overlord before, and Alastor was supposed to be gone for years. But his presence wasn't frightening. A big smile spread across his face, he welcomed you like a gentleman.

you heard stories about his lifestyle and even previous murderous acts as a human, but for some reason you just can't bring yourself to fear him.

at first you were kinda pathetic to him. so naive, out of touch with the evils of Hell. he didn't dislike you. just thought your life was so easy to throw away in a society like that and that you wouldn't last long.

it seems like you two don't have much to share. he just wanders in his den, while you spend time in your room. you greet each other and have small talks, but nothing more than that. that's until he hears jazz music play behind your door.

he mentions it during dinner, and you start talking about your interest in 30s jazz music, especially the one of the Roaring 20s. you come from a later era, but you're very much cultured about jazz and its forms and that's enough for Alastor to develop an interest in you.

he has so many jazz artists recommendations, and you share some of your favourite pieces with him through your gramophone.

without even noticing, Alastor starts spending hours in your room just listening to music. some time even practicing swing dancing. and talking about jazz culture all around the world, and entertainment in general. he has many fun facts about the history of radio too!

the others at the hotel notice your growing bond and low-key support it, in their own, weird way. Angel Dust is especially convinced that you two are hooking up, as Husk not-so-kindly explains that it's more likely for Alastor to ascend to Heaven than express interest in sex.

you would start to open yourself up a bit to the Radio Demon. he doesn't understand why, since it didn't ask or never showed much empathy. but he just can't bring himself to tell you to stop. he wants to listen.

you manage to make him talk about some glimpses of his own life and thoughts. you knew that he was the complete opposite of you. incline to Evil, an enjoyer of all things that made your stomach clench. but he's still the one person who spends hours with you just listening to both jazz and your fears.

one day, Alastor decided that in no way you are walking around the city without him. it's just too dangerous for you. he tries to teach you how to use weapons and demonic powers to defend yourself but he doesn't feel like you can make it into Hell by yourself.

you like strolling through the streets with him, arms intertwined, chatting and laughing even if demons around you are shitting their pants just by seeing the Overlord walking around.

but one day, Alastor can't find you.

you're not in your room, or in the Hotel hall. No one saw you that morning. He starts to feel something he never felt in his life: fear.

he darts out the Hotel, trying to find you. that's when he sees you just a few streets away.

a group of animal-like demons is encircling you. you are on your knees, arms over your head to protect yourself. A lion-demon is holding a knife over you and your arms are covered in cuts. you hold something close to your stomach.

that's when Alastor realized that he had feelings for you.

when he threw himself between you and the demons attacking you.

it's the first time you see Alastor without a smile. his teeth are gritted, face full of unprecedented violence and will to kill, breathing heavily in and out in a sort of animalistic way, but there's no trace of his characteristic smile you love.

his body starts to morph into his full demon form. his horns grow exponentially, his body too as it hovers menacingly on top of your aggressors as they start to feel a pure fear they never felt before.

in a matter of a second, they are gone. Alastor has always been a calculated, elegant killer, but this time he only felt a raw, ferocious instinct to kill.

as he's done, he turns around towards you. he doesn't want to, but he snaps.

"W̶̞̐H̷̻͒Y̷̰̅ ̶̠͛D̸͕́I̸͔̍D̴̿͜ ̷̯̇Y̶̭͌Ỏ̴̬U̵̖̍ ̷̛͎Ģ̷̕O̸̩͑ ̷̹̈́O̶̮͆U̸͍̇T̴̙͆ ̷̧̀W̴͓̅I̷̞͑T̸̗͒H̴̹͒O̴̺̓Ṷ̵̂T̵̺̚ ̵̢́M̴̜̅E̶̬̋?̸̻͋!̸̦͂"

you flinch, you never saw Alastor lose his composure. he was always so calm and collected. his voice was static, choppy.

the tears that were cornering your eyes start streaming down your face "I-I..."

"Ţ̶̈Ḧ̴͙́Ė̵̩Ỳ̷̳ ̷̳̒Ã̸̡L̷̛͚M̶͇̚O̸͈̔S̴̜̎T̸͚̊ ̷̤͝K̷͊͜I̵̺͝L̵͚̎L̴̤̆Ẽ̴͖D̶͍̈́ ̵̻͝Y̵̰̑O̸̜͘Ù̶͍!̵̻͝ ̸͓̾D̴̯͒O̶̅͜Ṉ̶̌'̷̹͒T̵͎͋ ̶̺́Y̴̹͂O̶͍̅U̴̘͌ ̵̘̾Û̷̪N̸̩̊D̵͎̋Ȅ̴͜R̵̮͂S̸̰̄T̸̝̅A̵͓͘N̷̩͂Ḏ̴̀?̵̗̍!̸̭̎"

suddenly, your bleeding arms fall from your head. you expose what you've been protecting all along.

a vinyl, a really old record from Alastor's favourite jazz artist. a rare find.

"I-I know but...tomorrow it's your death anniversary and I wanted to give this to you...as a surprise. I'm sorry"

Alastor's face immediately softens. Eyebrows raised, smile still not seen. He's just surprised and...moved.

He doesn't say anything, he just picks you up in his arms and takes you back to the Hotel where he bandages your arms.

Feeling guilty for putting yourself in danger, you ask Alastor to come to your room in order to apologize to him.

As he closes the door behind him, he says that there's no need to apologize.

"I'm...glad that you are still in your room. Listening to jazz, alive"

words didn't come easy, but he did feel the need to say it. you smile at him.

you propose to put his gift on the gramophone and so you do. music starts to flow between the small space you shared with the Radio Demon.

that's when you and Alastor start slow dancing. his arms around your waist, yours encircling his neck. his smile is back, but soft and...almost loving.

with his silent agreement, you reach for his cheek and graze it.

"Thank you for saving me, Alastor. Even if you are everything I distance myself from in this life...I'm glad you are the person that you are with me. In my next life, I'll make sure to be a sinner again if it means dancing with you like this"

Alastor now understands his feelings. It's something deeper than care. It's love. But not the same love you reserve to a friend and not even romantic. It's something deeper, more visceral.

He doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and leans in to press his forehead against yours.

you later fall asleep on your bed to the quiet sound of the gramophone playing, hands intertwined on Alastor's chest.

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #alastor x reader #alastor x reader headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #writers on tumblr #headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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ozzgin · 3 months

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A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”