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violetrainbow412-blog · 11 months

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A (not so) little secret

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

Summary: even though you and Spencer have kept yours private pretty well, one night the universe seems determined to let everyone know.

warnings: established relationship but still secret, a mention of sex, and some references. I think that's all

The sound of the phone ringing pulled you out of your sweet and recent dream and when you opened your eyes you needed a moment to get your bearings. You were on a soft bed, a thin sheet covering your half-naked body, and the room smelled of lavender emanating from a humidifier. When you moved a bit you collided with a warm lump and that was the piece to finish building the scene: you were at Spencer’s house. You opened your eyes and that's when you saw that it was the purple phone on the nightstand that was ringing, next to the alarm clock with bright letters that said 4:00 am.

You had ended up in the man's apartment after a long day at work with the promise of ordering food at home and resting for a while, but at some point the kissing on the couch escalated to ending up in bed; it wasn't something you complained about, of course. He always took care of making you feel so good and had a resistance that came to surprise you, so you enjoyed each other for a long time. You were a little sore (in a good way) and exhausted by the end, but the thought that you would be able to rest up late the next morning had comforted you greatly. You would have fallen asleep barely two hours before then, but since the noise didn't seem to disturb your boyfriend's sleep and you were closer to the device, you decided to reach out to pick up the call.

"Hello?" you sighed sleepily. You couldn't imagine who could want something at that hour, although the fear that it was a call from Bennington Sanitarium about Diana's health made you think it would be irresponsible not to answer.

"Reid?" asked the voice on the other end of the line and you recognized it immediately.

"Hotch?" you murmured, a little more lucid. As soon as the last name was out of your mouth, you realized how stupid you'd been to answer instead of waking Spencer up for him to answer. It was your boss, calling the landline of one of his agents, and it turns out that it was you who had answered.

“Y/L/N?” he spoke again, sounding confused. "Are you with Reid?"

You were silent for a second as panic washed over you, your brain working at full speed to think of what to say.

“Huh… yes. I didn’t feel very well and he said that I could stay here” you confessed. Technically it was the truth, although you preferred to spare yourself the intimate details.

Even though it wasn't a crime to go out with unit mates, if it was a little… how can I put it? Immoral maybe? It could take away from your objectivity in cases and it was definitely a distraction at work, but when it came to Spencer Reid, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help it.

You had already been together for a few months. You realized you had feelings for him after he offered to stay with you for some days in the hospital to care for the gunshot wound that grazed your shoulder during an unfortunate event. It was so nice to be under his care, he brought you delicious food all the time, every day he bought new flowers for the next vase and always made sure you were comfortable.

Probably the daily stress had clouded your vision a bit, but in an environment so far removed from all your work, it was when you realized how wonderful Spencer could be, and let's be honest, men like that don't grow on trees in droves. It didn't take long for you to buy him a drink, just to thank him for all he'd done for you, but then the dates became recurring. One night the two of you finally talked about what you wanted for your future and then decided to start something formal.

At first it was easy to hide it in the office, after all no one would have reason to suspect anything. Morgan was annoying sometimes, thinking that he was the only one who noticed how you looked at each other, but the others hardly noticed. The problem was when, over the months, the connection between you strengthened romantically and physically, coupled with the sweet nicknames with which you called Spencer in private that on more than one occasion almost slipped from your lips.

By this point you were enjoying being with him so much that you honestly didn't care what the team might think about the relationship, you thought hiding it was more of a habit than a necessity, but you didn't know if Spencer felt the same way. You hadn't really needed to talk to him about it, at least not until now.

“Okay, then tell him that something urgent came up. I need you both to come to the office as soon as possible because in a few hours we are flying to Boston."

"Okay, we'll be there"

"Fine"

The communication was cut off there and when you turned after hanging up the phone you noticed that Spencer had already woken up, probably by the sound of your voice having a chat. He looked so cute and sleepy that you couldn't help but caress his face with your palm to help him wake up.

"What's going on?"

“It was Hotch. They need us in the office”

"I figured," he grumbled, stretching a little to shake the numbness out of his body.

“He realized that I am here. I'm sorry"

"It's okay, love. Don't worry about it,” he said, totally calm, as he stood up and gave you an absent-minded kiss on the cheek. He got up and started rummaging through the closet for something decent to wear over the black boxer shorts he was wearing, while you rubbed your face with your open palms "How do you feel?"

"Tired" you laughed, unconsciously covering your torso with the sheet. You still didn't feel confident that he would see you naked for so long, even though you had already had sex on considerable occasions "So you're not angry?"

"Angry? Why should I be?"

"Because he knew I'm here" you answered softly and he stopped what he was doing to look at you. You knew it took Spencer a few minutes to fully wake up, though he seemed quite conscious as he knelt on the side of the mattress you were on so he could speak. "I mean… do you think we're going to get in trouble?"

"I don't think so" he replied, as one of his hands slid down your bare leg to rest on your knee "Does it bother you that he knows?"

"No, no. I'm just… I'm worried that he'll send us to different departments”

“Just because we're dating? He would never do that” Reid laughed, finding your panic a little cute “He would lose his best agent”

"Are you referring to you or are you referring to me?"

"Applies to both" he replied quickly. You thought he would be more reluctant about the matter, so you practically took a load off your mind seeing him so calm by your suggestion “Actually I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Garcia and Kevin had no problems with their relationship so… why would it be any different with us?

"Because they weren’t in the same unit"

"So you don't want to try it?" he asked, sounding a bit dejected. Apparently it was a subject on which he had previously reflected.

“Of course I do, Spence. If you want to do it, then so do I" you assured him. He looked at you with some admiration and smiled happily, feeling satisfied with the answer “So it's a fact? Shall we just say it, just like that?” you muttered nervously.

Spencer took a few seconds and you could almost see the gears of his brain working behind his front.

“First we can talk to Hotch and explain the situation. Then there will be an opportunity to tell the others."

"Good"

“But we can discuss that another time, okay? for now just… get dressed. Not that I'm jealous, but I wouldn't want to see you walking around in nothing but your panties”

"Perhaps you would like it, what you would not like is for others to see me" you argued, managing to get a giggle out of him before he got up to continue with what he was doing.

It didn't take long for you guys to get ready, and considering it was early morning, Spencer rummaged through his closet for a hoodie he could fit you into, even though you'd refused. You didn't even bother to dress up, you just tied up a messy ponytail and walked out of the place like that.

Normally you arrived at the office at different times, almost always the fifteen minutes between each subway schedule, but you thought that right now that was the least important thing. Although he didn't like to drive, he let you sit in the passenger seat of the light blue car that he only used in very necessary cases.

During the journey you got distracted looking at the city lights and at some point these lulled you so much that you ended up asleep against the seat. Spencer made sure to drive more carefully and avoid potholes, until he parked outside the FBI building. When he stopped and looked at you so peacefully, he wished he could just leave you like this, even though he knew everyone was probably already waiting for you inside.

Despite the urgency that the situation required he took a moment to look at you, feeling his chest swell with love. A part of him was guiltily glad you'd answered that call, because for the past week he'd wanted to talk to you about stopping keeping things secret and that had given him the perfect excuse. He wanted to have more moments like this with you, not just limit himself to giving you his love imprisoned by the four walls of an apartment.

“Hey,” he called to you in a small voice, when he finally snapped out of his trance, leaning down to stroke your arm hoping you'd react “We're here, pretty. Wake up"

You let out a groan, clearly not wanting to leave, and when you opened your eyes you felt your eyelids completely heavy. By way of persuading you, Spencer reached up to kiss your lips, in a prolonged and loving way that helped you remove all traces of sleepiness.

Inside the car you were oblivious to anything, without knowing that a person had been watching everything with their mouths open. Emily Prentiss practically ran to get to the office before you did and once she entered she desperately searched for the rest of her coworkers, finding Morgan, Garcia, and JJ talking to each other.

“Prentiss. where in such a hurry?

"You won't believe what I just saw," she said, without even saying hello, and the three of them stopped talking to pay attention to her, after all the tone warned them of a sure gossip "Reid was kissing a girl in his car"

“Spencer?” Garcia said, sounding incredulous but also excited.

"Yeah! I was getting out of my car when I saw him park with a girl in the passenger seat and then he leaned over to kiss her. Do you think she’s his girlfriend?

“Maybe we interrupted him in the middle of an adventure. Poor boy,” Morgan laughed, feeling sorry for his younger friend.

“I didn't get a good look at her face, but she was wearing a hoodie like… grey? I think so, it was grey."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the elevator opening and the three of them turned to see who it was. There was Hotch, of course, Rossi next to him, and behind both of you were Spencer and you.

"Thank you all for coming. Let's go to the meeting room” your boss announced, not stopping his walk and waiting for the rest of you to follow. Everyone ignored Rossi's greeting as Emily's eyes widened and she jerked her head in your direction, as if trying to make out some feature. JJ nearly choked on her own saliva when she noticed your gray hoodie, while Penelope and Derek shared a knowing look at the obviousness of it all.

You two didn't even notice what the rest were up to, so before long the whole team was already seated at the round table. It was a custom not to sit next to Reid, partly so you wouldn't be tempted to touch him, but also so you could look at him all the time.

When JJ started giving you the details of the case you were fighting to keep your eyes open, feeling disgusted and worried about the serial killer you had to profile this time, but also completely exhausted. Spencer's hoodie felt so comfortable that you hugged yourself hoping for some comfort, and then you noticed that he was looking at you. You smiled at him from where you were, wishing you could sit on his lap to listen to the rest of the meeting, while he circled his index finger on the left side of his chest, where his heart was. It was a sign he had adopted to let you know you were there. Derek, who was next to him, watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself. Several times he had noticed his coworker doing that but until now he could understand why.

“We're leaving for Boston in an hour, just pack your bags and come back here. We'll better build the profile on the jet,” Hotch announced, and most nodded as he got up from their seats. Except for you, who leaned your cheek against the table.

"It's honestly not how I planned to spend my Saturday morning," Penelope complained, pouting in disappointment.

"Well, neither do I, but this isn't paperwork that can wait for Monday”

"Are you alright, lover boy?" Morgan asked now, paying attention to Reid's hunched posture. "You look like you're going to pass out at any moment”

"We didn't sleep well"

"We?" Prentiss pointed out accusingly. Spencer frowned at her, not noticing his mistake, but when he finally did, nerves invaded him.

"I meant me. I didn’t sleep well. I had… some things to do”

Yes, things.

"Huh, I see," she scoffed, not believing him one bit. That he had spoken in the plural and you were in the same condition only gave the team the confirmation they needed.

You had spent the night together.

"See you in a bit," Rossi said goodbye and the rest soon left through the same door as him. Only when Spencer made sure no one around did he come up to you.

"How come you can fall asleep anywhere?"

“It's my superpower. You're a genius, I have this” you teased, hearing your boyfriend giggle before taking a seat next to you. Once he was there, he started stroking your back gently, as if he wanted to comfort you.

"I take you home?"

"If there is no other option" you sighed, getting up from your comfortable position only to lean against his chest in a hug. Spencer loved physical contact, so he didn't put up the slightest resistance. "Have you ever thought what it would be like for us if we had normal jobs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Outside the FBI"

"Do you want to quit?" he asked, feeling alarmed, but you shook your head against his chest.

"No, is not that. I love this unit. I only asked myself if it would be easier if we worked on something... I don't know, less demanding, that would allow us to have days off or that it wouldn't take us out of your apartment at 4 in the morning. Something safer”

"If that were the case, we wouldn’t have met"

“Did you always want to be an FBI agent?” you asked, raising your head so you could look at him. Your eyes looked bright in the light from the room, something Spencer couldn't ignore.

"Not always. There was a time when I wanted to be a cowboy”

"A cowboy?" you laughed, but with no intention of mocking. Of all the occupations that was the one you had least imagined for a mini-Reid "Well, you know what they say, save a horse..."

You expected him to complete the sentence, but seeing him scowling because he clearly didn't understand your country reference was enough to make you laugh and ask him to just forget it.

"And you? Did you always want to be an agent?”

"No," you said immediately. You had thought about it many times “When I was little I wanted to be a vet”

“A cowboy and a vet. That doesn't sound so far-fetched, maybe one day I would have even called you to take care of one of my animals."

"And then I would have fallen in love with the gorgeous cowboy Mr. Spencer Reid" you smiled, looking affectionately into the pretty eyes of the aforementioned "Can you imagine?"

"Maybe we really were already destined"

You liked to believe so. You liked to think on a daily basis that as horrible as being a profiler could be, every decision in your life had been worth it just to get to know people like your coworkers. That the world wasn't so horrible if it had allowed you to have a boyfriend as wonderful as the man in front of you.

"You're the best I have, you know that?" you exclaimed without hesitation "The best" you repeated and Spencer pulled you back into a hug just to avoid the embarrassment of you seeing his slightly moist eyes. Your face was leaning comfortably against him and your ear enjoyed the soft beat of his myocardium “I like to hear your heart”

“Did you know that a study showed that two people's heartbeats can be synchronized when they are in love?”

When he told you this, your ear was pressed against his chest and your hand went up to your neck to press it on the pulse line, paying attention to the rhythm of both of you. You smiled widely when you saw that, as always, your boyfriend was correct.

“And if one day we part ways? Will we keep beating at the same time?”

“I don't know, but I don't plan on checking either,” he assured you. Spencer really did see a future with you, and you inevitably did the same.

Before you got up you made sure to kiss him nicely on the lips and you left the boardroom hand in hand, arguing over which of your departments you would go to first. You didn't count on the fact that JJ would still be at the entrance, that when you arrived she looked at your perfectly intertwined hands.

"Hi," you said nervously, both of you letting go as a reflex, "Why haven't you left yet?"

“I need to close the door. I have the keys” she smiled. It was obvious, but you had forgotten it because you were chatting.

"Huh, yeah. We are very sorry. See you in a while"

"Good trip," she said, with the most teasing smile she'd ever given you.

You two rushed out of there and when you got to the elevator you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"For God's sake, is today the day we have to expose ourselves to the whole world?" you exhaled, covering your face with both hands to hide your blush.

"At least no one has seen us kiss yet"

If Emily had been in that elevator, she would have laughed in Spencer's face.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff

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yeonzzzn · 1 month

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devilish: sjyn + lhs

epilogue of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader + heeseung word count: 2.3k

synopsis: you go visit heeseung in jail for one final interview about the ghost face cases…learning more than you expected.

genre: ghostface!heeseung, ghostface!jake, journalist!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, m*rder & sexual themes, heeseung and jake are insane (as always <3) I think that’s it!

Heeseung chuckled when he saw you sitting on the other side of the glass, his heart smile reaching from ear to ear.

He sat down in front of you, tilting his head, “Awe, what did I do to deserve a special visit from you?” his voice echoed through the small holes in the glass, his voice a tiny bit muffled.

You cross one of your legs over the other and stretch your arms out, hands resting on your knee, “I came to ask questions.”

He chuckled again, “There’s the journalist YN we all know and love.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Heeseung smiled, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth then releasing it, eyeing you up and down, “How’s Jay going?” he asked, tilting his head in the other direction, “You know, after you stabbed him three times.”

You tried to not react, not to give him what he wanted: to see you break. “Jay is fine,” you said calmly, “He was released from the hospital yesterday.”

Heeseung nodded, “Didn’t think you had it in you to be so feisty.”

You still didn't react. But you had to agree with him, you didn’t think you’d have it in you either to attempt to kill someone until seeing the way Jay was hovered over Jake with Jake’s blood spilling on the floor.

“So,” Heeseung said, sliding his cuffed hands onto the table, index finger touching the glass, “How did…” he glanced up to the ceiling, then back down at you, “how did Jake figure me out?”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table, “It wasn’t hard, Heeseung. Not after piecing everything together.”

“Oh?” his eyebrows raised, “Tell me more!”

“You slipped up,” you lean back in the chair, “First, you let me see your watch when you attacked me.”

Heeseung shrugged, “That wasn’t something I was planning on, it didn't cross my mind. Sunoo had my longer gloves at that time and once I saw you leave your apartment, I had to ask fast.”

You continued, “Second, after you attacked me, when we were discussing the murders, you specifically said, “we’ll catch him,” that narrowed it down to males specifically. So we had the watch, and what you said.”

Heeseung stared at you, “Jake figured me out just by those two things?”

You raised a brow, “I wasn’t finished. Besides, he is…you know. He knows how it all works, I suppose.”

Heeseung had to give you that one, Jake was one smart motherfucker.

“Jake went over all the cases again, looking at every piece of information given until he found the missing puzzle piece.”

“He always was a good detective,” Heeseung leaned back in the chair, lowering his head at you, “Still will make a damn good one.”

“Jake wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was even you,” you sighed, “But the more he thought about it, the more sure he became. Jake went into the film office, finding nothing that said it would even be pinned to Jay or Jungwon. Then he searched the investigation office, used his brain, and found Sunoo’s ghost face attire. That was another strike in your box, that you had help. The last bit of confirmation was how Jay attacked us. It wasn’t the same movements as when you attacked me. Plus anytime you talked to Jake as ghost face, you said his full name. Jay slipped up and called him Sim.”

Heeseung locked his jaw, anger raising through him at how he could have gotten away with everything if fucking Jay didn’t fuck that one up.

You saw his gears turning and you smiled, “The only last bit was to draw you in and confess.”

Heeseung evilly smiled, “Your boyfriend used you as bait to catch me,” he laughed, “he was so confident that he risked your life, all to catch me?”

You looked to the floor. It wasn’t a risk Jake wanted to take but one he felt that needed to be done. Jake researched everything about Heeseung and took notice of every little thing he did towards you, it was obvious Heeseung had feelings. Jake knew Heeseung wouldn’t fall for a meeting if Jake was the one to call it, it had to come from you no matter how much he hated it.

“Why did you do it?” you asked him once more, “Why drag Sunoo in on this? How many people did he kill?”

Heeseung smirked, “I assume you already tried speaking to him and he gave you nothing.”

You didn’t have to acknowledge it, you knew Heeseung already knew you spoke to Sunoo. All Sunoo did was stare and smile at you and occasionally giggle, “I want to know about the past department head too.”

Heeseung sighed, leaning forward again, “I’ve always been obsessed with killers and how their brains worked. All the crimes they commit and how they do them. Watching plenty of documentaries growing up and different types of crime TV shows, it always made sense to me to become a forensics investigator,” he shrugged, “You probably could assume how excited I was when the ghost face killings started happening,” Heeseung chuckled at the memory of the first body that popped up on the news, “It was all exciting. Like a serial killer was on my campus. It was crazy. I rushed to the first murder scene.”

He made eye contact with you, “Then there was you,” you swallowed, waiting for him to continue, “It was love at first sight. Seeing how you wrote in that little journal of yours, taking pictures and investigating. I knew I was in love.”

“You don’t know me…”

“Oh, but I do,” he bit his lip, “I followed you around everywhere. I looked up every piece of information possible and learned everything. I know how you like your coffee and you’ve never drank coffee near me.”

The hair on your arms raised. Heeseung stalked you for so long and you never knew.

“I spent so long trying to figure out how to approach you, to make you mine while at the same time, my obsession with ghost face grew. And then Jake joined your team,” Heeseung’s eyes grew with hatred, “I hated him the moment I saw how he looked at you. He looked at you like you were the ones who aligned the planets and slapped the stars in the sky.”

You already knew Jake was interested in you since way before he even joined your team, he’s admitted that much to you. But hearing Heeseung say it made your heart race. Like it was fated that Jake would always be your endgame.

“So I started following him around,” Heeseung confessed, “It didn’t take long for me to figure out…his secret.” Because of course it didn’t, “You should have seen how angry I was. Knowing the man I loathed because he had feelings for my girl was also the same man I obsessed with and looked up to? The mixed emotions were crazy.”

You stared at him, “I can imagine, and I’m not your girl.”

Heeseung frowned, “My admiration for him outweighed my feelings for you,” he looked away from you, “At least, at first. Not until I followed him off to your apartment, seeing how you figured out his secret and still let him fuck you on your kitchen floor.”

“Jealousy is an ugly thing, Heeseung,” you whispered.

“Not so ugly when you felt him fuck you in public all because Jay was hitting on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Continue your story.”

Heeseung laughed, “Eager are we?” you narrow your eyes at him, “I stalked him enough to learn his patterns and the types of victims he goes for. The brand of knives he uses, even the cloak, and where he got his mask. I studied everything, all just to take him down, steal his title and his girl.”

Maybe Heeseung was crazier than Jake.

“But I had to get close, needed a reason to get close. So I committed a few murders and dumped my mask as a middle finger to him knowing it would piss him off. I learned how to bug devices, and was listening in when the news was on. It was the perfect time to introduce myself, then go commit more murders,” He shrugged again, “I needed to get close to you and your team. So I pitched to the dean about us joining together, but he told me to ask the department head. And as you know, she was murdered.”

“I’m going to assume she turned you down, saying to stay out of it?”

“You’re the department head for the journalism club for a reason,” he smiled, “She told me no. So I dressed up as ghost face and murdered her right outside her dorm room,” he sighed, “That’s when Sunoo comes in.”

You laughed, “He caught you, didn’t he?”

Heeseung nodded, “He watched me slit her throat and started acting like a fanboy, begging me to let him join me. He’s a major ghost face enthusiast.”

It made sense.

“Sunoo even knew I was a copycat,” Heeseung snickered, “He did his research just as much as I did. The only thing is he didn’t know who the original was until I told him. Then we started plotting together.”

“And you had him do your side work.”

“You’re on a roll today!” he clapped his hands together, “and to finally answer your question, Sunoo only stained his hands red once. The rest was all me. I wanted it to be all me.”

“Why?” you asked with a shaky breath.

“Again,” he leaned forward, “To destroy Jake. Destroy everything he was and what he had built. To murder him and take up his ghost face mantle and make you love me instead of him!” Heeseung clenched his fists, “I could have continued his legacy and had you at my side. Oh, the way I’ve dreamed of being in his position. Getting to be the one to be ghost face and come home to you every night and fuck you so so good. With Jake completely out of the picture. You were such a fucking tease with how you drew me into you, I knew it was too good to be true but I couldn’t help myself. Feeling your legs wrapped around me and lips brushing against mine, getting to finally touch you…”

Your ears turned red and you stood from the chair, “You’re fucking crazy!!”

Heeseung stood up quickly, leaning closer to the glass, “Says the one who is fucking a serial killer every single night.”

You shook your head, “He’s changed.”

Heeseung laughs a bit too loud, it echoing against the walls on your side of the glass, “Has he though?” he smirked, “Where is your boyfriend at right now? Do you know?”

You swallow, thinking of all the places Jake could possibly be right now, not giving him an answer.

Heeseung leans closer to the glass, his breath fogging it up, tapping his index finger against the glass, “I think we both know where he is right now, YN.”

You slowly backed away, blowing off his comment, “We’re done here.” You turn on your heels, quickly pressing the button to buzz yourself out of this room.

Hessung’s laughter could still be heard, “You know where he is, YN. Use that brain of yours!”

You exited the mental hospital, quickly walking to your car and climbing inside, dropping your face into your hands and taking a couple of deep breaths.

Heeseung’s words echoed in your mind over and over on repeat to the point you were driving yourself crazy. You sat back in the seat, glancing at the time on your dashboard, it was almost seven pm and you couldn’t help but wonder where your boyfriend could be, letting Heeseung’s words sink in and not wanting to actually know the truth.

—

Jake’s laughter echoes across the empty alleyway, pulling his knife out of this random guy's chest, his blood splattering across Jake’s new mask. He lifted the all-white hockey mask up to the top of his head and pulled down the black bandana to his neck.

“Awe fuck,” he breathed, staring at the blood dripping down the blade of his knife, “Feels so fucking good to slash with my favorite weapon again,” he coos, “It’s been too long.”

Jake laughed again, leaning down and pressing the knife to the man’s neck, his eyes widened, and cried out of fear as he looked up at Jake, pleading with him.

“Yes, I’ve missed seeing those desperate looks,” he pressed the blade more against the man’s neck, and Jake’s smile turned into a frown, “That damn copycat forced me to change my whole persona. My mask and outfit too. Such a fucking shame.” Jake slides the blade in and through his throat, blood going everywhere including Jake’s near face, it being the killing blow.

He stood to his feet, wiping the blood onto his long-sleeved shirt, staring at his reflection on the blade. Jake’s corners of his lips curled upwards, him not being able to hold back his giggles that once again became a laughing fit.

“Ahhh,” he sighs after calming down, dropping his hands to his sides and staring up at the nighttime sky, “YN is going to murder me once she finds out where I am,” his smile just grows more, “But that’s just the thrill of it all, knowing she could end me at any moment.”

Jake walked deeper into the alleyway, grabbing his things. Who knew just chilling and killing could be this much fun? Mostly now that Heeseung took the fall for his plus Jake’s crimes. Jake could start fresh and rebuild what was taken from him. Oh man, he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face once he’s home. His cock twitched with anticipation just thinking about it.

He tossed the knife up, catching it at its hilt then tossing it again, “We are so back.”

‧₊˚✧T H E E N D✧˚₊‧

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majestyeverlasting · 1 year

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Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon.

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar.

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with.

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?”

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down.

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note.

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance.

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins.

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.”

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words.

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn’t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease.

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely.

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours.

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had.

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.”

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.”

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again.

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage.

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair.

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips.

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long.

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.”

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest.

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car.

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you.

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths.

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.”

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star.

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice.

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged.

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away.

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.”

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down.

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new.

“Good night, Eddie.”

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air.

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased.

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed.

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene.

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question,

“What’s your deal?”

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself.

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door.

“Hi,” you say softly.

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.”

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask.

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again.

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it.

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.”

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint.

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over.

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done.

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.”

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.”

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.”

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending.

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control.

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.”

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true.

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins.

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?”

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends.

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie.

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world.

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered.

He nods.

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him.

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint.

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes.

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.”

You let your hand fall from his chest.

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.”

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever.

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long.

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours.

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right.

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display.

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again.

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away.

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end.

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.”

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?”

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir.

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it.

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture.

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it.

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more.

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him.

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good.

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come.

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand.

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light.

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction.

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be.

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself.

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear.

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?”

You nod.

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme.

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V.

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt.

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts.

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once.

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person.

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body.

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter.

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile.

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by.

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins.

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut.

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers.

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy.

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble.

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream.

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?”

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones.

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty.

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.

“What's wrong?” you ask.

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.”

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight.

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking.

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him.

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside.

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back.

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze.

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you.

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?”

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak.

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance.

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined.

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs.

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady.

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.”

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.”

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected.

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter.

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps.

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin.

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in.

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.”

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?”

Your stomach drops.

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.”

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him.

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips.

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept.

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together.

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension.

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.”

“How close?”

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—”

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?”

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs.

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly.

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him.

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips.

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly.

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.”

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.”

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach.

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit.

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes.

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies.

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices.

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.”

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you.

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.”

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

For more fics, see my pinned post!

To join my taglist, turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting

#eddie munson #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #4 stranger things fic

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thefreakandthehair · 1 month

Text

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since.

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something.

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile.

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy.

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy.

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers.

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck.

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page.

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.”

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around.

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there.

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him.

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.”

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive.

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm.

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor.

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual.

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.”

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back.

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.”

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.”

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands.

“You’re serious.” Eddie says.

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases.

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?”

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.”

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?”

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull.

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear.

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs

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verstappen-cult · 2 months

Note

Hi, love your writing so much ❤️❤️

So I have a request could you maybe write something about Charles reacting to his girlfriend having an allergic reaction? Like she accidentally eats something (I'm allergic to apples) and he freaked out

“Honey, I’m home!” Charles says, making you giggle and jump off the couch. He’s carrying two bags from your favorite restaurant while his gym bag is in his other hand, but that doesn’t stop you from hugging him and peppering his face with kisses.

“I missed you so much,” You say with a last kiss to his lips. “and I’m starving.”

Charles gives you the bags while he takes off his shoes. “I bought two pieces of that carrot cake you like so much.”

Before you even look at what else is in the bags, you take the dessert out, grabbing a fork in the process. Charles joins you in the kitchen, stealing the first bite of the cake from you.

“I don’t know why you like it so much, it’s gross.” He complains at which you roll your eyes, finally tasting the delicious and sweet cake.

After the second bite you can taste something different, something that’s not been there all the other times you’ve had it. However, you don't think too much about it and keep eating.

“Did you ask them to add something?” You ask after half of the cake has disappeared.

“No?” He answers, mouth full of pasta. “Oh! They said they’re trying a new recipe and has—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, Charles just snatches the plate out of your hands, causing it to fall onto the floor, making a mess.

“Charles, that’s very rude!”

“I’m so sorry, baby. We need to go to the hospital.” He grabs your hand, rushing to the front door as you look confused at him, not understanding why he’s acting like that all of a sudden.

“Char, what’s happening!”

“You need to lie on your back, I’m gonna call the—”

It takes you a moment to finally understand.

That strange taste in your mouth, why the cake wasn’t like any of the other ones you’ve had before.

Sighing, you squeeze your boyfriend’s hand, forcing him to turn around and stop for a second.

“Baby, I’ll be fine.” But Charles looks like he’s about to throw up, probably feeling so guilty. “I just need my EpiPen, can you get it for me?”

“No! We need to—”

You cup his face, looking straight into his green eyes. “Charlie, you need to calm down or I’m seriously gonna slap you in the face. Now, can you get my EpiPen? It is on my nightst—”

You haven’t finished talking but he’s already sprinting up the stairs, tripping over his own feet. There’s a big commotion upstairs, things falling and Charles cursing as he searches for the medicine you need right now.

You slowly make your way to the couch, breathing in and out, when you hear Charles footsteps approaching.

He hands you the EpiPen and you smile up at him before taking it in your hands, taking your sweatpants off enough to push it against your thigh.

Charles looks away, making a strange sound. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers, looking like a kicked puppy in the middle of the road.

“It’s okay, Char.”

“No, it’s not! I’m gonna sue them,” He starts pacing around the living room, pulling on his hair. “how dare they do this! You could die.”

“I’m not going to die.” You laugh, rubbing the area around the injection for a few seconds. “You need to calm down because this isn’t helping me.”

His expression relaxes, and he sits next to you, grabbing your free hand. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

“It’s not your fault, Charles. These things happen and they’ve been happening to me all my life.” You rub his palm, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how many times this has happened since we’ve been dating, but you still freak out.” He laughs, closing his eyes and finally, finally, relaxing against you. “It’s cute.”

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I’m allergic to three different things, baby. You need to get used to it.”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic

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ssprayberrythings · 2 months

Text

living in oblivion | LS2

logan sargeant x female!reader, oscar piastri x platonic!reader

warnings: none just two people oblivious to their feelings for one another

note: im obviously not someone who works for a f1 team so i have no idea how reading the data actually works but this is a piece of fiction so just go with it lol

special mention to @whydowesleepeachnight for this idea! sorry it took me so long to get it out to the world, i hope it lives up to the idea you gave to me (:

word count: 4k

masterlist | taglist

You were currently at the first race of the new season, supporting Oscar. You and Oscar had been best friends since you were 7 and Oscar was 8. The two of you met at summer camp where you spent 6 weeks together, getting to know everything about each other.

When time came to say goodbye, you had promised each other you’d call and email (through your parents of course). By some miracle, you never lost touch and your friendship only got stronger the older you got.

When Oscar started his journey towards racing and he shared with you his goal was to be an F1 driver, you showed him nothing but encouragement and support. You celebrated all of his successes and achievements.

When he met Lily his girlfriend, you were beyond happy, seeing your best friend happy and in love. It also helped that you and Lily got along instantly and she became one of your closest friends.

You were brought back to reality when Lily called your name

“Sorry, what was that?” You asked the girl

She laughed “I just asked if you had seen him yet today. We could go pop in before he has to start getting ready for the race” she said again smiling at you.

“Oh yeah, let’s go!” You nodded, you enjoyed getting to see him before the race and you knew Lily did too, especially with how busy he usually was after a race.

As you and Lily walked through the paddock towards the McLaren hospitality, you passed Lando.

“Hey if you’re looking for Oscar, he’s outside of the William’s hospitality talking with Alex” Lando told you two smiling before continuing his walk wherever he was initially going.

You and Lily offered him a thanks and continued walking till you reached your destination and sure enough there was Oscar with Alex but there was another driver with them, Logan Sargeant. You felt your heart skip a beat.

Being best friends with Oscar, you obviously knew Logan and there had been plenty of times when you would hang out with Oscar that you also hung out with Logan.

As the three of you got older, you grew up and you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards Logan. The blue eyes and blonde hair got you.

As you approached the group, Oscar noticed you and Lily

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He asked bringing his girlfriend in for a side hug and offering you a smile

“We just wanted to see you before the race started” she told him

“And wish you luck” you added finding your voice, hoping the nerves weren’t noticeable.

Oscar just smiled “Thanks” he told you.

“Lily you know Logan and Alex. Y/N this is Alex and you know Logan” Oscar introduced you to the other William’s driver

“Nice to meet you” you told Alex who smiled at you

“Hi Logan” you said politely trying to stay as cool and calm as you could

“Hey Y/N!” Logan said, offering you a smile which you returned, doing your best not to blush.

The five of you spoke a bit longer before the three drivers had to go and get ready.

You and Lily said goodbye to the William’s boys as they walked into their hospitality, then you walked a bit away, to give the couple a moment before the two of you walked back to where you initially were.

When Lily joined you again, you started walking back

“So Logan’s pretty cute” Lily said out of the blue

“Lily! You have a boyfriend” you said looking at her to which she rolled her eyes

“Not for me you goof” she said “For you” she finished

If you had been drinking anything, you would’ve probably spit it out at her words

“What is that supposed to mean? I don’t like Logan” you said quickly which earned a look from your friend

“Judging by the blush on your face at the mention of him and how defensive you just got I’d say that’s not the total truth” she said matter of factly.

You bit the inside of your cheek, not sure what to say

“And now I know from the silence, how right I am” she said smirking which earned a groan from you. She was so observant, it was annoying at times.

“Okay yes Logan is cute and yes I may or may not be attracted to him” you told her

“But it’s not a big deal and I don’t want to make it a big deal” you told her,

She nodded appearing to be lost in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no” you told her. You had been friends with the girl long enough now to know when she was planning something

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say” she said

“I don’t care, I could tell you were planning something I would’ve disagreed with” you explained as you reached your destination.

“Lils can we just drop it for now? I want to enjoy our time here and just cheer on Oscar” you asked the girl

She sighed “Fine but we aren’t done talking about this” she told you before smiling at you.

You sighed, the race had bought you a bit more time from having this conversation with the girl.

Since that moment with Lily, things only got worse and it got harder to hide your attraction towards Logan whenever you were near him.

Lily had told Oscar which you assumed she would and the two of them were relentless in “accidentally” having you and Logan be near eachother.

When Lily wasn’t around, Oscar on his own wasn’t any better.

He would playfully pick on you for your crush to the point where you were certain Logan definitely had to have known of your crush by now or atleast suspected something.

Now it was time for the Miami Grand Prix which was a big deal for Logan as it was his home race.

You weren’t going to come but Oscar had insisted you had to be there, his exact words were “to see your boy in his element” even though Logan wasn’t yours.

Fortunately you couldn’t argue with him cause deep down you wanted to be there.

You had gotten in a few hours earlier than you had told Oscar because you wanted to surprise Oscar at the track.

It was media day so you knew he’d be around somewhere and he had already given you your friends & family pass so you had a way in.

You took an Uber over and walked in no problem. As you walked to McLaren’s hospitality you passed Lando and Max,

“Hey Y/N! Oscar didn’t say you’d be here today” Lando smiled giving you a quick hug

“Yeah I thought I’d surprise him” you told him

“Oh well, have fun doing that” he chuckled before you said your goodbyes and parted ways.

You walked past William’s hospitality, not noticing Logan and Alex filming some media content.

Logan recognized you immediately but you were too far for him to call your name plus he was in the middle of something

“Bro did you hear me?” Alex asked as the camera recorded them “You just got distracted” he laughed at his teammate

“Oh sorry” Logan awkwardly laughed before turning his attention to Alex and the work they were doing.

The camera that was on them had caught the whole interaction and if someone had to describe the look on Logan’s face when he spotted you, they’d say it was someone who was in complete awe.

That’s the effect you had on him, you just didn’t know it.

You made it to McLaren just as Oscar was walking out

“Surprise” you said when your eyes met causing you to laugh, you wanted to do a bit more but the timing didn’t allow for that.

Oscar smiled widely and gave you a bear hug when he was off the steps “I’m so happy you’re here” he exclaimed, you smiled at him.

You ended up spending your day around McLaren while Oscar did his media duties. You had brought your iPad so you did some work to pass the time.

When he was done for the day, he found you in his drivers room, you had dozed off with your head leaning against the wall, your iPad discarded on the couch next to you and you were hugging your legs to your chest.

He quickly snapped a photo of you like this, remembering to use that when your birthday rolled around, then he walked over to wake you up

“Sleeping beauty, it’s time to go” he said chuckling slightly shaking you gently, you must not have been in a deep sleep cause you woke up almost right away

“Shit sorry, I think the travelling just crept up on me” you said stretching your legs and arms, rubbing your eyes to wake you up

“All good, I was coming to get you so we could head out” he told you walking over to pick up his backpack.

You got up, grabbing your iPad closing the case and putting it back in your tote bag.

“Sounds good” you said. The two of you made your way out of the building before going to the parking lot.

“You know Logan asked where you were today” Oscar told you casually “He said he saw you on your way to McLaren earlier but was too busy at the moment to say hello” he finished

“Oh I feel bad, I should’ve went and said hi” you said biting your lip out of habit.

Even if you liked Logan, you weren’t the type of person to avoid him because of it, at the end of the day you still considered him a friend.

“I think he’s still around, you could pop in, I'll wait for you in the car” he offered

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be quick, thanks Osc” you smiled at him before picking up the pace and walking to William’s.

When you got there, Alex was leaving with Lily his girlfriend

“Hey Alex, is Logan in there?” You asked him

He nodded “Yeah, he is, maybe he’ll listen to you about leaving. He keeps looking at the data from the previous races so he knows what to improve on for this race” Alex told you

You frowned,

“Oh, okay yeah I’ll see what I can do” you told him before offering him and Lily a small smile, walking around them going inside to Logan’s driver room.

You knocked on the door

“Come in” you heard Logan’s voice on the other side of the door, you opened the door

“Hey stranger” you joked offering him a smile

“Oh hey” Logan said his mood picking up from seeing you

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You walked in “Oscar told me you were asking about me so I thought I’d come say hi incase I don’t see you before the race” you told him smiling which he returned.

It was obvious to anyone but the two of you that you had a mutual interest in each other.

“Oh, that’s nice of you” he replied

You weren’t sure what else to say but then you remembered what Alex told you,

“Alex tells me you’re refusing to leave, something about looking at data” you said casually walking over to the couch he was sitting on, sitting next to him.

Sure enough he had an iPad open on his lap with data pulled up.

“I just want to make sure I do a good job at this race, it’s a big deal, I want to make everyone proud” he shared with you

You nodded understanding where he was coming from “Logan you’re a good driver and everyone is already proud of you, regardless of how you do” you told him trying to reassure him

“Plus you can only reread the data so many times, the information is still the same” you continued

“You know what you’re doing and when the time comes to be behind the wheel, your instincts will take over” you finished, trying to make him feel better.

He looked over at you, he looked tired but he nodded his head acknowledging what you had said

“C’mon, we’ll give you a ride back to the hotel” you told him nicely, he thanked you and closed the iPad which you took from him.

“What are you doing?” He asked confused

“I don’t trust you wont secretly try and steal a couple glances in the car” you said putting the iPad in your bag. He still looked confused and a bit apprehensive

“Don’t worry I won’t go sharing secrets to your opposing teams” you joked, not earning a laugh from Logan you stopped joking,

“Okay how about you come with me back to my room, we can order some food, you can give your eyes a break from the screen and then together we can look it over some more” you offered.

You realized what this meant and what it could’ve implied but you just wanted to help out your friend.

After a moment of silence he agreed and then the two of you made your way out of the building, meeting up with Oscar in the parking lot

“That was not quick” he told you when you got in the passenger seat and Logan in the back

“What were you doing?” He asked curisouly

“Don’t worry about it, we just got caught up talking” you told him

“Now can we leave? I’m hungry” you changed the subject, knowing Oscar would keep pushing.

He sighed and started the car, driving to the hotel. When you got there, you made your way to the elevator, Logan following.

Oscar stayed in the lobby, seeing some of the other drivers and choosing to chat with them before heading up to his room

“What’s up with those two?” Lando asked seeing you and Logan together

“I don’t know, I’m hoping they finally confessed their feelings” Oscar said “Not sure how much more of this oblivion I can take” he said drastically

“Maybe they’re spending the night together” Lando said wiggling his eyebrows to indicate what he was referring to

“Oh ew, I don’t want to think of that, she’s like a sister to me” Oscar said groaning, even though in the back of his mind, he knew it could be a possibility.

Meanwhile back in your hotel room, you and Logan had ordered room service and made yourselves comfortable on the couch.

You put something on the TV to fill the silence and pass the time while you waited for your food.

You eventually pulled the iPad back out and opened it, looking at the data while Logan just sat silently next to you.

You had always enjoyed stats and reading data however this was a different kind of data you didn’t fully understand.

Eventually there was a knock on the door, your food. “I’ll get it” he told you standing up and getting the food, being sure to thank the gentleman that brought it.

Logan came and sat on the couch putting your food on the coffee table infront of him. You put the iPad down, wanting to eat instead of looking at things you didn’t understand.

“Do you think there’s anything I can improve on?” he asked after sometime passed

You looked at him, he looked so sincere right in this moment.

“The only thing I found was a lot of numbers and words that I don’t fully understand however I’m going to assume because they repeat themselves it’s an indicator you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to” you told him

“You’d think you were a good driver or something” you joked nudging his shoulder, causing a slight chuckle to leave him.

There was a comfortable silence that fell upon you as you continued to eat your food.

“Thank you” Logan spoke after some time passed. He had finished his food and was now looking at you

You turned to meet his eyes “It was nothing but you’re welcome” you smiled. Damn he loved seeing your smile

“Can I ask you something?” He asked sounding slightly nervous which caused you to swallow a lump in your thought. This could be related to anything.

“Sure” you said trying to sound as casual as you could

“Would it be okay if I kissed you” he asked softly looking in your eyes.

You thought your ears might’ve been deceiving you,

‘did he just ask if he could kiss me’, you thought to yourself.

Becoming aware of your silence, you slowly nodded “That would definitely be okay” you told him as he moved closer.

Suddenly you didn’t know what to do, it was as if you had never been kissed before. He slowly leaned in, his one hand on the side of your face.

You leaned into his embrace and before you knew it his lips were on yours, you instinctively kissed back.

The way your lips fit perfectly together, you would think they were two puzzle pieces placed together.

Eventually you both had to pull away but Logan didn’t pull away fully, he rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed

“I’ve been wanting to do that for way too long” he confessed.

You were taken back, you never thought he felt the same “I could say the same thing” you chuckled.

He pulled away opening his eyes looking at you “We were so oblivious” he joked which brought a giggle out of you.

After that you cleaned up your food, you let Logan read over the data a bit more, this time he explained what everything meant to you then eventually you put the iPad back in your bag and went to cuddle on your bed.

“I know I should go but I don’t want to leave you” Logan told you while your head rested on his chest.

You looked up at him “You could spend the night” you suggested then realized what that may have implied

“Not like that, just so than you don’t have to leave” you added a blush coming to your face as Logan chuckled slightly.

“Don’t worry I knew what you meant” he reassured you

“But if you’re offering, I’m fine with staying” he smiled “ill leave in the morning to quickly stop at my room to clean up” you nodded then pushed yourself up to go get and get changed.

That night you and Logan fell asleep cuddled up next to each other with your head nuzzled between his shoulder and his neck meanwhile his arm was tightly around you keeping you close.

The following morning, you were awoken to knocking on your door, relatively loud knocking. You groaned and cuddled closer to Logan who was still asleep.

When the knocking didn’t stop, you begrudgingly got out of Logan’s embrace and made your way to the door, opening it and seeing Oscar standing there

“Oscar what do you want so urgently, I was sleeping” you said still half asleep

Before Oscar could answer, Logan appeared rubbing some sleep out of his eyes

“Dude you knock really loudly” he said before going into the washroom, leaving a stunned Oscar and a slightly blushing you.

“You were saying” You reminded Oscar who was still shocked at seeing Logan in your room.

“No no doesn’t matter now” he said “I believe you have something to tell me” he looked at you

You shrugged deciding to be chill about it, knowing it would drive Oscar mad

“Nope, nothing to say” you said pretending to think, while Logan exited the washroom seeming more awake this time

“Logan is there anything to tell Oscar?? He seems to think there is” you informed Logan of the topic of conversation.

Logan picking up on what you were doing, shook his head,

“No I don’t believe so” he said wrapping his arm around your shoulders as if this was a normal occurrence.

Oscar was still shook and clearly speechless from his lack of words

“You’re both going to drive me mental” he finally said “Okay well whatever this is” he said referring to you and Logan

“I wish you the best and also I was coming to ask if you wanted to join us for breakfast but I’ll think I’ll just leave you be” he finished

“Thanks Osc” you told him smiling at him, before he said goodbye and Logan shut the door.

“Back to bed” you said turning to go back to the bed but before you could do so Logan gently grabbed your wrist and turned you, bringing you closer to him

“First a kiss” he said before leaning down and kissing you.

You smiled in the kiss, kissing him back.

That race in Miami ended up being one of Logan’s best, he finished in P7 which earned the team some points and was an overall great showcase of his driving abilities.

When the race was over and he found you, he engulfed you in a massive hug

“Logan that was so good, I know you didn’t get on the podium but I am so proud of you” you told him hugging him back

“I don’t care, that was one of the best races I’ve had in awhile and I’m so glad you were here to watch it” he explained pulling away smiling proudly

“You must bring me good luck” he smirked tucking a stand of your hair behind your ear

“Guess that means you can’t miss a race” you chuckled before someone called his name telling you he had to go do his after race duties

“I’ll see you around” he told you, you nodded your head and decided to lean up and leave a kiss on his cheek

“I’ll be here” you told him as he blushed from your kiss before walking away.

You were so happy that things had worked out for you when it came to Logan. You couldn’t wait to catch Lily up with all the details even though you were sure Oscar had already done so.

You laughed to yourself thinking about his reaction before deciding to go find your best friend and congratulate him on his podium finish, he had gotten P3.

When you found him, you gave him a big hug “Osc I’m so proud of you!” You exclaimed genuinely happy for your friend.

He hugged you back “Thanks Y/N” then pulled away

“Did you see Logan? P7 is good” he asked smirking at you while you rolled your eyes playfully

“Yeah I already saw him, gave him a reward for doing so well” you raised your eyebrows at Oscar who groaned

“Oh ew I didn’t need to know that” he said making you laugh

“Slow down, I didn’t say what, get your head out of the gutter” you exclaimed pretending to act offended before laughing

“I just gave him a kiss on the cheek if you must know” you told Oscar

“So I guess this means you finally told him about your crush?” He asked already knowing the answer

You nodded smiling at your best friend who mirrored your smile

“I’m happy for you two, seriously” he told you pulling you into a side hug “Now we can go on double dates” he said excitedly which you chuckled at

“Yeah but are you sure you can handle the both of us picking on you especially when you say things like thongs instead of flip flops” you looked up at him

He rolled his eyes “I take it back, im not happy anymore” he said even though you knew he was joking “And stop hating on my choice of words, it’s what I know” he groaned which earned a chuckle from you.

“Whatever you say Osc” you patted his chest before pulling out of his embrace

“Now if you don’t mind I’m gonna go find my favourite American and give him a proper reward for doing well” you told him smirking as he acted grossed out

“Ahhh please keep those details to yourself, I don’t want to know about them” he said which you laughed at before turning away and going to find Logan so you could celebrate properly.

taglist: @namgification @itsyagirlmeee @asparklysoul @bwormie @meadhbhcavanagh @talksoprettyjjx & @ari-nicole

I've had this written in my notes for so long I just wasn't sure If I was ready to post it but I guess now is better than later!!

#ssprayberrythings x formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x smau #l #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #x reader #f1 imagine #imagines #ls2 x reader #ls2 #ls2 fluff #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine

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glitter-epoch · 3 months

Note

Hiii, always love to see people obsessing over love and deepspace (bc I'm addicted too), can I please request zayne fic about his hands and fingers? Can be suggestive, can be pure smut, up to you lol, ok thanks byee

HIII yes i can!!! i can't believe my first request is a zayne's hands request this feels like a gift. thank you for requesting i hope you like!!!

[ there’s a part 2 now :) ] ☄. *. ⋆ gn! reader | 2.8k words | suggestive, not smut | zayne gives reader stitches but it's deliberately not described in detail/no mentions of needles/blood

“my lunch break ends in fifteen minutes,” zayne had said, staring past your head in thought. “it would be a waste of time to check you in.”

you stood there in the bustling lobby of akso hospital, one paper-towel-bound hand pressed to the sliced skin over your hipbone, and waited. surely he wasn’t telling you to just leave. you were only friends, so it’s not like he had an obligation to you; but he was your primary care doctor, and...

and. there was, is, an and. you’re not sure what exactly to call it, and zayne is so adonis-like you’re embarrassed to even suggest he might like you.

“i’m sorry,” you said in earnest, a little surprised by his usual coldness that you’d arrogantly assumed would thaw upon seeing your injury. “i didn’t mean for you to drop everything for me. i should have gone to an urgent care, or something, i just thought since you’re here...”

zayne looked down from the spot over your head, clearly removed from his pensive mood. his intention to argue with you was clear, but he held his tongue stonily until you finished your rambling.

“no,” he replied. “you should never go to another doctor. i was just thinking.”

you blushed like an idiot. “ever?” you mocked.

“mm,” he murmured, back to thinking again. he brought his forearm to circle the small of your back, not touching, and motioned you forward. “come with me.”

and now, here you are: sitting on the grey sofa in front of the wall-length window, early afternoon light bleeding white all over zayne’s office. for a few moments, he’s left you alone to gather materials, and you relish in what feels like a small victory.

i’ve been personally invited to the office.

not like it’s the first time, though.

zayne returns with a small kit swallowed by the size of his pale hands; the sleeves of his button-down pinned up to his elbows. you shift, balancing your weight unnaturally on one leg. His eyes snag on you as he grabs his glasses from his desk (far taller than the tabletop, he must lean down to grab those, too).

“lay down,” zayne commands.

you blink, glancing around to try to figure out the most convenient position to get into for him to work. by the time he’s come over and sat down on the glass table in front of you, you’re still sitting up.

“you can put your head on the armrest and your feet that way,” he nods, not a hint of impatience in his deep voice. “i can see you squirming. when you sit up like you are, you’re putting pressure on the wound. it must hurt.”

“i haven’t even shown you the wound,” you retort, not sure why you’re arguing so much- and swallowing a wince as you turn to prop your head up on the side of the sofa.

“i see your handywork,” zayne replies. he pulls on a pair of blue latex gloves and they snap quietly against his wrists. he’s clearly careful not to let the noise be too loud. “hm.”

you frown in place of a (shameful) gulp at the sight of the gloves hugging his hands.

“is this bad?” you ask. “i’m sorry. i tried not to mess with it too much.”

zayne pieces through the small kit on the table beside him. even his rummaging is succinct; long fingers deftly parsing through the stack of metal utensils inside. he comes up with two sets of narrow pliers and a cotton round.

he passes the pliers through his fingers like pencils, balancing them between his knuckles, and pours a solvent that looks like lens cleaner onto the cotton pad.

“not bad,” he says, eyes on the pliers as he polishes them. “the paper towel is fine. but you got it wet beforehand.”

“and that’s bad?”

“you’ll be alright,” he murmurs- or maybe he always sounds like that- and discards the cotton round. the corners of his lips just barely curl. “you won’t die, i suppose.”

“well, i’d hope not. it’s just a cut.”

“and what did you do this time?” zayne demands softly, fishing in the kit for what you now realize will be sutures.

“i had an assignment with xavier and failed to climb a fence.”

“you impaled yourself, then,” he remarks coldly. “and xavier.”

he sets a roll of sterile surgical threads on a wider cotton pad and turns his eyes to your midriff, which is still mostly covered by your shirt; wound hiding beneath it.

“xavier, yeah,” you inhale deeply, mentally preparing for the stitches. “my partner. i’ve mentioned him, i think.”

“yes, you have,” zayne says. his voice is strained. then he inhales, a whole breath through his nose, mouth closed in stoic secrecy; and nods to your hips. “lift your shirt, please.”

you’re grateful that he’s given you a task and you don’t have to look him in his eyes after that tiny display of disdain (for your partner? for your hips? hopefully the former?). But as you lift your shirt, the paper towel comes loose.

“ouch,” you hiss.

you realize you’re probably stressing him out.

“it’s not bad,” you add, uncharacteristically hoarse.

“it’s not,” zayne agrees softly, eyeing the wound with his usual cold stare. his eyes refuse to flicker above or below the cut, which rests just over the shallow ridge of your hipbone, right above the line of your trousers. “but it hurts, i'm sure.”

you nod. “sure.”

“sure,” he repeats, almost as if to mock you, almost as if he’s just making sure he heard you right.

zayne busies himself preparing a cotton round of saline, and in the middle of this, says,

“you’ll have to unbutton your pants. can you fold the waistband over?”

your neck is suddenly clammy. “oh. yeah, sure.”

“if you can’t fold them down far enough, you’ll have to take them off.”

your eyes blow out like glass.

zayne, whom you suspected might have been deliberately extending the length of his cotton-round-preparing, is surprisingly the one to smile first. almost wickedly. “i would get you a cover, of course.”

“oh, how nice of you.”

he laughs barely, an exhale from his nose. you unbutton your trousers, fabric shifting against metal.

he inhales at the sound.

the blue latex over his knuckles catches light from the windows. you watch moments later as he threads the sutures, fascinated by how efficient his hands are. they’re longer than they are wide, and slender, not bear-like; but big nonetheless. and yet his fingers move like knitting needles, never missing a beat, never shaking. “would you like to do it yourself?” zayne asks suddenly.

his voice is like a hum, always vibrating in his chest.

you bristle. “god, no.”

“then why are you staring?”

you’re hoping he won’t finish on that very word, but he does, and he looks at you with his usual resolve of steel. you decide that no answer is the only good answer, and instead say,

“okay. good luck. don’t mess up, please.”

he chuckles and leans over you, the breadth of his sharp shoulders blocking the sun. “i never mess up.”

the words ‘mess’ and ‘up,’ are foreign on his tongue, like he’d never refer to a mistake so casually, like he’s never made one in his life. he probably hasn’t, you think.

zayne lifts up the cotton round, which is practically the size of a pea in his hand. “i’m going to clean around it. the solution may sting, but not much. it will be over fast.”

you nod. “sure.”

he chuckles again. “sure,” he hums, and then, before he presses down, “here.”

he swipes the cotton round over your hipbone, startlingly light. goosebumps rise instantly on your flesh. his fingers are icy, even through the gloves; they radiate cold like a lamp radiates heat.

zayne is kind enough not to mention your instant squirming and moves quickly to start the sutures.

“this will be fast, too,” he says, looking unwaveringly into your eyes. like he’s trying to will the fear out of you. “not as fast as that, but faster than you’d imagine.”

you nod. “sure.”

“there it is again,” he smiles. “sure.”

you grin incredulously. “i don’t know what else to say. you’re about to stab me.”

his smile is thin and almost prideful as he grabs his glasses and slips them on. he leans over your hips, then looks up at you; pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

“aren’t you glad it’s me, at least, and not some stranger?”

you’re busy inhaling and exhaling like a horse, trying to calm down. “i am glad it’s you, yes.”

your desperation throws him and his jaw sets like a stone, adam’s-apple bobbing.

“alright,” zayne says, nearly whispering. “now.”

he begins the sutures. you gasp, instantly, at first through your nose and then through your mouth; which pops open unwittingly. it’s nearly a whine.

“i know,” zayne murmurs, leaning back a tiny bit as he works; so his face is visible to you. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay.”

you bite down hard and screw your eyes shut, but all you do is flinch each time his fingers move. he stops almost instantaneously, like pulling the plug on a treadmill.

“look at me,” zayne says, deep voice rumbling against your thigh.

you peel one eye open and then the other.

“i know it hurts,” he says gently. “but you can’t move. i could seriously hurt you.”

“sorry, sorry,” you nod. “i know.”

the pools of his eyes are clear. he’s resolute in his instructions as he speaks, every word confident.

“breathe the entire time, through every suture. i can work while your stomach moves; i can’t work if you’re flinching away.”

“okay.”

his brows lift. “okay?”

again, you nod. “okay. i’m sorry.”

“no apologies,” zayne says.

he presses his hand flat to the side of your belly that’s unharmed, the tips of his long fingers just barely curling around the slope of your waist. you inhale slowly at that, blinking rapidly. his hand is cool as glass.

you panic, as if he can somehow feel the coil that winds up in your stomach; watching his fingers splayed across your navel.

“i’m going to try again,” he says. you can feel the words all the way down to his fingertips. then his thumb moves, caressing the skin just over your waistband. “breathe.”

well, i can’t now.

“got it,” you grind out.

“good,” zayne hums. “three, two, one...”

and it starts again. you bite down, tongue taut to the roof of your mouth.

“don’t,” zayne warns, stern as ever, but his fingers keep working. “breathe. i can see whether you’re doing it.”

the coil in your stomach tightens. you peel your eyes open and watch him work, knuckles grazing over the soft, thin flesh that’s been revealed from behind the waistband of your trousers.

his eyes flash away from your navel as you start to watch. moments later, you’re stunned to see how laser-focused he is, pupils never moving from your cut.

“do you ever get nervous doing this?” you ask, apt to make the time pass faster by talking. like your mouth isn’t wet just watching him do his job. “are you nervous?”

“no.” his reply is instant. “i’ve done this hundreds of times.”

you’re stunned. “i would be nervous.”

“you are nervous,” zayne murmurs. “close your eyes.”

the ball of his wrist presses into the juncture of your hipbone.

“no,” you gasp. too fast.

zayne’s fingers slow, utensils suspended. he looks up at you, somehow feeling taller still. “no?”

you shake your head. “i-i don’t like not knowing what you’re going to do next.”

oh, sure.

he’s stopped working at this point, watching you like a hawk. “then i’ll tell you what i’m going to do before i do it.”

“that’s okay,” you exhale. i’m dying.

zayne’s eyes rove over yours, not unkind, but uncaring about how visible his assessment of you is. clinical, even still. the corners of his lips curl up.

you’re not sure how it’s possible for your stomach to drop while laying flat on your back, but it does; your ears hot as irons.

he goes back to work without another word. you’re so embarrassed, you finally shut your eyes and let your head weigh on the armrest until he’s done.

“alright,” zayne says. “that’s it. don’t move.”

you keep your eyes shut, nodding. “i really can’t thank you enough, i-”

“watch.”

for a moment, you lay there. then you open your eyes, peering down at him, too uncertain to be shocked yet. “what?”

zayne takes his small kit from the table and places it on your lap. you startle, blink, as he sifts through the contents of it. gloves still on.

“this is another cleanser,” he hums, his voice uncharacteristically musical. “i’m going to clean around the sutures.”

you stare incredulously at him. “...okay.”

he’s not fooled by your aloofness. zayne’s right hand works slow circles with a cotton round around your cut; the other comes down flat to keep the waistband of your trousers from getting in his way. both are cold to the touch; never quite warming.

your jaws come apart and you barely manage to stop your mouth from falling open as discards the cotton round and takes the corner of your waistband into his hand.

he buttons your trousers; pulls the zipper up.

you watch like a fool. then, when he’s done, and you think you’ll have to admit to what you’re thinking, he furrows his brows at your face.

“did you cut yourself here, too?” he murmurs.

“where?” you croak.

zayne shakes his head and slowly peels off the gloves; letting them slide slowly off his fingers. “mm. here.”

he reaches forward and spreads fingers to cup your temples. one thumb glides over your browbone, low enough that you can see it; four or five times before removing his kit from your hips and leaning back.

you exhale harshly and move to sit up, wondering if you’ll be able to somehow flee the office without another word.

“not yet,” zayne says. “lay back again. you don’t have to put your head back; just lean back.”

and you do it, instantly, because...well, because.

zayne pulls a rectangular gauze pad with an adhesive border from the small kit. then he leans forward- he'd be positioned between your legs, if you opened them- and pulls your shirt up once more.

as he presses the bandage over your sutured wound, it seems like even he can’t look at you. but his usually statuesque expression is lifted with amusement, plus something more sinister.

“you like to watch me work,” he hums.

his fingers dip under your waistband to smooth the bandage over.

“shut up,” you bite.

he leans back and watches you with no further offerings- words or otherwise medically dubious practices- and looks quite pleased. his breath is ragged, though; chest lifting and caving.

“thank you,” you exhale. your tongue darts out over your lips.

his pupils are swollen. “sure.”

you grin, caught off guard by the joke. it sounds ridiculous in his voice.

“my break will be ending,” zayne says, stony as ever once again as he walks to his desk.

you stand, smoothing your hair down like something far more scandalous just occurred than stitches.

“what do i owe you?” you ask. this earns a genuine, icy glare.

“nothing,” zayne replies, pulling on his white jacket and grabbing his things. “but go to the front desk before you leave. i’m going to call in a prescription ointment for you.”

you blink at him, thrice. a little dizzy. “oh, wow. thank you.”

as zayne strides to the door, you think he might genuinely leave you there without another word. but he takes the door handle, and, almost shy, turns over his shoulder and says,

“i’d like to stay with you, but i can’t. i’ll be working until dinner.”

“no, no,” you rush, stepping to meet him at the door. “i’m fine. thank you so much, for doing this. i was just thinking.”

he still can’t look at you, but at that; zayne grins.

“i’ll call you when i get home,” he says. then, “is that okay?”

you swallow. “of course.”

“i want to know how the sutures feel in a couple of hours,” he adds.

“oh, sure,” you tease.

his eyes darken, like darts. you’re almost afraid.

zayne opens the door for you and waits for you to pass by, eyes full of mirth as he looks down at you. “i’m glad i could be of service.”

he raps his fingers on a clipboard until you look away. you blush feverishly all the way down the hall at how he says ‘service.’

☄. *. ⋆

this is not how you do stitches nor how you sterilize utensils. anyways FIRST POST. lol. anon if you or anyone else wants a part 2 of this (nsfw) i wiiiiiill do it lmk

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace fluff #love and deep space x reader #l&ds zayne #l&ds x reader #l&ds #l&ds zayne x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #l&ds fic #l&ds smut

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the-offside-rule · 3 months

Text

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - It's Always Been You

Requested: yes

Prompt: 4) "You deserve better."

Warnings: nope, but long iwl

As the paddock seemed normal in it's all too familiar business and loudness, Y/n found solace in between hospitality lounges, with the stacks of Red Bull Racing tyres as her only form of company. The scent of rubber and gasoline enveloped her as she sought refuge from the shattered pieces of her heart. Tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving a trail of black from her eyeliner. As the sister of Max Verstappen, Y/n was no stranger to the high-speed world of Formula 1. Her heart, however, had taken an unexpected detour when she fell for Carlos Sainz, the charming driver who had once occupied a special place in her life. She remembers when she first met him, back when her twin and him were teammates. There was always casual flirting but then when Y/n finished up school in 2016, the pair began going on dates since her visits to the paddock became more and more common, then becoming basically constant once they made it official. They were the it couple and it felt like no other couple could compare. How they looked at eachother, how they spoke of one another, it seemed too good good be true...until the faithful night after the Singapore Grand Prix win when Carlos decided to call it quits.

The music pulsed through the air as Carlos downed one shot after another, his laughter filling the space. Y/n, his girlfriend, tried to catch his attention, but he seemed oblivious, lost in the sea of people. "Carlos? I wanna go dance." Y/n said. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead." Carlos replied, turning back to his group of instagram models who fanned over him, all desperate for the same thing; dick and clout. She rolled her eyes and walked away. "Fine, do whatever." As she walked away, the girls began giggling at her little outburst and Carlos didn't once stick up for Y/n. He was never like this before. He wasn't even like this at their romantic dinner the night before. But Y/n got on with it and did what she wanted to do; dance.

As she lost herself in the music, a man managed to gather the courage and make his way towards her. "Hey gorgeous." The stranger smiled, dancing along with Y/n. Since Carlos was surrounded by these stupid instagram models, the least Y/n could do was talk to a guy surely. "Hey." Their conversation continued until the topic of relationships came up, to which Y/n said that she had a boyfriend.

"I don't see him." The stranger grinned, leaning closer. "Well, you see that guy up there with the huge bottle of champagne?" The guy nodded. "That's my boyfriend. Carlos. He just won the Grand Prix a few hours ago." The stranger looked between the spaniard and Y/n. "He looks occupied." He said, referring to the hoard of girls surrounding him. "Honestly, who gives a fuck. The only reason he won it was because Red Bull had a fuck up." The man laughed at Y/n's drunken joke, but she couldn't help but feel bad for undermining her boyfriend's hard work.

As she swayed with her newfound dance partner, Carlos watched from afar, a twinge of jealousy gnawing at him. His strides became purposeful, marching towards the dancing couple. His vision blurry, he poked the stranger. He turned. "Hey, you're Y/n's boyfriend. How you doing man?" He asked, putting his hand out. Carlos slapped it away. "Yeah, whatever. Who are you?" Y/n arched a brow at the sudden rudeness of Carlos. "I've been talking to Y/n since you've been occupied." He joked. "Are you accusing me of cheating on my girlfriend?"

"Carlos, what the fuck?" Y/n asked. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, I know what you want and you're not going to get it." Carlos began shoving the guy. "Because when I go back to my hotel room, I'm going to have her on her knees and screaming my name, while you sit by yourself with your left hand doing all the work-"

Carlos was silenced by a hard thump to the face, that ended with both his lip and nose bleeding. Carlos stumbled back, holding his nose. "Carlos!" Y/n rushed to his side, concern etched across her face. "Carlos, we need to leave. This is getting out of hand." He pushed her away, his drunken gaze defiant. "I don't need you. I can handle myself." Ignoring her, he swung at the guy, completely missing him and falling to the floor. "Carlos, we're going." Y/n repeated, this time more stern. Carlos scoffed and despite the chaos, Y/n managed to guide Carlos outside and hailed a cab. The ride home was tense, filled with silence interrupted only by the distant sounds of the city nightlife.

As Y/n scanned their key card, Carlos lay against the wall beside the door, looking at Y/n with pure hatred in his eyes. "You're such a bitch sometimes." He muttered. Y/n turned to him. "Excuse me?" The door beeped and Carlos practically burst it down. "You heard me. You're You're a bitch sometimes." Y/n closed the door behind her and followed Carlos to the bed where he kicked off his shoes. "How am I a bitch? People were filming you and I don't think you want to answer to your PR people tomorrow morning." Y/n rolled her eyes and sat down on the sofa, taking her heels off promptly. "Okay? You're still a bitch. I could have taken him." Y/n's frustration bubbled over as she demanded an explanation. "Carlos, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

Carlos glared at her, venom in his words. "I'm tired of this, Y/n. I don't want you in my life anymore." Stunned, Y/n pleaded. "Carlos, what are you tired of? We don't argue ever. Please, let's talk about it in the morning. You're drunk, and we can figure things out then." But Carlos was resolute. "No, I want you gone now. Pack your things and leave." Her eyes flickered as a few tears had fallen.

"You're so shit at this mate!" Max cackled, taking another sip of his beer whilst Pierre missed yet another goal on FIFA. The hotel room was filled with laughter as a few drivers had finished their clubbinv prematurely to instead play a few games of FIFA. The camaraderie and banter echoed through the room, creating a light atmosphere that temporarily eased the pressures of the racing world. Amid the gaming frenzy, a sudden knock on the door disrupted the jovial mood. "I'll get it." Charles said, walking towards the door. He expected some food from room service since they paid for it, but instead he was surprised to find Y/n Verstappen standing there, tears streaming down her face. "Hi, Charles." She sniffled.

"Y/n. Are you okay? What happened?" Charles asked, genuine concern etched on his face. Y/n, struggling to compose herself, managed to choke out. "Is Max here?"

Charles nodded, realizing something serious must have transpired. He stepped aside, allowing Y/n to enter the room. "Max? It's Y/n." The laughter hushed as the other drivers sensed the shift in the atmosphere. Max stood up. "Y/n? What's wrong?" A few words had been spoken in Dutch and it seemed that each word Y/n said, made Max angrier. The other drivers simply watched on, wanting to see what happened. "Where is he?" Max demanded in a demanding tone. "Max, please don't. That's the last thing I need tonight." Y/n pleaded. "No, I'm getting dad and we are sorting this." Max replied. "Max, no! He'll kill him!"

"And I will bury him. Don't worry about it." The drivers shared glances amongst one another as the siblings had run out of the room, closing the door behind them. "Are we going to see what happens or what?" Charles asks. "Seems like family stuff. I am leaving them to it." Pierre replied. "Seems logical." Lando added. Charles groaned as he left the room, following the sounds of loud shouting in both Dutch and English.

He looked down to see two figures banging on Carlos' door. "You don't treat my sister like this!" Max shouted as Y/n pulled from his arm, trying to deter him. "Max! Stop!" Charles shouted, trying to mediate, urging everyone to calm down. "If someone did this to your sister, you'd you'd the same!" Max shouted back at Charles. "Max! Not here! There are people trying to sleep." Charles said, reasoning with the dutchman. The commotion drew the attention of hotel staff and even a few curious guests. "Get out here, you fucking pussy!" Max had begun kicking the door now, not caring if it broke and deciding he'd worry about it if the door did break. The chaos continued until Max's father, joined the fray. The yelling and banging intensified, creating a scene that could be heard throughout the hotel.

Eventually, the rage subsided, as everyone agreed that Carlos must have passed out drunk and that it was a conversation best having in the morning. Max and Jos walked away as Charles stood by Y/n, tear-stained and emotionally drained. "Do you have a place to stay?" Charles asked. "I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind letting you stay." Y/n shook her head. "No. They're playing FIFA I don't want to have to kick them all out." Y/n replied. "Then I'll let you have my bed and Ill sleep on the floor." Charles offered. She smiled. "As nice as you're being right now, I don't need your pity. Im just going to fall asleep in my room and deal with this in the morning." She said. "Y/n, you can't possibly do that. I wouldn't wouldn't sleep in the same bed as him. You deserve better." Before Charles could even trg to convince her, she opened the door, re-entered her and Carlos' hotel room and closed it again without another word.

She had moved on from Carlos. In all honesty, she hadn't heard a lot from him. That was until she had come to her first Grand Prix single in 8 years. It felt weird not having someone to hold hands with, but she got on with it, showing her poker face and pretending not to care about her recent breakup. As she walked, she noticed an all too familiar spaniard, holding a gorgeous woman in his arms. It was a model, a model Y/n had seen on the catwalk of the Ferrari fashion event. That's where they must have met...back when Carlos was still in a relationship with Y/n. And that's how she found herself hiding like a kid scared of the dark, in between the Red Bull and Ferrari hospitality where no one could find her.

"Are you okay?" Y/n jumped as she wiped her eyes. "I- yeah. I'm fine. Who are-" She paused as she looked up to see Charles walking towards her. "What are you doing here?" Charles asked. "Inspecting the tyres, you?" Y/n replied quickly, drying her eyes. "Talking with the tyre inspector." Charles replied, sitting down next to her. Y/n looked up, her eyes swollen but grateful for the company. "Why are you crying?" Charles asked. "It's just-" Yhe tears had started again. "Carlos' new girlfriend is so much prettier, and she's so much skinnier and her hair is different, her eyes are different, we are just nothing alike and Carlos is just so happy with her." Y/n sobbed. Charles wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him as her tears stained his red shirt. "He's moved on and I'm sat, befriending stacks of tyres."

"Well that's not true. I'm not a stack of tyres, am I?" Y/n chuckled at the light hearted joke Charles had made. "No, no you're not." She replied. "You seem to be much nicer to talk to than a set of tyres, to be fair." Unbeknownst to her, Charles had been silently witnessing the intricate dance of emotions unfolding in the paddock. His infatuation with Y/n had started years ago, at one of Max's early kart races.

"Charles, you cut me off there! You could've caused a crash," Max argued, frustration evident in his voice. Charles, eager to impress Y/n, tried to maintain composure. "Max, I had the racing line! You should've anticipated my move." He chuckled, looking over to Y/n subtly to see her reaction. "Anticipated? You came out of nowhere!" Max shot back. As Charles vehemently defended his position, Y/n couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. She expected a spirited rivalry, but Charles's insistence on being right grated on her nerves.

"Charles, back down. You know I'm right." Max urged, trying to defuse the tension. Yet, Charles, fueled by both competitiveness and a desire to impress, doubled down. "Max, I won't back down when I'm right." The harder Charles pushed, the more Y/n saw a side of him she didn't like. She began to see why Max always yelled about how much of a diclhead Charles was and she fully agreed now. "Charles, seriously, I will be to the stewards about it." Max insisted, the frustration evident in his tone. But Charles, in his pursuit of proving himself, didn't heed the advice. As the argument escalated, Y/n couldn't help but feel a growing distaste for Charles.

"You know what, Charles? Forget it. We're done talking," Max declared, grabbing his helmet and walking away with Y/n behind him. "Hij is een klootzak." Y/n muttered. "Ah, dus nu zie je die kant van hem?"

"Why are you even here? Don't you hate me?" Y/n asked, too tired to move her head from his shoulder. Charles sighed. "I never hated you, Y/n. You started hating me so I pretended to hate you back." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "But you always seemed so distant, so cold." Charles cast his gaze downward, confessing, "I didn't want Max to think I was interfering. I liked you from when I was in karting, but you started dating Carlos and I just gave up."

"I wish I had known, Charles," Y/n admitted, wiping away tears. "I could've used a friend." Charles offered a reassuring smile. "Well, you have one now. And if you'll let me, maybe more than just a friend." She sighed. "As much as I would love to, I just don't think I'm ready to have a boyfriend, let alone date my ex's teammate." Y/n replied. "That's fine. He's out of a Ferrari seat for next year anyway." Y/n smiled. "Listen, I don't care how long it takes. I've waited like what, 15 years already? I may as well hold on for another while."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x female oc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you

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myhappylittlesideblog · 4 months

Text

See You When You Get Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Shane's a big jerk in this

Summary: Checking in with those going on a supply run creates some drama within the crew. (Season 1 ish)

A/N: My first Daryl piece! Needed some soft Daryl in my life lol. I haven't finished the show yet, currently in the middle of S.6 and it's been a long time since I watched season 1&2, so sorry for any inaccuracies.

Runs weren’t your thing. Not right now. Maybe in a few months you’d be able to stomach it- going out amidst walkers and even more twisted survivors to find food. And toothpaste. God, you needed toothpaste. But even with the protectors of the group on your side, watching your back, you knew you wouldn’t make it back to camp. Not right now. Maybe someday.

Everybody was clear on that. The “not right now.” So those going out on the supply run would check in with you, ask if you needed anything special and then leave you be to do their laundry or clean the little dishware you had all collected.

They collected. The ones who could collect things- those going on the runs. You just cleaned. For now.

“Hey.” It sounded more like a grunt than a word.

Daryl pulled you from your thoughts. Like a hand dipping into the waves to yank you up into the clear air to breathe.

“Need anythin'?” He asked once you looked at him.

You smiled. A lips pressed together - thanks for thinking of me - smile.

“The usual. Diamonds, meth, whatever you can find.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes.

“And toothpaste if you can find it. But I let Andrea know that.”

He gave a curt nod. “Kay.”

“See you when you get back,” you said to him.

A laughing hiss came from behind you. “Damn, girl, tell 'im how you really feel.”

Shane stood behind you. Snarky. Smirking. Shaking his head.

Though Rick was the one who found you on his way out of the hospital, it was Shane who let you join the group. At least, that’s how he saw it. You were grateful to him, he protected you, provided for you like he did the others. When you had no place to stay and no tent of your own, he let you share his. It was a generous gesture that was starting to come back to bite you each time Shane acted like he had a say in everything you did. Even more than the others in the group, that is.

“What?” you said.

His fingers dug into the belt loops in his jeans as he leaned to one hip. “Everybody else gets a pat on the shoulder or a hug. 'Be safe, keep safe,’” he said, imitating a whiny voice that wasn't quite yours. He shrugged. “Guess she couldn’t care less ‘bout you, Dixon.”

You heard the distinct click and jangle of Daryl putting his crossbow over his shoulder, ready to move out. Your jaw clenched at the thought of him leaving with Shane’s words in his head.

“Why would you even say somethin' like that?” You shot at Shane. “I would never-“

“Ya don’ haf’ta explain yerself,” Daryl mumbled to you.

“What was that?” Shane called.

“I said she doesn’ haf’ta explain herself to you,” Daryl said, taking a step toward you, but angling himself toward Shane. Ready.

“I think I know her better than you do, Dixon,” Shane said. “We share a goddamn tent-“

“You-“

“If you think,” you interrupted both of them, “that I’d say such a thing about any one of us, then you don’t know me at all. But Daryl’s right. I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

Shane’s eyes went narrow. He crossed the open space between you, the span of two tents, in just a few long strides. You felt Daryl stiffen at your side as Shane stuck his face near yours.

“You be careful who you align yourself with, (Y/N). If I were you-“

“Yer not.” Daryl said.

Shane didn’t take his eyes off you. “If I were you, I’d choose better than a redneck with a few arrows.”

Even with his harsh words, his gaze softened toward you. Then he turned away and made his way back to his tent.

Once he disappeared, you sighed, hoping the tension in your chest would dissipate with the air, but it didn’t.

“Dick,” Daryl mumbled.

A dry chuckle left you as you turned to him. His cheeks were pink with anger but his face was calm now.

“Daryl, when I said- I just meant that-“

“I know what ya mean when ya say it.” His arm snaked around your neck, pulling you into him. Fast, hard, and unexpected. “I’ll see ya when I get back.”

He spoke into your hair. You felt his lips and breath move against your skin. And then he let go, gone as fast as he appeared, and you watched him saunter toward the rest of the group going on the run, his crossbow fit to his back.

-------------------------------

A/N: A part two may come! I can't just leave you in a tent with Shane after all that, can I?

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl

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tamberella · 4 months

Note

Congratulations on your author debut, I'm so excited for your book!! 😇💕

Would you consider talking about the whole process of becoming a book illustrator /children's book author?

Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!! And I'd be happy to share the process!

It all started for me with my 3dTotal artbook. 3dTotal is a small publisher in the UK, and they mainly focus on collections of artists' work. They use Kickstarter to fund each book, and my agent (the amazing Seth Fishman at Gernert) discovered me through the Kickstarter for my artbook Windows to Worlds!

He asked if I had any interest in working on graphic novels or picture books, and I had already been thinking about picture books! He found me my first picture book project with Penguin Workshop, Mother of Sharks, written by the awesome Melissa Cristina Márquez, which came out last year!

While I was working on Mother of Sharks, I was also talking with him about developing The Bakery Dragon, based of course on this painting, which was (and is) one of my proudest artistic moments.

For a little background on the painting, I painted it right after a really challenging couple of months medically - I was dealing with medical complications from my chronic illness for about 6 months, and I wasn't able to finish a single painting the whole time, I was just too exhausted from hospital visits and being in pain. That painting was the first piece I was able to actually complete (both emotionally and literally) in about half a year. So it always held a really special place in my heart, and I really wanted to keep living in that little world. I think there's something in it that is very special to me, about being outside in the cold, seeing warmth and love through a glass barrier, and wanting desperately to reach it.

With Seth's guidance, over a couple months, I developed a pitch for it. The script developed slowly alongside the designs for characters, locations, etc.

(Early version of Ember above! He has changed a bit!)

I thought I had already read a lot of picture books, I've always loved them, but I read hundreds and hundreds during this process. There is something uniquely fun and challenging about telling a complete narrative in 48 pages (which is already a long picture book, many are 32!) My book also pulls some elements from comics, such as speech bubbles, which I found to be incredible assets for humor and character development.

My pitch included designs, some early example spreads, and a rough script with story beats and jokes! My agent took it out into the world, and the publisher we ended up going forward with was Knopf, an imprint of Penguin Random House! I absolutely love the Knopf team and the beautiful books they put out! My editor, Katherine Harrison, really understood what I wanted to accomplish and has been so incredibly helpful in her guidance!

And from there... through rewrites, dialog adjustments, and lots and lots of drawings, it became a book! I'm happy to answer questions about the process! I'll leave you guys with a little preview from the interior of the book! (And of course you can pre-order it here, gotta learn the author skill of always including that link haha!)

#ask #book making process #author process

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spacebaby1 · 4 months

Text

My Mistake (Sukuna x Reader)

You don't even remember how did you two started to argue but Sukuna had enough so he did what he would never do; he yelled at you, "SHUT UP! STOP SCREAMING AT ME GIRL." You weren't even screaming, immediately you stopped talking and completely shut yourself away from him.

You walked away with the blank look, it was way to early for either of you to argue, Sukuna sighed in defeat when he realised he could've just calmed you down and not argue but being the hot-headed that he was he had to argue. You didn't eat breakfast that morning just stayed in your room while Sukuna made the breakfast and waited for you to come down but you didn't.

Few hours later he entered the room only for you to grab your phone and walk out of the room without looking at him, he heard the TV downstairs and made his way downstairs and check on the breakfast he made for you still there on the table untouched. You were laying on the couch watching random show.

Sukuna sat by the edge of the couch trying to place your legs in his lap but you sat straight before he would reach for your feet. You both sat like that for hour before you walked away to the kitchen again not saying a single word. Sukuna smirked when he saw you reach for the jam jar that he tightened so you'd ask for his help, he got up to help you open the lid but the jar accidentally fell on the ground causing the shattered glass to splash everywhere and you yelped.

"Don't mov-"

"I'll clean it, I-I-I whe- oh the broo-Ouch" you couldn't finish the sentence as you accidentally stepped on the broke glass. Sukuna rushed towards you but you avoided him trying hard to not cry as you pushed your hair behind your ear trying to clean the mess and Sukuna wasn't having it. He could clearly see the floor coverd in your blood so was your feet. Without another word he picked you up and sat you on the kitchen counter, "Don't. move." He pointed the finger at you before getting a broom and cleaning the glasses away throwing them in the trash

Carefully he picked you up bridle style to the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the bathtub as he grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet, Carefully he pulled the piece of glass out of your feet earning a gasp from you as you held on his shoulder for support, "it's okay, it's out now, let me wash the wound, Okay?" He softly spoke to you and you just nodded looking down. You winched few times before pulling your hand over your mouth to hold back your cries, "Don't do that, you'll pop a vessel, it's okay to scream in pain, you know?"

You didn't reply, "are you still ang-" Sukuna heard your sobs and stopped talking trying to focus on wrapping the wound before he turned to look at you as you had your head low and were sobbing, "Hey, is it soo painful? Want me to take you to hospital?" He softly held your face rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks encouraging you to look at him. You shook your head, "I'm sorry for acting mean."

He pulled you to his chest, "you weren't mean, I was mean, I'm the one who should apologise, I'm an idiot idiot, please forgive me?" He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, "Hum, Princess? I'm so sorry, I will never yell at you ever again." You hugged him back, "I'm sorry for ignoring you, 'Kuna." He kissed your head, "I love you, you've got nothing to be sorry about, I'll be more careful with my words next time." You chuckled and nodded, "okay,"

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #angst #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna ryoumen x reader

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throwaway-yandere · 6 months

Text

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting.

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either.

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white.

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?"

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man.

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts.

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species."

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

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