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joelalorian · 2 months

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Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #eventual romance

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reiderwriter · 2 months

Note

For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!

A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️

Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).

Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye.

After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary.

At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest.

So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets.

Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation.

Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you.

The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence.

“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour.

“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?”

You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him.

Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son.

If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed.

“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son.

You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy.

You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by.

But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well.

“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”

Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.”

He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side.

“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.”

His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features.

“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare.

“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.”

“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.

“Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-”

“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation.

You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be.

Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure.

“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”

“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?”

“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.”

“Pretty…. Mom, please.”

“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.”

Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right.

It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him.

He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat.

He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her.

And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank.

He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently.

He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute.

“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?”

“Mom!”

“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.”

It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls.

The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you.

“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again.

“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange.

“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-”

“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”

“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.”

Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off.

“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears.

“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.”

He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply.

“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?”

“Yes.”

“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?”

“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-”

“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.

He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him.

“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?”

“You're serious?”

“I guess…. I guess I am.”

“And you're… you're single.”

Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face.

“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”

“Neither do FBI agents.”

“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?”

“Definitely.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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cherrychilli · 2 months

Text

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, lingerie, allusions to oral sex(F), PIV sex

a/n: I'm no seamstress by any means but I can do a decent enough job with a needle and thread and I love making my own lingerie from time to time so it got me thinking about dear sweet horny Eddie and what it might be like when you let him in on your little hobby.

You'd first told him about it a few months into your relationship, on a day when a press of his lips to the corner of your mouth had turned into open mouthed kisses, his tongue wrapped around yours. Eddie had pulled you closer to feel more of you then, settling you in his lap, pushing your skirt up to find the black, hand sewn lacy garters circling the thickness of your thighs, made dainty and pretty with ruching and bows.

He doesn't even know what they're called – all he knows is that he likes them, a lot and he tells you so between kisses, tracing the soft fabric with his fingers, pinching the delicate lace with a low whistle. He slips in a corny but sweet line about how it makes your thighs look like they've been giftwrapped just for him and that gets a giggle out of you, telling him you made them yourself.

"You serious?", he looks up at you, amazement shining bright in his deep mahogany eyes even when you try to downplay it, telling him it's not that hard. But your modesty does nothing to stop him from thinking you're the most talented person he's ever met and he reminds you of that mixed in with more praise when you change positions and he's down on his knees, slipping his fingers under each garter while he fits his head between your legs.

"Turning up in a pretty little outfit like this? that's begging to have my tongue on you, baby. You shoulda known that", he tuts against your clothed mound, licking a broad stripe up your panties, tasting the wetness that had gathered there on the black cotton.

He only pulled out the stitching on one garter that day – unintentional of course but unavoidable too given how tightly he had to hold you down in place as you writhed. It didn't trouble you though because it was nothing you couldn't mend with your needle and some thread back at home.

From then on, whenever you feel inspired to tackle a new design he's all sorts of encouraging, driving you and accompanying you to get all the things you need – all of the sewing supplies; fabric, thread, lace, ribbon, elastic and more. He helps you decide on which colors to get and he makes the gesture of paying for it all too, wanting to spoil you. Not to mention it's kind of like he's buying himself a present too, knowing you'll model the undergarments for him when you're done.

The most you let him help with after that is taking your measurements, letting him wrap the measuring tape around your hips and bust while you guide him on how to do it correctly but what that leads to is a lot of wandering touches and a few sneaky pinches on your ass, having to playfully swat his hands away if you hope to get anything done.

Eddie backs down with a little whine but all the faux pouting's just for show. He finds space on your bed while you look up DIY tutorials online at your desk before you get down to sewing, all of your supplies laid out neatly by your side, ready to be used.

While you're busy he spends his time strumming away on his guitar, pencil tucked behind his ear as he brainstorms lyrics for a new song. Both of you liked working on your own projects this way, in the same room because you appreciate having each other's company and presence to surround yourself with while you create.

Though Eddie had promised not to look too much he struggles to uphold that promise as he sneaks peaks at you cutting out patterns for a matching lace bra and panty set. He adores the cute way your brows scrunch together in concentration when you thread your needle and how you sometimes mirror him with your tongue pinched between your lips while you meticulously stitch all the individual cut outs together.

Somewhere between the time it takes you to get the panties finished and the bra started he approaches you, one hand clamped over his eyes so he can't see your progress – he knows how much you want to surprise him with the final result. Held out in the other is a mug of that tea you like, having made a quick trip to your kitchen and back, a bag of potato chips cradled in the crook of his elbow for you too.

You thank him and gladly take the offerings, cheeks growing warm when he plants a quick kiss on the top of your head. "Don't overwork yourself", he coos into your hair, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before he heads back to your bed and picks up his guitar again.

The tune Eddie's playing carries you through the rest of your stitching and close to an hour later you swivel your desk chair around in his direction. "I'm done", you announce with a sunny smile and he grins back at you, fingers abandoning his guitar. "You gonna get changed right now?" he asks hopefully, eyes twinkling.

"Yup", you answer him, popping the 'P' with a little wink. You gather the set in your arms, stepping into the bathroom. "Wait here, I wanna do a reveal", you tell him before closing the door, all giddy with girlish excitement, proud of how the it all came out.

The wait isn't long but every second that passes has Eddie feeling like his head's full of fireworks, finding it impossible to remain still, fingers drumming on his knees, legs hung over the side of your bed, socked feet tapping away on your carpeted floor.

You don't announce yourself once you've changed, unlocking the bathroom door and letting it swing open as you lean against the doorframe, letting your boyfriend take in your newest creation.

You know you've succeeded when his lips part, jaw going slack and his eyes going wide to rake over every inch of you, stunned.

He makes grabby hands at you and its somehow made cuter given his age so you step forward to let him get a closer look, occupying the space between his spread legs, letting him place his warm hands on the bare skin of your waist.

It's always a rare moment when Eddie goes silent, words escaping him as he quietly admires the way the material wraps around your proportions perfectly and the the cheeky cut of your panties as you do a little spin for him, the front a soft lilac satin, the back a matching shade of lace to reveal your ass through the floral embroidery.

The bra is simple – nothing too elaborate like some of the designs you'd scrolled through but it compliments the underwear well. The straps are thin and rest comfortably on your shoulders, the rest sewn in a longline style. It's sheer with the same floral lace as your panties so your nipples show through, your breasts supported well even without padding or underwire for extra softness, all with a tiny, pretty ribbon bow stitched right in the middle to match the one on the front of your panties too.

"You're so fucking beautiful", me utters, pulling you closer to kiss you right above your belly button, making your chest flutter with a thousand beating wings, a hurricane of butterflies taking flight just beneath your skin.

You let him lay you down on the bed and he's far more gentle than he needs to be when he slips your panties to the side, not wanting to stretch or snag the lace and ruin all your hard work. Your belly feels warm like sunlight spilling through your window in the morning because he's so careful with the pretty underwear while he runs a finger through your wet folds, making you feel like something as delicate as porcelain, something to touched with care and worshiped. It makes you hunger for more, pulling him closer by his shoulders.

"Wanna feel you inside", you place your lips on his, hands helping him to unbuckle his belt as he leans over you. You pull not so gently at his clothing, a big contrast to how he's handling you, tossing each article to the side impatiently while you remain in your cute little ensemble. You wouldn't be ridding yourself of your underwear tonight and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Can't believe I've got the prettiest doll in town all to myself", Eddie huffs a breath against the column of your neck at the same moment you suck one in, pressing his cock inside you, so thick and hard it makes the stretch that much better.

"And she's all dressed up just for me"

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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rivetgoth · 6 months

Text

Black Alternative Music Recs

Not being Black myself, I hesitate to make myself a spokesperson specifically for Black alt artists as I don’t want to be tokenizing or reductive and I’d rather, like, uplift the voices of Black alt people than just make my own lists, BUT, I keep seeing people in the comments of recent posts about Death Grips asking for recs for more Black alternative artists, and I do know a good amount, so as a really basic list I wanted to throw out a few artists I really like—

Light Asylum: Darkwave. Really incredible vocalist, and openly queer. “Dark Allies” is a huge goth club hit but all of her work is great. I’ve seen her live twice and her live concerts are incredible too. One of the bigger Black goth artists.

Ho99o9: Punk/Industrial Hip Hop. Another big one, they’re pretty well known at this point but if you DON’T know them you should. Huuuge variety in sound here, all of it is so fun and solid, absolutely amazing energy.

clipping.: Industrial/Experimental Hip Hop. Really fun and catchy, great lyrics, great mixing, great experimental electronic sound.

Void Palace: Industrial/EBM. Local LA-based act with an amazing industrial dance club sound and vibe. Seen them live and they bring such cool but crazy energy. Really really solid.

O. Children: Darkwave/Post Punk. Really classic gothic sound, amazing vocals, really underrated, theatrical, fun, and moody gothic rock.

Izzy Spears: Industrial/Experimental Hip Hop. Openly gay alternative hip hop artist with a heavy and super danceable beat. I saw him live and he sounded great and had awesome punky energy.

LUSTSICKPUPPY: Punk/Electro-Industrial. Has almost a hyperpop sound sometimes, super high BPM high energy danceable electronic music with a really crazy theatrical style to their performances (kicking myself for missing them last year!). ETA: LSP uses they/them pronouns, corrected now but apologies for missing that irt any older iterations of this post floating around.

Baby Storme: Darkwave/Ethereal Pop. I think she got a bit of popularity on TikTok recently? I don’t use TikTok so idk, but she’s great. Really well mixed, fun, super solid dreamy darkwave with a dancey pop sound intermixed.

Grizz: Darkwave Hip Hop. I JUST discovered this artist, he’s another LA local who just put out a new single that’s getting some attention and he’s really good. Super cool goth fusion sound with really great classic darkwave electronic backing. Check him out!

Cold Gawd: Shoegaze/Post-Hardcore. Iconically sells merch that says “ABOLISH WHITE SHOEGAZE.” Absolute powerhouse of sound; I saw them live and their music sounded torrential, like this intense, powerful storm.

Debby Friday: Dark Electronic/Experimental Hip Hop. Really really haunting and dreamy gothic sound. Collaborates with artists like Boy Harsher. Superbly mixed. Lots of variety in sound but very consistently strong.

Dre Robinson: Industrial/Experimental Electronic. Longtime cEvin Key/Skinny Puppy collaborator. He was on stage with Skuppy during the recent live tour, doing sound and playing the maggot maracas (iykyk). He’s also been involved in a ton of cEvin’s solo work and accompanies him on stage for his live solo shows.

Charles Levi: Industrial/Industrial Rock. Wax Trax!/90s industrial icon, did work for My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult and Pigface. He’s recently had a bunch of serious health problems and has a GoFundMe up of you’d like to donate. He contributed to so much classic industrial rock, it’s crazy.

There’s a billion more. These are just some artists I genuinely really like personally who are Black, and I think all of them deserve a ton of support and recognition as contributors to the alternative scene. There’s so many amazing Black-fronted alternative bands and projects, and I’m just scratching the surface with artists I know and enjoy, Also considered listing some larger names like Yves Tumor and Tricky, but I feel they’re slightly more well known in the mainstream with ~1mil+ listeners on Spotify and I wanted to highlight some slightly more underground voices (to varying degrees—obviously some artists here are more well known than others).

Check them out!! Support Black alternative music!

#goth #industrial #alternative music

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sserajeans · 5 months

Text

just for a moment

hanni pham x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your co-star are tasked to make a song for your web drama's soundtrack. your co-star happens to be a childhood friend whom you've had history with.

genre + others: lsrfm! reader, idol au, childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, second chance ish?

notes: not requested, PLS READ THE LYRICS IT'LL MATTER!!!!, how i look delaying yail update 😂😂, also yes another hsmtmts inspired oneshot, pics from @/wiotas

"what do we even fucking write about?"

"y/n..."

"sorry..."

how did you get here? glad you asked!

it's the year 2025, and a team of producers at hybe are on the works for a minor project: a web drama promoting support for the lgbtq+.

you've talked about how odd it was to your best friend, and groupmate, yunjin.

"probably good for publicity, girl. like 'make everyone know we're not homophobic!' kinda thing." was all she had to say about it, which was likely true anyways.

you were convinced the casting was done at random honestly, but it was obvious they wanted a mix of groups to garner more attention. and that landed you the lead role with, you guessed it, ms. hanni pham!

why you two when you each had members who fit the actress role better? well, that's where you thought the random part came to play.

filming wasn't much of an issue. you were comfortable with hanni, and you two worked well on and off screen, just as expected considering your history. the director even pointed out your "remarkable chemistry", but she didn't have to know why it was that way.

as a matter of fact, you guys were about to wrap up in a few days. it was a wild past couple of weeks, but it was nice to get to spend more time with hanni again.

i mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like you two cut each other off when you moved to korea, but the talking definitely decreased, and the filming made up for lost time!

now, on one of the last days of filming, your respective managers sat you two in a conference room together, and dropped the news that you'd have to compose a new song just for the web drama's soundtrack.

the task in itself didn't bother you at all, and you were sure it didn't bother hanni too. you two were experienced in songwriting and composing, your names on a couple of song credits to count, so this was actually much easier than acting.

the issue was that you had enough going on for certain... feelings to resurface.

you see, the plot of the web drama hit a little too close to home for you. i mean seriously, childhood friends with feelings for each other, but couldn't take things further due to complications, then having to work together acting in some play.

it sounded a lot like your story.

hell, they even had your character do swimming! the same sport you excelled in back in australia.

the only reason nothing has gotten too awkward on that note yet, was because of your other labelmates being there like boynextdoor's leehan, minji and danielle, even your fellow members kazuha and yunjin.

with them around, you got to reconnect with hanni, but with a couple safe boundaries! now that you two were tasked to work on something alone though? you were scared things were going to be different.

so that's what brought you two here, together, in the music room. hanni seated facing the table with a pen and paper, you on the floor with your guitar in hand.

you were strumming to any chord shape that could come to mind in hopes of finding a melody that you could build off of, and hanni was tapping the end of her pencil on her forehead for any word, lyric, or rhyme that could work.

nothing came.

so engrossed in your respective tasks, the two of you didn't notice a shadow behind the translucent door, so when a knock came, you levitated off the floor for a millisecond, and hanni let out a soft yelp.

"hey you two~"

huh yunjin.

"how are my besties doing!" she came in doing a little dance, first walking over to check on what hanni was writing before landing on the floor beside you.

"we're stuck." you muttered, head against the wall behind you.

"oh... i see." yunjin shrugged her eyebrows in confusion, because she had just came from peeking over at hanni's notebook and was 100% sure she had lines written down.

"well, let's see... you got the genre down that suits the two of you so there's that. romance obviously sells, so there's that too. maybe you guys should try... writing while in character?" yunjin did her best to help the two of you, as the mutual best friend and seasoned singer-songwriter. "or if there's an experience you guys have had before, that would definitely help. real raw emotion ya know?"

"anyways," the eldest huffed and got up from the floor, messing up your hair and hanni's before heading for the door to leave the room. "i gotta get going. you two don't come home too late okay?"

you and hanni nodded before resuming. after a couple minutes, you realized that maybe you two will have to be communicating more if it meant writing a song together.

"hey han, do you have anything written?" hanni froze for a second before turning around on her chair.

truth was she did. she wrote them down specifically as yunjin started telling you two to write based on experiences.

"i... uh... kind of? just a couple lines, i don't know how i feel about them though."

"can i take a look? might help a bit."

"oh yeah... sure..."

there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, but it'd look awfully suspicious if she scratched out lines right before you'd check.

"ah..." the initial reaction was surprise for you, and a million thoughts came racing through your head.

"yeah! it's nothing much... but i figured it was better than nothing...."

"no yeah! for sure! i'm kinda getting the vibe, wait here." you turned around and picked up your guitar from the floor and took a seat beside hanni. "uhm... okay let's try... this?"

you freestyled a riff on your guitar, allowing your fingers to move on its own to play what felt right. it resulted in one of the most simple yet enchanting melodies that seemed perfect for your song's intro.

"hey that sounds perfect! i love it!" hanni cheered and gave you a thumbs up. "okay so... since you're doing your little guitar intro, perhaps we have the first line written in your character's point of view?"

"sure... okay... uhm..." it took you a couple seconds to think of something, or to get in character on the spot. but then you remembered yunjin's advice.

an experience you guys have had before.

"uh... how's this..." you fiddled with your hands as hanni nodded along, telling you to go on with your suggestion. after about half a minute, you had a two-liner with some sort of melody that matched your guitar intro. "i fell in love with the only girl who knows what i'm about."

hanni froze for a second, which didn't go unnoticed by you, but continued nodding along as she wrote down the lines. "i like your voice in this genre."

"oh..." you looked up from your guitar and faced her side profile as she was still facing her notebook. you felt your face warm a little, but not too much for it to gain color. "that's a lot coming from you. i have your lee mujin service episode on loop."

hanni smiled, a sight you'd never get tired of seeing. "a fan, huh? which part's your favorite?" she turned to look at you, a smirk on her face to mask the flustered and proud version of herself having received praise for her work from you of all people.

she continued writing a line underneath yours, a sudden burst of inspiration coming over her.

"probably lucky."

of course it's the song about being in love with your best friend.

she chuckled at your answer. hanni wasn't dense, and she knew you weren't either.

okay maybe you were, just slightly, but you pick up on context clues.

but point is, she knew what that implied, and what everything that came between the two of you the past few weeks could've felt like for you.

but just as she was getting somewhere, her train of thought was interrupted by your "burst of epiphany", as one would call it.

"oh hey, hear this out. i think it sounds like chorus material." you tapped her shoulder and positioned your hands across the frets of your guitar. you sounded a lot happier, more energy than you did earlier in the day as you finally got a feel of what to write and play.

when we're underneath the lights, my heart's no longer broken, for a moment, just for a moment

in that moment, hanni's mind rushed with too many emotions. objectively, the melody was beautiful. your voice made it better, the guitar felt like it had a voice of its own, and the lyrics. god, the lyrics.

she knew for sure you felt what she felt.

the two of you stayed in that music room a couple more hours, discovering a new type of comfort in a person the other has always known. like reading a book you've had forever, and feeling a newfound joy in a character that has always been there.

by the end of the day, you and hanni seemed to have switched roles, your guitar in her hands, and her notebook in yours.

you were finishing up a final copy of the first half of the song along with chords in case you'd forget the sound. there was also a copy of the both of you singing on your respective voice note apps. (which, unbeknownst to you, would be on repeat for hanni later that night.)

"here we go." you sighed, it took a lot of effort trying to make handwriting like yours legible. you've always hated it. teachers back in elementary all throughout high school would always mark your papers low despite almost flawless answers, just for your handwriting.

"i've always liked your handwriting..." hanni muttered as she admired your written work, unknowingly smiling to herself.

"oh.. thanks. i've always hated it."

"i know." hanni looked up at you, observing the sheepish smile on your face. she knew all about why you hated it, and she understood, but to her, it was an art. a part of you. she thought, "that's why i like it."

there was partial truth into that. besides it being a funny add-on to hanni's compliment, it's always been her thing to love stuff about you that you hated, even if it was something as small as handwriting.

back when you two were together (or whatever that was you had back in australia before you left, neither of you stuck a label on it), she'd always talk long speeches about how your handwriting was an art. something so significantly you that you shouldn't change, and that even if you hated it, she'd love it twice as much in place of you.

as you two shared a couple more laughs, a notification popped up on both of your phones. yours first, then hanni's a second later.

a snort accidentally escaped your system as you read the texts. "sorry.. is it yunjin?"

hanni let out the loudest laugh before nodding and exchanging phones with you to read what the older sent to the other. it was the same message in different forms, panicking to get you home before chaewon freaked out and took it out on yunjin, then proceeding to fear minji and her "wrath".

despite laughing at your member's worry, the two of you stood up to pack up, which really didn't take much anyways. you slid your guitar in its case, hanni hid her notebook in her bag.

walking out of the room to the lobby together side by side was probably the most stomach-churning activity of the day. and you literally had to write a love song about each other with each other. but there was something in the way it felt when your hands touched.

as you reached the part of the building where you finally had to part ways, the two of you faced each other. both expecting something, but not quite sure with what they were expecting.

"i.. uh... it was nice to reconnect today." she started off, awfully awkward at it too.

"yeah... it was..." you smiled, hand reaching for the back of your neck to scratch. a nervous habit. "i'll let you know if i think of anything tonight."

"yeah, same here." hanni nodded back, though a pinch of disappointment evident on her face. maybe she was expecting more, or maybe it was too soon. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah... see ya." you slowly turned around, head racing.

should you say something? should you save it for another time? would it make things awkward tomorrow?

screw it. live in the present, right?

"han... for the record, my heart does still stop when i see you."

#hanni pham x reader #hanni x reader #hanni imagines #hanni pham imagines #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #girlgroup imagines #hanni fanfic #Spotify

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gureumz · 1 year

Text

lulong ka na sakin at parang hibang (soul ties)

rating: explicit

member: sunoo

notes: fem!reader, best friend/roommate!sunoo, dom!sunoo, light cnc, spanking, degradation (a lot), praise (a little), unprotected sex

a/n: i know i said i'll make this nasty, but i know i can do even worse than this hashfhs but for now, please accept this <3 title is a lyric roughly translating to "you're addicted to me as if you're crazy" from illest morena's soul ties.

you sigh heavily, letting your hand fall to your side. your breathing's heavy and the remnants of an orgasm slowly fade away as you catch your breath.

you eye the bullet vibrator in your hand, wondering when you were last fucked.

too fucking long ago, that's for sure.

you roll out of bed, a groan escaping your lips as you did so. lately, toys and your own fingers just barely got you across. you missed being fucked senseless, you missed the heated kisses, you missed the fingers buried deep in your cunt.

you knew you had your workload to blame for the lack of action. all the pent-up stress and late nights poring over client briefs were getting to you. you needed a release, an actual release, or else you're going to blow.

you walk out of your bedroom, stretching, enjoying the slight chill in your apartment amidst the hot summer day. dragging your feet the rest of the way, you find yourself in the living room. a movie plays on the tv, the lights dimmed for effect.

you turn to the man perched right in the middle of the sofa, leaning forward as if totally enamored with the scene displayed on the screen.

sunoo can get really serious with his movies.

"move," you mumble, squeezing into the plush loveseat. sunoo moves over, not even sparing you a glance. you make a face at him, wrapping your arms around one of his own, face squished against his bicep.

"it's late," sunoo points out, glancing at you momentarily.

"i know," you retort, yawning. sunoo chuckles, tugging his arm free.

"go to bed, _______. you have work tomorrow," sunoo informs, eyeing you with a slightly worried expression.

"can't sleep," you complain, sighing. "couldn't for the last few days, actually."

sunoo turns his attention away from the movie. "is there something wrong?"

you shrug, but you already know what's been keeping you awake at night.

"well, i can see you've been looking pretty miserable lately," sunoo offers sympathetically, running a hand up and down your back.

you groan, rubbing at your face.

"i just—," you begin, bringing your hands down to look sunoo straight in the eye. "don't laugh, okay?"

sunoo throws his hands up as if to say, 'go ahead'. you take a deep breath, thinking of how to formulate your next sentence.

"i think i'm just sexually frustrated," you admit. sunoo nods slowly.

you suddenly get the urge to avoid eye contact as you realize how blunt that came off. you busy yourself with a loose thread on your pajamas.

"oh," sunoo replies. there's an extended pause and you feel your insides churning in embarrassment.

"understandable," sunoo concludes, patting you on the back. you look back at him, a pained expression on your face.

sunoo laughs, pinching your cheek. for a moment, it hurts a little too much but it quickly subsides. you wonder how it would feel to have someone dig their nails into your skin as they grip your jaw.

you blink, trying to rid yourself of that thought. you huff, leaning back further into the couch.

"it just totally escaped me how long i've gone without fucking someone," you explain, mentally counting back the months since your last sexual encounter.

"how long has it been?" sunoo curiously asks.

"like, six months, give or take."

sunoo whistles lowly before chuckling awkwardly. "that is a long time."

"right?!" you affirm, frowning up at sunoo. "i bet you slept with someone lately."

sunoo laughs in disbelief, looking at you with a mix of surprise and indignation.

"how dare you speculate about my sex life?" sunoo says dramatically, elbowing you lightly in the arm.

"no speculation needed, sunoo," you inform, tilting your head towards him. "i can hear you."

sunoo's mouth falls open, eyes flitting momentarily to his bedroom door right beside yours. he looks back at you with a sheepish grin.

"well, i mean...," sunoo trails off, silently gesturing around with his hands.

"...yes."

you burst out laughing, swatting lightly at sunoo's thigh. you notice how short the shorts he's wearing actually are.

"i feel like i have to fuck someone soon or else i'm gonna explode," you complain, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

sunoo doesn't respond, joining you in fidgeting with another loose thread on your bottoms. you squirm, pulling away.

"that tickles," you comment absentmindedly.

"have you tried dating apps? how about that guy that you met at one of your events?" sunoo suggests, fingers now running over the velvety material of your pajamas.

"i don't know...guys on those apps are more often than not unsatisfactory," you point out. "and that guy from the event isn't all that good either."

"i see," sunoo replies. you turn to him and his eyebrows are pulled together as if he's deep in thought. he's still running his hand over your pajamas.

sunoo catches your eye and you stare for a moment. his hand stops dangerously close to your inner thigh.

"do you think you're good in bed?" you ask sunoo. he pulls his hand away, laying it on his chest as if to clutch at invisible pearls.

"why would you ask me that?" sunoo demands, seemingly offended, but his sentence breaks out into a giggle at the end.

"i don't know," you admit. "you have a lot of people over. i'm sure some of them are returning participants."

"wouldn't you like to know?" sunoo teases, sticking his tongue out at you before crossing his arms.

you pause. your eyes linger back down to the exposed skin of sunoo's thighs, smooth and seemingly flawless. you observe his forearms next, muscles taut against his chest, which, to your knowledge, is pretty firmed up. you meet sunoo's eyes and they immediately widen.

"don't say yes," sunoo warns, scooting to the end of the loveseat. he holds his arms out as if to ward you off.

you roll your eyes, turning away from him. "please, why would i want to know?"

"no, because...," sunoo begins. you look back at him curiously. "if you say yes, i'll say yes."

"for real?" you ask in surprise. you eye sunoo cautiously, looking for any indicator that this is a prank. you're positive this must be a prank.

sunoo nods.

"you're my best friend," you reason, still convinced he's pulling your leg.

"yeah," sunoo says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "i'm helping you out. and, like, we both get something out of it."

"what are you getting out of it?"

sunoo gestures vaguely with his hands. "i get my dick wet?"

"that's weird," you deadpan.

sunoo sighs, reaching over for the remote to pause the movie still playing on the tv. he turns back to you and looks you directly in the eye.

"look, if you don't want to, just say so," sunoo says, raising an eyebrow.

"i—," you start.

you would be lying if you said you haven't thought about it before. someone with a dick and someone with a pussy renting a whole space together? when both are single? and in their early adulthood? the mind tends to wander.

sunoo stands from his seat. "last chance before i go to bed."

you bite your lip, giving sunoo a once-over. you're fully aware of the sounds that come from his room whenever he has someone over. the thought of sunoo doing...things to excite them that much stirs something in you.

"promise this won't make things weird?" you ask, standing up to get closer to sunoo's height. not that it makes much of a difference. he towers over you, either way.

sunoo smirks down at you, shaking his head no. he reaches out to you, rubbing up and down your arms.

"okay," you say, nodding.

"okay," sunoo mimics. he pulls you closer to him, nearly pressing your chests together.

"i'm going to kiss you now," sunoo warns, cradling one side of your face.

you nod, hypnotized by just how pretty he is up close.

"you have to tell me that you're okay with it," sunoo whispers, and you think you hear a hint of condescension in his voice.

"please," you whisper back. "kiss me."

sunoo wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours. you gasp against the kiss, surprised at how intense sunoo starts out. he parts his lips and you mirror the action. the inside of his mouth is warm, your breaths mingling as sunoo roughly pushes you toward the direction of his room.

it's a challenge, walking backward the way you are right now, but sunoo keeps a firm grip on the back of your neck and on your waist, steering you where you need to go. finally, he gets his bedroom door open, practically shoving you inside.

the two of you stumble onto his bed, the wind knocking out of you for a moment as your back hits the mattress. sunoo hovers over you, hoisting you further up his bed as if you weighed nothing at all.

"safeword?" sunoo asks, hands slipping under your shirt. you swallow, thinking about what the two of you could possibly end up doing for it to warrant a safeword.

"p-pajamas," you mutter, feeling sunoo's fingers graze your breasts. sunoo nods, cupping both in his hands.

"can't believe you've been hiding these from me," sunoo comments mischievously, kneading away at your boobs.

you inhale, squirming under sunoo's touch. he squeezes, hard, and you back arches off the bed.

"ngh—!" you gasp, trying to pry sunoo's hands off you.

"what, i thought you wanted this?" sunoo questions innocently. he jams a knee to your core, and you mindlessly start to grind down, wetness instantly pooling between your legs at the friction.

"you're humping my leg like some desperate puppy," sunoo says with a chuckle. "you really must be so frustrated. aren't you, doll?"

you look at sunoo and his whole expression is darkened with lust. he's not the sunoo you cook breakfast with on weekend mornings, he's not the sunoo who counsels you on your numerous failed situationships, and he's definitely not the sunoo that cheerily greets you every time you get home from a long day at work.

this sunoo is set on one thing, and on one thing only: to give you what you asked for.

"please," you whimper. "please, i need it."

"need what?" sunoo asks, pulling away. you grab at him in desperation, wanting the feeling of his firm thigh back against your pussy.

"need you," you say in a hurry. "need you so, so bad."

sunoo grins darkly, eyes raking over your disheveled figure on his bed.

"where do you need me?" sunoo asks again, running his hands up and down your thighs. your legs immediately spread, and sunoo laughs.

"someone's forgotten how to speak, it seems," sunoo observes, two fingers pressing into your core through your clothes. your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp.

"pathetic, needy whore," sunoo says with overflowing venom. you shake your head, tears prickling in your eyes from the words. you feel your throat constrict, and you know you're about to cry.

it's a thrilling feeling.

sunoo makes a disappointed noise. "and a crybaby, too."

sunoo roughly grabs at your shirt, hiking it up over your boobs. "off," he commands.

you wiggle out of the garment as best you can while lying down, tossing it to the floor. sunoo dips down, latching on to one of your nipples. his tongue flicks against it mercilessly. his teeth graze it ever so slightly.

"s-sunoo," you whine. "too much, too much!"

"too much?" sunoo asks, pulling away. "baby, i'll show you what 'too much' is."

sunoo undresses, his half-hard cock in full view. you gape at it, unsure of what you were expecting, but you know for sure that it's mouthwateringly pretty.

sunoo harshly pulls your bottoms and underwear down, practically dragging you off the bed in the process. your heart beats wildly in your chest, still unable to comprehend how a gentle being like sunoo is acting this way with you.

"so wet," sunoo observes, toying with your cunt. he runs a finger lightly through your folds and your hips buck desperately.

"like this, sweetheart?" sunoo says lightly, teasing your clit with just the tip of his finger.

"more," you moan, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

sunoo increases the pressure against your clit, unwavering eyes watching your every reaction. you mewl and whine pathetically, wanting him to just give it to you.

"jesus, you really are just so ready to be fucked," sunoo says with a laugh. he plunges two fingers into you without warning and you cry out.

"is this what you want?" sunoo demands, grabbing your face so you could look at him. "want me to fuck you with my fingers and cock?"

you nod vigorously, a strangled moan ripping through you as sunoo's fingers stretch you out. he expertly moves them in and out, angling up to hit that one spongy wall in you. you feel pressure build up in your belly and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"yes!" you gasp, your whole pelvis moving up to meet his fingers.

sunoo's hand moves down to your neck, pressing you down to the bed. you try to breathe in but it proves difficult, and the subsequent lightheadedness feels like heaven to you.

"you really shouldn't go this long without getting fucked," sunoo says with a shake of his head. "it turns you into a greedy slut."

you cry for real this time, all the sensations assaulting you from all sides. you haven't been fucked this intensely before, and it feels so, so good.

suddenly, without warning, you feel the pressure give way in your abdomen, and you feel a gush in between your legs. sunoo lets go of your neck, caught off guard as well by what you've just done.

sunoo's sheets are drenched and you can see your release coating his arm and part of his chest and abs, too.

"you're killing me here, _______," sunoo smirks, shoving the fingers that were just inside you right into your mouth. you obediently suck, tasting the hint of saltiness of yourself.

"gotta find out what else you're hiding from me," sunoo concludes, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

in a second, he flips you over on your belly, your face shoved down onto the bed. you lay there, splayed out flat, fully in sunoo's mercy.

sunoo grabs you by your hips this time, pulling your ass flush against his front. you lift yourself up on shaky arms, your first orgasm rendering your limbs jelly-like.

a loud smack resounds inside the room, followed by a sting on your ass cheek. you lurch forward, caught by surprise.

another spank rains down on you, and another, and then another. you lose count after five as your mind hazes over.

"please," you beg, tears spilling once again from your eyes. "no more, no more, no more!"

sunoo leans down so his lips are right next to your ear. "no more? do you want me to stop, angel?"

you shudder as sunoo's breath tickles your ear. you merely sob in response, the throbbing in your pussy the only thing you can focus on at the moment.

sunoo tenderly kisses your temple. "one last."

sunoo delivers his hardest spank yet, and you wail, burying your face into his pillows. you nearly lose all coherent thought, the only thing on your mind being the need for sunoo to fuck you brainless.

you collapse on the bed entirely, body shaking. whether from anticipation, pain, or exhaustion, you can't seem to figure out.

you're flipped back over onto your back and you see sunoo leaning over before kissing you sweetly. he rubs at your sore backside, trailing kisses down the side of your face.

"good girl," sunoo mumbles against your skin. he pulls away just enough to gaze at your tear-streaked face.

"you okay? do you need a break?" sunoo asks, expression back to the one you're most familiar with, the one that belongs to the person you swear could never do the things he just did.

you shake your head, still feeling the ache in your core.

"please sunoo," you implore. "need you inside. need you to fuck me."

sunoo's eyes darken again as he nods, pulling himself upright. he yanks your legs apart, observing your glistening pussy. he brings his hand down to it, a wet smack echoing throughout the room.

you let out a garbled noise, your whole body jerking in response. sunoo repeats this a few times.

"gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?" sunoo interrogates, looking at you expectantly.

"yes! yes, please, fuck me!" you say, voice strained.

sunoo pulls you closer to him, smashing your lips together in a messy kiss. you eagerly kiss back, clinging to him as if he might disappear at any moment. sunoo angles his hips and slides inside you in one swift motion.

you groan at the sudden fullness, feeling sunoo deep inside you. he fucks you harshly, pushing you down on the bed and into a mating press. you watch sunoo's face scrunched up with concentration, sweat dripping down his chiseled features.

"fuck, you feel so good," sunoo grunts. "gonna fuck this pussy every day."

you clench down at those words. "please, need you like this every day."

sunoo moans, head thrown back as he continues to fuck into you with abandon. you're overwhelmed yourself, your walls stretching and stimulated from the drag of sunoo's dick in and out of you.

"sunoo!" you cry out, mind blanking with nothing else but your best friend filling your brain. "sunoo, sunoo, fuck yes, sunoo!"

"yeah, let the neighbors hear," sunoo taunts, this time, striking you across the face. your vision blurs for a moment, more shocked than hurt.

"you want them to hear, don't you?" sunoo goes again, slapping you from the other side of your face. you don't even know what you say in response, but you assume it pleases sunoo to hear because he adjusts his angle with a groan and fucks into you even faster.

"dirty whore," sunoo says through gritted teeth. "making your best friend fuck you just because you haven't had dick in months."

you let out a string of curses, the overwhelming pressure building up again inside you. you're positive that this one will be even bigger than the first.

your orgasm seizes your entire body, your limbs tensing up as you're overtaken by pleasure. sunoo moans out your name, sheathing himself fully inside you as he cums, shooting his load deep within your walls. you make a mess all over yourselves again, your juices seeping out and dribbling onto the bed.

sunoo catches himself before he tumbles over, pulling out abruptly. you whimper, the sudden ache of emptiness surprising you. sunoo sits up, watching you intently. you lay there, a gasping, crying mess.

"sshh," sunoo soothes, pulling you into his arms and cradling you to his chest.

"you did so well," sunoo compliments, kissing you on the forehead. you take big gulps of air as you steady your breath, blinking away the remainder of your tears.

"that was amazing, sun," you mumble, words slurring around the edges as exhaustion catches up to you.

"thank you, baby," sunoo says, smiling down at you. "so were you."

you grin sleepily, laying your head on sunoo's chest.

"don't sleep yet, dumbass," sunoo says, laughing. "we made a mess, so we gotta shower."

you whine in protest, curling further into sunoo. your best friend sighs, carefully sliding off the bed, grunting as he scoops you into his arms.

"come on," sunoo begins chirpily. "i'll clean you up."

"thank you," you respond, kissing sunoo's neck. "love you."

sunoo giggles, attacking you with multiple kisses to the face.

"love you, too."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #sunoo smut #sunoo scenairos #w: sunoo

866 notes · View notes

bestedoesmeow · 9 months

Text

what about us?

daniel ricciardo & ex!gf reader

request :Heyyyy, could you maybe do a Daniel Ricciardo x Ex-GF!reader where they run into each other at a vacation(they’re both alone), and as they spend time together, they realise they’re not over each other. It could be a mix of one shot and smau

song to listen while reading: pink - what about us

You see him standing there, his gorgeous smile on his lips, holding his beer. His body moves lazily with the rhythm, his lips syncing with the lyrics, "Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive." He talks to the person next to him, effortlessly beautiful, just as you remember him. Suddenly, his eyes catch yours after years. It's the first time in years; you had avoided watching him race, laugh, or be interviewed to avoid eye contact, even from the screen. To forget him: his smile, his touch, his laughter.

Your blood rushes through your veins, your hands slightly shake with the contact, your cosmopolitan leaves stains on your white dress as he makes his way towards you. His steps drawing closer, your heart beats louder, heavier, faster.

"Enchanté," he says, as if trying to remind you that after years, you're in Paris again. Together, but not like before.

"Enchanté," you manage to say, hiding your shaky hands by placing your drink on the nearest table. His eyes are even brighter, more beautiful than you remember.

"It's been years. What are you doing here?" he asks, a big smile on his lips.

"Here for a holiday with a few friends. What about you?"

"We're on summer break; came here with some of the guys from the grid," he points to three guys dancing and drinking next to the cocktail table.

"You look fantastic," he adds, probably unaware of its effect on you.

"Thank you. Yeah, you too," you stutter, trying to smile and avoid flashbacks of your last night together upon hearing his voice.

8 YEARS AGO

"I know, I understand you have to move there, and I fully support you, but what about us?" you say, tears filling your eyes. His hands cup your cheeks, and he gets closer on the couch. Tears well up in his eyes as he watches you cry, perhaps for the last hour.

"We're going to be okay. We can try long distance, FaceTime every night. You can visit me, and during breaks, I'll come here, huh?"

"Promise you won't let me go? Won't get tired of me, the FaceTimes, the long hours of traveling."

He presses his nose to yours, breathing slowly to hold back tears. "I'd never, ever get tired of you, Y/N. If there's something more important to me than my career in F1, it's you. Nothing in this world can take me away from you," he says, leaving a peck on your lips.

"I promise too. I'll try my best to make this work, what we have."

He left home three days after your conversation, and you decided to break up in the second month of the long distance. He was aggressive, stressed, busy. You decided to give him the break he seemed to want. He didn't say anything, but he cried for hours in the motorhome, had the worst qualifying sessions. Meanwhile, you left your house, moved back in with your family, and changed schools.

It wasn't truly over, of course. No one came into your life during those years, not even in Daniel's case. All you could think of was him: the late-night talks, the way he touched you, the way you loved each other.

He was a beautiful trauma.

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

"How's everything going? Are you done with school?" he asks, while you're lost in memories.

"Oh yes, I'm teaching at an elementary school in Boston now," you say, catching him looking you up and down.

"I'm so proud of you, Y/N. I always knew you'd be a great teacher. Look at you."

"I'm proud of you too. You look great in the Red Bull suit," you say, mostly confessing. "I knew all of this would bear fruit."

"You've always been so supportive. I can never thank you enough," he says.

"So supportive that I couldn't bear anyone with any less supportiveness. I am- was addicted to you," he panics, swiftly changing the word.

"Is there anyone? Has there been anyone?" you ask, the words coming out unexpectedly.

"No, it was never after you, and I don't think it ever will be after you."

"I missed you, Daniel. I missed you for days, weeks, months, and years. I learned how to cope with it, but I never learned enough to forget you. You'll always be my favorite person," you say, tears welling up in your eyes. Your hands cup his cheek, and your body shivers with the touch, contact after years. His eyes well up, and his lips curl into a painful smile.

"Thank you, baby. Thank you for everything you sacrificed for me. I love you, I love you forever," he says, kissing the palm of your hand.

"Thank you for showing me what love is, Danny. I'm so thankful. Maybe we're meant to be in another universe?" you say, bursting into tears with your last words. His arms pull you into a tight hug, his lips moving on your hair, leaving peck kisses.

"I don't think I'll be leaving you now that I've found you."

349 notes · View notes

redclercs · 11 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

x. what a shame she's fucked in the head.

— the one where they tell you what your word is worth.

❝𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦❞ —𝘛𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵, 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵.

warnings: abuse downplay, bashing towards taylor swift (i obviously adore her pls don't come for me haha), online bullying, new york inaccuracies, corny taylor references per usual, etc. 2k words + articles

in my head there's a mix of begin again and cornelia street playing as background music.

masterlist ✢ next

NO one likes a mad woman, but not for the reasons Taylor Swift made you believe in the lyrics of her 2020 song. Although we are definitely afraid y/n might get 'more crazy'.

Honestly, who gave her the right to speak like that about Aidan Kim? As it turns out, the three-year relationships she willingly stayed on was a 'dead-end' one, and Aidan "abused" (and I cannot stress the quotations enough) her through several stages of their shared time.

Well, I call bullshit.

How is it that after Aidan Kim helped her build whatever she has going on that people call a 'career' she wasn't bothered about being told 'how to look and how to act' (direct quote from her own video, by the way).

Breaking up with your sneaky link and calling him your friend won't save what you did before, y/n, it's the oldes trick in the book. Everything she said in her Youtube video, one I regretfully watched despite the knowledge that I won't get those 45 minutes of my life back, is rehearsed and calculated and just tried to paint the real victims in a bad light.

Playing the victim worked for Taylor Swift in 2009, 2017, 2019... but we surely won't let it happen again, right folks? y/n needs a new tactic to crawl back from the hell, because we're not believing anything that comes out of her mouth anymore.

It's true what they say, an untalented actress makes an untalented liar.

By Lia Yim

Victoria Presley is worried about best friend's y/n y/ln's well-being after the actress 'completely ghosted her' since moving back to New York.

"One day we were fine and the next, she had packed her bags and left my house," Presley said in an exclusive interview with iNTouch. "I'm not going to lie, I was deeply hurt by her actions. I offered her my home as a safe haven and she left without explanation."

y/n had been living in Victorias Los Angeles home since mid-February until this month when she returned to her infamous SoHo apartment, one she shared with Aidan Kim until their breakup.

"I can find it in my heart to forgive her, of course," 'Vic', as she's known on social media, added. "Right now, I just want my best friend back. I want the y/n I've known for years and not this person she became since Matilde Bassi and Charles Leclerc inserted themselves in her life."

Victoria Presley, the founder and CEO of Presley Beauty, is the daughter of Luke Presley and Claire Walker and has been in the influencing business for a few years now.

"If y/n ends up reading this, I want her to know that I will support her decisions but not in the way her new 'friends' are doing. I just want what's best for her."

SEE ALSO:

→ Vic Presley on having to start from zero: "I'm not a nepobaby!"

→ A look inside y/n's SoHo apartment, the one Aidan Kim paid for.

→ Is Charles Leclerc's career going downhill thanks to y/n?

By Beatrice Mann

With y/n y/ln's latest controversy, the whole world has turned their backs on the actress. But, is it really that bad? Or is it just because she's a woman in the business?

The online community's hottest topic is y/n's Youtube video where she speaks on her relationship with Aidan Kim, her friendship with Charles Leclerc and, most importantly, how all of this has affected her career. And I want to tell you all, y/n is right.

If the roles were reversed, Aidan Kim would be thriving on a newly unlocked 'Heartbreaker' persona and y/n would still be constantly humiliated for not being 'wife material'.

I believe y/n deserves much better than what she's getting. The woman admitted she escaped a relationship where her partner LAUGHED at her and manipulated her actions for his comfort. And people are still siding with the man? Seriously, people, use your brains and dig up your morals!

The only thing we're communicating to younger generations by constantly doubting women's words and putting them in the spotlight for standing up for themselves, is that only men's words are worth something.

June 14th, Manhattan, New York.

It isn't much of a surprise when Charles calls you while you're trying to get your Moka pot to work that morning. It's your third attempt at it and the previous mornings you've left it alone with tears in your eyes to walk down the street and get Starbucks coffee. You might be a little too attached to that coffee maker.

Charles got to New York city the previous night, and reminded you that you promised to show him around more than once. You intended to keep your promise, thinking you would have more time before the day came.

But as you walk to the restaurant where you decided to meet him, you can't help but think how exciting it is that you get to show the city you love so much to Charles. And just like that morning in Monaco, you can't help but remind yourself that this is a friendly get-together.

Charles has slowly, but surely, become one of your closest friends in the middle of the frenzy that your life is. With your ex-best friend saying you walked out on her and your failed fiancé insisting that it was you, who acted like a 'total psychopath' towards the end of your relationship, you have more fingers than people you can count on.

You watch him carefully as he smooths the napkin on his legs twice and then drops in on the table again, fidgeting with the loose threads in the corner.

Your wristwatch says it's 10:00 am, which is the exact time you agreed to meet. You wonder how long he's been waiting if there's an empty cup of coffee in front of him.

"You know, it's also rude to be too early for a meeting," you say as a form of greeting once you approach the table.

This startles him enough to drop the napkin on his lap again, proceeding to scramble to return it to the table before pushing his chair out to get up.

You chuckle, but before you can say you were joking, Charles is engulfing you in a hug. Your stomach flutters because of the way he holds the back of your head with his palm. It feels like you're being reunited after months instead of just two weeks. Time doesn't feel real sometimes, you would know.

"Soleil!" he says excitedly, putting his hands on your shoulders. "It's so good to see you,"

"It's nice to see you too, Charlie."

There's the nickname again. You've tried not to think too hard about it. Is it a European thing to call your friends that? When you asked him about it the last time he called before taking his flight to New York, his response was a simple 'it suits you'.

Charles pulls your chair for you and grabs your purse to place it on the empty chair between you two. He grabs his napkin again, pulling one last time on a thread before smoothing it down and forgetting about it.

"How are you?" Charles asks, a bright smile on his face. It falters in a barely perceptible way because he doesn't want to give you bad thoughts, which seem to come automatically every time the question is asked.

"Well, I'm okay," you assure in a soothing tone, "Still looking for jobs. And you?"

"Alright. Lots of work in the simulator and I'm hoping this is a good weekend,"

"Are you sure you'll be okay getting to Montreal tomorrow?" you smile at the waitress that approaches your table, "Can I have some coffee, please?"

"Of course," Charles assures, with a gesture of his hand. He's getting to Montreal at seven in the morning and running straight to his motorhome. "There's time for everything."

"What do you want to do, then?"

You don't want to exhaust him by showing him around New York, he has a long weekend ahead. To be honest, you really wonder what compelled him to make this stop instead of going straight to Canada. Sure you had talked about him coming to New York, eventually. Not a day before he had to start his Grand Prix weekend.

"Anything you want us to do," he replies, the single-dimpled smile on his face. "I'm open to anything."

"MoMA? Central Park? Something not so touristy?" you suggest, before thanking the waitress as she places a hot cup of coffee on the table.

"Just show me the places you like, y/n, don't stress about it." Charles laughs, eyes returning to the open menu in front of him. "I only care about hanging out with you."

"Thanks," is all you manage to say as you sip the scalding coffee, you do your best not to wince as it burns your tongue and down your throat. "Let's do it then."

"So, what do you think? Everything you expected and more?"

You're taking a walk in Central Park after Charles agreed to see the Alice in Wonderland statue. It's a warm morning in New York and although you haven't been walking around for that long, Charles seems content enough with what he's seen.

"It's very... you," Charles replies, and you're sure he means it as a compliment, but New York can be really ugly too. "In a good way!" he adds when he sees your expression.

"Thank you, Charlie." you laugh again. It's easy being with Charles, laughing with sincerity and really being in what's happening in the moment.

You didn't lie when you said you weren't afraid of speaking up anymore, but the dread of actually doing it is inevitable. Your words are being twisted and marked as false because Aidan is far 'more loved' than you are. Not to mention Victoria's interview about your lack of reciprocity to her humble feelings

You're still thinking about suing her. But it hurts to know that she was your best friend a week ago.

A few people stop you both to ask for pictures and autographs on the back of phone cases. A few of them ignore you, others smile politely at Charles before asking him to take their picture with you.

"I'm really polishing my photographing skills," Charles jokes as you walk away from a group of young girls who gush about how much they wish they could dress like you.

"Sorry if it bothers you," you whisper, looking at him only from the corner of your eye.

"Of course not, y/n. They ask nicely, and you're okay with it." he shrugs.

There was one time when a teenager, around fourteen or fifteeen, asked Aidan if he could please take a picture of her and yourself. It was an innocent question, she had already acknowledged him as 'that guy from Star-5' and how he'd been in Supercut with you.

But just by the way you saw his expression change, you told the girl a selfie was a better option, you would hold the phone yourself if she was okay with it.

You didn't hear the end of it for the rest of night. Aidan berated your career for the first time of many, saying it was frankly offensive that he’d been treated that way. It didn't matter that you told him the girl was barely a teen and she hadn't been rude. Still, he was more famous than you, he didn't deserve to be made felt like the opposite.

"What are you thinking?" Charles asks, touching your shoulder gently to make you pause your walk.

You really don't want to admit you were thinking about your ex-boyfriend. Not that it matters, Charles knows you think about Aidan often in a mostly negative light, but it feels weird to say it here. So you shrug and sigh. "I wish I thought of nothing, to be honest."

Charles squeezes your shoulder in a half hug. He doesn't push your boundaries, although he wishes he knew what was actually going through your mind.

─────────

It's when you two are having dinner in a restaurant in SoHo that Charles asks the question that has been eating him away since he landed in New York the previous night.

"Do you want to come to Canada with me?"

"Am I not blacklisted from the paddock?" you tease, although Elix is gone. You wonder if Ferrari people blame you a little bit for their sponsor dropping them.

"Absolutely not," Charles frowns, "And you would be my guest, you get to be in the Ferrari Suite like always."

"Thank you, Charlie–"

Charles tries not to seem disappointed as he waits for the 'but' to follow, so he drinks from his wine.

"—but I have some back to back things to do this weekend," you do regret not being able to make it, you loved the few Grand Prix you were able to attend and you would love to see Carlos too. But you have booked a few interviews with people who, more than anything want to consume gossip, but have disguised it as 'letting you tell your truth in more depth'. You cannot back down from what you started.

"That's okay," he assures with a quick wink. "You know you can come to races whenever you want to, though, right?"

"I can?" you raise both eyebrows and Charles rolls his eyes. "The benefits of having a Ferrari driver as a friend. I should have befriended you sooner."

"Very funny," he says as he hides his smile behind his glass of wine again. "Do I get invited to the Red Carpets?"

"You kind of befriended me at the downfall of my career. It's going to take a while for you to be on a Red Carpet."

Charles clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "You're only just getting started, soleil. Don't say that."

You hope he's right, because you have castings lined-up for next week too and you don't want to call him, or Mati, or your mom, crying about how unwanted you feel.

You shrug, drinking from your own wine.

"I'm being serious, y/n," Charles' tone is stern for a moment, yet not aggressive. "You have a lot of wonderful things to do in the future."

"Yeah, thanks." you dislike yourself for ruining the mood yet again, but Charles isn't bothered as he smiles at you once again.

"I mean it,"

He does, and so does Mati, and your mom. You are bound for great things, although they're taking time to find you right now.

"I know. Thank you Charlie, you're very kind. I hope you have a good race this weekend."

Charles huffs. "Yes, me too. Wish me luck?"

"I feel like I jinx you more than help you, Charlie."

"You didn't wish me luck in Spain, look how that went," he fakes a shudder and you snort. You hated every minute spent in Spain after FP3.

"Good luck, you'll do great." You pat the hand that he keeps on top of the table a couple times and before you can take your hand back, he grabs it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Your heart races and you take a deep, sharp breath, like that would help it go back to normal. You have tried not to overanalyze everything about today, from the way Charles looked to the words he said, to the way your body responded to it. You don't want to go down that specific spiral.

"Thanks for stopping by," you take your hand back and keep it busy with your almost empty glass of wine. The alcohol has turned your cheeks warm. "You really want to see New York, huh?"

"I really wanted to see you," Charles replies, nonchalantly.

And you know you'll be spiraling, despite your best efforts.

─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! also thank you so so so much because last chapter got to 1k+ interactions and i was beyond shocked!! it means a lot that you're enjoying delicate!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

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#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #cl16 fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

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yeollie-plz · 4 months

Text

A Very Miller Christmas

A post for @joelscurls for the PedroStories Secret Santa event!!

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader (ft. platonic Sarah Miller)

Synopsis: Joel doesn't love Christmas, but since you moved in you've been determined to change that.

Genre: fluff, so fluffy you could die

Warnings: mentions of Christmas, kissing, pet names,

Gif credits to owners!

December 1st:

As you made your way very unceremoniously through the front door, you dropped a few ornaments out of the open box in your hands. The sound of them crashing to the floor drew the attention of your boyfriend.

He walked into the living room only to be met with the sight of you almost entirely Christmas-ified. Tinsel hung around your neck. A branch of mistletoe was stuck in your hair. Two boxes were in your hands, stuffed with Christmas decorations. The boxes were stacked high covering your face and your view. Which became evident to Joel, who as you almost fell, ran up to catch you and the boxes.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a slight laugh as he grabbed the boxes from your hands and set them down.

"Decorating." You said simply as you brushed away a random strand of hair that had fallen in your face.

"Decorating?" Joel's brow quirked in question. Now reaching for the branch of mistletoe in your hair, holding it up for you to see.

Your eyes focused on it, "For Christmas, obviously! And you just found some Mistletoe." You kissed him quick before getting to work decorating the house.

December 5th:

For days you had been begging Joel to hang up the string lights for you and for days he had denied. As you followed him through the house, he wouldn't even look at you.

"Please! Please! Please!" You said into his back. He was looking for his jacket that he had of course put down in a different place than usual, now losing it.

"Baby, how many times do I have to tell you, we don't need lights." Sighing, as his jacket was not on any of the dining room chairs.

"And how many times do I have to tell you, we do." Placing your hand on the back of one of the chairs and leaning on it, you tried to catch his attention by blocking his view.

He ignored you and continued to move through the house, "You already decorated the inside. Why do we need to do the inside too?"

You sighed, tapping your foot behind him as he moved the couch cushions, still searching. You put your hand on your hip, trying to show your annoyance. He finally turned to meet your eyes, matching your pose to show his own.

Not amused, your face stoned, "Please, for me. I just want the house to look festive. Come on, Sarah will love it!" Now on the verge of whining, he finally gave you a face of defeat.

"Fine, but if I fall off the ladder, you're paying the medical bills." He starts to move towards the door, grabbing your box of string lights as he opens the door.

Glancing at the arm chair, you notice his jacket blending into the fabric. Picking it up quickly, you race after him. You stop Joel before he fully makes his way outside.

You hand him his jacket and lean up to peck his lips. He looks at you with a mixture of soft, yet annoyed eyes. He tips his head towards the box of decorations, before turning to do his duty.

"Thank you!" You call after him, only receiving a brush off, making you giggle.

December 11th:

Christmas music drifted through the house from the radio in the kitchen. As Joel followed it, and the smell of cookies, he found you swaying your hips to the music, while mixing a bowl of cookie dough. Sarah happily stood next to you, singing the lyrics a bit off key.

He watched you from the entryway for a minute, leaning against the doorframe. Smiling at how happy you looked while humming to the festive songs. Pushing off of the doorframe, he made his way quietly behind you. Joel snaked his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. The sudden touch made you jump slightly, but once you smelled the all too familiar scent of your boyfriend, you instantly relaxed.

Joel used your hips to turn you around, causing you to drop the whisk. You lose your balance a bit, so to regain it you string your arms around his neck. He places a chaste kiss to your lips, before swaying his hips in time with the music. Using his hands on yours to urge you to do that same.

You are giggling while Joel parades you through the kitchen. Sarah laughing at the two of you dancing. He glances over at his daughter and as the two of you pass her, sweeps her up into the swaying as well.

The house is now filled with laughter.

December 19th:

Today when Joel gets home, he isn't greeted with any music. He isn't greeted with anything actually. A bit confused, but he realizes why when he sees both you and Sarah sound asleep on the couch.

A mixture of Christmas movies are laid out on the coffee table, as well as, a variety of treats. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is playing on the television, while the two of you dream away.

Shaking his head, neither of you could ever make it through a movie, especially not a marathon. He grabs the blanket from the chair and covers you and Sarah with it. Making sure you are both nice and tucked in.

December 24th:

You had invited Tommy over for a Miller family Christmas Eve. Dinner, hot chocolate, some alcohol for the adults, and maybe an early present.

Sarah was running around the house, yelling Christmas carols, stringing tinsel around behind her like it was a cape. You were putting the final touches on dinner. While Joel and Tommy sat in the living room discussing work. Even on the holidays they were workaholics.

You didn't hear Joel come into the kitchen, until he sat a fresh glass of scotch onto the counter next to you. Smiling gratefully at him, you took a sip.

"Thank you, I needed this." You said.

"I know." He pecks your forehead, before beginning to set the table for you.

"I was gonna have Sarah do that." You mused at him.

"Eh, let her have fun. I am also capable of helping, you know?" It was more of a joke than a real question, so you just shook your head at him and continued what you were doing.

You all sat down to dinner, everyone complimenting you on the meal. You had gone all out and were a bit proud of yourself. Looking over a Joel, you saw him looking down at his plate, gleaming with pride. This brought a smile to your own face.

Later on, after dinner, everyone had retreated to the living room for a movie. You thought it was going to be an easy decision but of course with three stubborn, big-headed Millers it was a debate and a half. But finally you are settled on Frosty the Snowman. Much to Sarah's excitement and the boy's disappointment.

Sarah, of course, fell asleep during the movie, the excitement of the night catching up with her. As Joel went to lift her to carry her to her bed, she stirred awake. In her half-asleep state, she managed to remember that Joel promised that she could open on present tonight.

You handed her one of the medium sized ones and she ripped it open excitedly. The excitement didn't fade when she saw what we inside, a pair of nice and warm fleece pajamas. She stroked them thoughtfully, obviously loving their soft texture.

"For you to wear tonight." You explained, gesturing to the bundle of fabric in her hands.

Her eyes went wide, as she quickly rushed off to try them on. Coming back out a little over a minute later, sporting her new jammies. She strutted into the living room, imitating a high fashion model. Gaining laughs from all of the adults.

"Alright, babygirl, off to bed now." Joel said, pushing her lightly towards the stairs. Following her up to tuck her in. You smiled watching the two loves of your life. Tommy just chuckled at the look on your face, to which you shoved him.

December 25th:

Sarah woke up bright and early, rushing into yours and Joel's room. The sound of the door hitting the wall woke you up, but Joel didn't even react. So you sat back and watched as the girl jumped onto your bed trying to wake up her father. He groaned at her as it finally began to work.

"So early, baby..." He complained at her.

"But its Christmassssssss." She drew out her words to show her dad how important it all was.

"Fine...lets go." Joel gave in, pushing himself up off the bed with another groan.

"Ask mom to make some coffee for you old man!" Sarah yelled to Joel as she was already halfway to the Christmas tree. Your head snapped to Joel, he was already looking at you.

"Did she just?" You questioned.

"She called you mom." He said at the same time.

"She called me mom." Tears grew in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Hey, hey no tears on Christmas." He said with a bit of a laugh, wiping away the one tear that actually fell. You nodded.

He smiled softly at you, before grabbing your hand. Pulling you down the stairs to follow after his daughter.

After Sarah ripped open all of her presents, and began to play with some of them, Joel looked over at you.

"Aren't you gonna open up yours?" Joel gestures to the empty tree skirt.

"Mine?" He nods and points to the tree. Eyebrows furrowing, you decide to amuse his little game and go over to the tree. Looking under it, you don't see anything, until you do.

A small box, sits under the tree, wrapped terribly. You giggle at his poor wrapping job, but not loud enough for him to hear. Grabbing it, you go back over to the couch. He watches you intently.

You slowly unwrap the box. You realize quickly that its a jewelry box, you also realize quickly that there was only a few jewelry items that could fit in this size box...

And as you lift the box open, you guess is proved true when a shiny silver ring sits there. Tears form in your eyes again.

"Joel..." You whisper out in shock.

"Will you marry-y" He words are cut off by you throwing your arms around him and knocking the breath out of him.

"Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes." As you say this, you place about a billion kisses onto his smiling face.

"I love you." He says when you finally stop kissing him.

"I love you too." You say, leaning your forehead on his, your eyes closed.

"And you are both gross." Sarah says from the floor, watching the two of you.

"Hey!" You exclaim, throwing a rolled up ball of wrapping paper across the room at her.

This was a very Miller Christmas, a very perfect Christmas.

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! And a very special Merry Christmas and happy holidays to @joelscurls my amazing giftee! I was so excited to write this for you and I hope you enjoy and have the best holiday season! ❤️ A special thank you to @pedrostories for putting this lovely event together and bringing all of us Pedro writers together for the holidays! Happy holidays to all the admins of pedrostories! ❤️❤️

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us joel #last of us joel #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller christmas #last of us fanfiction #last of us #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

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nickeverdeen · 3 months

Note

If you're still doing Legend of Korra requests, please can I request a Korra x guitarist!reader who has been working on a song ("until i found her" inspired me to ask this) to give to Korra, and performs it for her under the guise of needing feedback, and when positive feedback is given, reader admits that it was written for Korra?

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day!

This is extremely short and I truly am sorry about that

————————————————————

Melody of Love | Korra x guitarist!reader

In the quiet solitude of your room, you, an aspiring musician with a deep admiration for Korra, sat with your guitar in hand. A gentle strum echoed through the space, setting the creative energy in motion. The desire to express your feelings for Korra through music ignited a spark within.

As you tuned the strings, they pondered the essence of Korra – her strength, resilience, and the unspoken connection that seemed to bind them. Each chord played was a reflection of the emotions swirling in your heart. The lyrics began to take shape, inspired by the Avatar's journey and the uncharted territories of your own feelings.

With every word crafted, the you aimed to capture the spirit of Korra – the bending prodigy, the compassionate leader, and the person who had managed to touch your soul in a profound way. Verses and choruses unfolded, creating a melody that mirrored the ebb and flow of emotions.

The room became a sanctuary of creativity, emotions pouring into the song like ink onto a canvas. You marveled at the power of music, how it could transcend spoken words and convey the unspoken truths of the heart. The process wasn't just about creating a song; it was a journey of self-discovery, an exploration of the uncharted territory within yourself.

Hours turned into days as you refined the composition. You strived to make the melody resonate with Korra, hoping that the song would convey the depth of your feelings. The guitar strings vibrated with every emotion, and the lyrics became a testament to a love that dared to be expressed through the universal language of music.

In the quiet moments between verses, you envisioned presenting the song to Korra, wondering how she would react to this heartfelt melody crafted exclusively for her. Little did you know that this musical creation would become a bridge, connecting your hearts in a way that surpassed words alone.

———

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Air Temple as you stood at a distance, captivated by Korra's training routine. The sight of her muscles flexing with each movement, beads of sweat glistening on her skin, sent a flush creeping up your cheeks.

As Korra concluded her training session, you nervously shuffled your feet, unsure whether to approach her. However, before you could make a decision, Korra noticed you and approached with a friendly smile.

"Hey there," she greeted, a playful glint in her eyes. "Enjoying the show?"

You chuckled, your cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Uh, yeah. You're quite the sight to behold."

Korra's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she took it in stride, her fingers fixing a few strands of hair that clung to her forehead. "Training gets messy sometimes."

You nodded, finding it difficult to tear your gaze away from her. "Messy or not, you're amazing out there."

Korra's grin widened, and you felt your heart race. Encouraged by the casual banter, you gathered the courage to share a more personal side.

"I've actually been working on something lately," you admitted, gesturing toward the guitar strapped across your back. "Mind if I play it for you?"

Korra's eyes lit up with curiosity. "I'd love to hear it!"

Finding a quiet spot, you began to play the song you had composed with Korra in mind. The melody resonated through the Air Temple, and you stole glances at Korra as you played.

Once the final note lingered in the air, you looked at Korra with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "So, what do you think? Any feedback?"

Korra's face softened into a smile. "That was beautiful, really. You're incredibly talented."

Buoyed by her positive response, you took a deep breath. "Actually, there's something else I wanted to say. The song... I wrote it for you."

A brief silence stretched between you two, and panic started to creep in. You began apologizing, thinking you might have overstepped, but before your rambling could continue, Korra closed the distance and kissed you mid-sentence.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but as the warmth of the kiss enveloped you, words became unnecessary. When Korra finally pulled back, she grinned, a playful sparkle in her eyes.

"No need to apologize. I've been hoping you'd say something like that for a while," Korra admitted, her thumb brushing against your cheek.

Speechless and blushing furiously, you found yourself caught in the magic of the moment. The Air Temple, a silent witness, seemed to hum with a newfound melody – a melody of shared feelings and the beginning of something special between you and the Avatar.

As you and Korra continued to talk, laughter filling the air, you realized that the song you had played was more than notes on a guitar; it was the soundtrack to the blossoming connection between two hearts

Yours and hers

#request #imagine #the legend of korra #tlok korra #tlok x reader #tlok #avatar: tlok #tlok fanfic #korra x reader #legend of korra #avatar korra #korra #korra x you

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kitkatscabinet · 7 months

Text

Whumptober - 04: Kidnapped

John Price x gn! reader

Warnings: murder, mention of torture. Kind of strayed a little from the prompt I feel

It's pure luck that you notice, headphones catching on your laundry and pulling them from your ears just as the door bursts open. You know John isn't supposed to be home yet, not for a few more weeks. Freezing for a few seconds you strain your ears, already dialling John's number as you make out masculine voices from the foyer.

The confirmation that, yes, people have just broken into your house snaps your body into action. You lock the bathroom door from the inside then close it, running as quickly and quietly as you can to the bedroom.

The call goes to voicemail and you internally swear, dialling him once more. Again you don't get through and you try not to fume at John for working when you're about to be killed. There’s no point calling the police, they won’t arrive in time, you just want to hear your husband's voice one last time.

You work your way through his coworker's numbers before surprisingly, it's Simon who answers. He doesn't even get a second to speak before you're hissing at him.

“There’s Russians in my house!” If your life weren’t in mortal peril you’d probably have laughed at the usually collected man’s brief moment of panic. “At least two” You’re already answering his unasked question, years of being John’s partner leaving you slightly more prepared than the average civilian.

Whilst you're listening to Simon on the other hand of the line you've managed to rifle through the bedside drawer until you pull out a long serrated blade.

A knife meant you had to get close, but it was quiet, and far more readily available than the gun. Closing the drawer quietly, you rush back to the door. However, instead of closing it, you keep it open, hiding behind the wood and waiting for an opportunity.

You white knuckle the handle, trying to stop your body from shaking as the sound of the bathroom break-in attempt filters down the hallway.

You barely register that it’s John in your ear now over the blood roaring in your ears, a mix of adrenaline and terror leaving you shaking. He’s asking questions, barely concealed panic tinging his every word, but you’re far too scared to answer in case you’re heard.

Heavy boots thud against the floor as an irritated voice filters through the hallway, one of the men is coming closer and it takes everything in you not to cry as John assures you that help is on the way and will be there soon.

You both know that’s a lie.

He’s out of the country, and even if his colleagues can contact the police it will likely be far too late. You want to tell him you love him, want to wax lyrical on how he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you. At this moment you have so many regrets, so many unvoiced thoughts that you can’t verbalise because it will give you away.

The door you’re hiding behind creaks slightly as it’s pushed further open and silently you slide sideways to avoid acting as a human doorstop. You see a broad back, and in a stroke of luck, there’s no tactical gear to protect any vital points. Likely in an attempt at anonymity, but it doesn’t matter, you know to go for the throat. He walks towards the closed closet doors, smug triumph in his voice as he thinks he’s found you.

You step towards him as quickly and quietly as possible. As you get within striking distance he turns, but unfortunately for him, you’ve already built up momentum and are witness to the surprise on his face as the serrated blade slices through the skin of his neck like butter.

You know better than to stab, you don’t possess the strength, the downside though, is the torrential spray of blood that gushes from the violently slit throat.

His blood covers you as the man makes guttural choking noises, unable to do anything else with his ruined vocal cords. John’s screaming on the other end of the phone, demanding to know what’s happened but you’ve frozen in shock.

Those few frozen seconds prove to be your downfall, you’ve forgotten there are two assailants, and the other man has busted down the door of the bathroom and found it empty already.

“Drop the knife!” It’s a command, and after looking up at the furious Russian man aiming a gun at you, it’s one you quickly follow. A whimper escapes you, frightened tears finally pouring down your cheeks as you await your death.

John’s still begging you to answer him and with courage you didn't know you possessed you manage to whisper one last ‘I love you’ before your phone is grabbed and crushed beneath the man’s heel.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” The man sneers and you barely have the time to think that he doesn’t look or sound very sorry before the butt of his gun meets your temple and the world goes black.

From the moment Simon had burst into the room interrupting his meeting with Lawell, phone in hand and panic in his widened eyes John knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.

He’s up from his chair so quickly that it falls over, and barking at Simon to update him in on the situation. The phone is snatched from his lieutenant's grip and placed against his ear as he tries to get you to respond.

He hears your shaky breaths and some vaguely angry shouting in the background but you never respond. He hears your fear, hears the telltale gurgles of a dying man but his heart doesn’t stop until he hears those three words.

There’s a resigned finality to them and Price has tears in his eyes as he repeats the words in a desperate chant, unable to do anything more than listen as you scream and the line goes dead.

He must’ve blacked out temporarily after that, because when he came to a few seconds later Simon was holding him up and the man’s phone was shattered into pieces on the other side of the room.

It’s not until hours later that he gets an update. The police had arrived to find a man dead on the carpet of your bedroom, throat violently slit, but no sign of you.

The following week was torture. He barely ate and didn't sleep until his body physically gave out. The boys were worried, and on more than one occasion he’d snapped. If it wasn’t for Simon’s interference he might have even hit Soap simply for trying to get his captain to rest.

It’s another week before they finally get any news, and it comes in the form of a bloodied box containing a USB. Immediately John knows what it is and even as his men beg for him not to watch, even as the horror floods his veins and the bile fills his mouth he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the screen in front of him.

You’re chained to a chair, soaking wet, bloody and shaking. He watches as a man runs a knife down your collarbone and you scream, crying and begging for John.

It’s a warning. To back off, or you’ll die.

The video cuts off with another one of your screams and a mocking accented voice letting John know that this is all his fault.

#x reader #cod mw x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #whumptober

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myjisung · 2 years

Text

kisses with bang chan !

content. stray kids bang chan, headcanons, gn!reader — fluff.

warning. none

a/n. as requested numerous times, chan! might've gotten a little carried away with this one... what can i say, i am a bangchan lover at heart afterall. feel free to request who i should write for next!

YOUR FIRST KISS

it was in his studio. chan had not planned for it to happen that day, he was not one to plan such things out anyway. all that mattered to him at that point was that he liked you a lot, much more than he thought he would. eventhough chan wanted to put his work and career before anything else, he could not help but be constantly distracted by your presence; so much so that he was starting to consider getting into a relationship.

he could not tell whether you liked him or not. his lack of confidence blurred his vision and made him spiral into believing that someone like you would never settle for someone like him: some guy who liked music so much that he sacrificed almost everything to get his tracks where he wanted them to be.

yet, that night, he stopped thinking. if you asked him where that confidence of his came, he would shrug and laugh a little because, really, chan had no idea. one moment he was showing you this new song he had been working on and reading out the lyrics he and jisung had written as you looked at the mixing software on his computer. the next, you were smiling softly as you talked and talked about how the song was much better than the last time you listened to it.

maybe it was the words you chose to say or the way your eyes twinkled as you complimented his improvement, but chan could not help but cut you off to randomly utter "can i kiss you?". taken aback, you stared at him as red crept up your face. chan mirrored your expression, growing nervous and got ready to backtrack that last statement of his before it got weird. fortunately however, you ended up nodding, as if you had been waiting for him to ask. he did not need anything more, chan immediately leaned in after gently cupping your face.

the kiss he gave you that evening was one you would always remember. probably because he could not help but giggle constantly once it dawned on him that he actually managed to kiss you.

HOW OFTEN HE WOULD KISS YOU

as often as he can actually. as soon as there is an opening you can bet he will dive in. he is far from stingey when it comes to kisses. if you ask for one, chan will give you one. if he feels like kissing you, he will kiss you. it is as simple as that. he does not overthink it, chan simply likes to give.

if you wanted an actual estimate, thousands of times a day would be the closest i could get to guessing it right. he loves to say he likes kisses a normal amount but we all know that is far from being the case; no one likes kisses as much as he does. he just wants to kiss and be kissed every single minute of every single day. so, if he can make it happen, he will.

WHAT HIS KISSES ARE LIKE

oh, so lovely. they are the absolute best. they are a mix of everything at the same time. chan gives loving kisses in the morning. he pecks your shoulder when waking up next to you and then kisses your lips sweetly when he meets up with you in the kitchen after his shower. before leaving for work, he would gently tuck stray hairs behind your ear before kissing your cheek and wishing you a great day. when he comes back and is in a good mood, he would get so playful; peppering your face with kisses and planting his mouth right on top of yours at random times just to get a few giggles out of you.

it is impossible to put him in any category. chan's kisses come in all shapes and forms possible; and each and every single one of them is perfect in its own way. he knows what he is doing and you can tell. overall an amazing kisser to be honest.

HIS FAVORITE KISSES ( GIVING )

ONE. head kisses : when he feels protective

TWO. hand kisses : when he's distracted and working

THREE. temple kisses : when he feels extremely soft

HIS FAVORITE KISSES ( RECEIVING )

ONE. forehead kisses : make him feel safe

TWO. cheek kisses : get him all giggly

THREE. lips kisses : he just likes to be kissed tbh

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artytaeh · 1 month

Text

listen. i am slighlty obsessed with mamma mia— which means i adore abba's songs. so just yesterday i decided to listen to the songs from the movie.

and, because i'm in a huge harry potter brain rot, guess what: amanda seyfried and dominic cooper's duets could so easily be you, reader, and the weasley twins singing with you, because they know just how much you love listening to abba.

· · · · · ·

so yes, to the point where you, fred and george know every single line. and on karaoke nights? the twins know by heart when it's their turn to sing.

i feel like fred is the most enthusiastic about it. lay all your love on me gets more tension between you, staring into each other's eyes, feeling every line:

no, fred wasn't a jealous man at all when he met you! but yes, every man fred sees now is a potential threat, trying to take you away from him — usually, he lifts you up on his arms, looking around with a serious look, as if to watch out of his best-friend-slash-love-of-his-life thieves.

george is possessive! which isn't nice. he uses his fingers to pretend that he was holding a cigarette, blowing air like a smoker would, because now he has another obsession, a bigger vice: you!

now all of this isn't true. now everything is you— and this is when both twins make their way to you, crowding, surrounding you, leaving nowhere to run.

all that the cheeky twins have learned as overturn: so they beg of you, george kneeling on the floor, fred pointing at his bleeding heart, making you laugh everytime.

you get to sing the other part of the song freely, with even more enthusiasm as them, knowing every low and high of the song, and the twins can't help but smile everytime you are this happy.

on the chorus, though? the three of you are screaming, yelling your lungs out.

unironically, i feel like at least one of the twins finds out they're in love with you here. fred, probably because he feels the song too strongly, feeling selfish of you, wishing all of your love to be layed on him— george, on the other hand, realizes how insanely in love he is for you. how (healthily. he hopes.) obsessed he is for you, and all of the moments you spend together.

however, one of us gets a playful yet theatrical vibe, exchanging smiles and dramatic expressions, as if you and them really had just argued. as if you're a couple on the verge of breaking up, as if you were rotting on bed, wishing to be on george's arms or listening to fred's schemes— at the burrow, a place that feels like a second home to you, because it's where fred and george are on their most domestic displays.

once the music starts, the three of you get a neck ache, snapping your heads to stare at each other, grabbing any cylindrical object to be your microphone.

you have enough seconds to change your goofy, enthusiastic smiles into sorrowful expressions, frowning as if this was a painful truth to be sang.

you sing. you point at them, accusing them of breaking your heart— everytime, george looks at you, offended that you think he'd do such a thing! fred, on the other hand, nods as if he was accepting his fault.

they sing together the lyrics, fred finishing with ''waiting for a call...'', looking at you a little too lovingly— secretly, fred hexed a box with all of your letters, which he reads during vacations and holidays that you're far from him, dearly missed by him. every morning does fred weasley wake up in hopes that mixed with arthur's work letters, harry's letters to ron and ginny's friends giftcards, there's something written by you to him.

they sing together a few more words, because this time, it's george who finishes the chorus by himself: ''wishing he had never left at all...''; a feeling he remembers all too well, every single time he has to leave your company to go to his own classes, classes that you don't share due to belonging to different houses. that little heartache, of seeing you turn your back and leave, after waving him goodbye— you live in different houses, sometimes too far for him to chase your company in the middle of the night, or to straight up tell you something stupid he just remembered.

deep down, everytime this song is so passionately sang by the three of you, the twins wish to never get to feel exactly as the song proposes. the feeling of things getting so bad, that one of you has to leave.

being the most patient and more of the "good" twin of the duo, george is hopeful that being on no-speaking-terms wouldn't happen, and if it did, only lasts a few hours. george is hoping that you and him are such a good match, a match made in heaven and hell, never fight this hard.

however fred, the "bad", 10% more devilish of the duo, fears that his impulsive words might hurt you so much one day, that he'll be laying on his bed and wishing to be with you instead, knowing he messed up.

at first, the twins frowned at your music taste. sometimes abba's songs are frequent on dorms' parties, fred too focused on dancing and jumping amongst the other students' enthusiasm. george, however, is a little more observant of the others' fun, watching his friends dance and other boys trying to make a move on the girls they fancy— which means, watching is baby brother ron trying to get a dance with hermione.

it gets them a little effort to like abba as much as you do. george is the first to learn the lyrics, making an effort for you and to sing a long on car drives. fred struggles at first, but gets surprised when his voice naturally sings along.

when did he learn the full song? the full album, even? he accuses you of bewitching him.

( truthfully, fred becomes a bit of a bigger fan of abba than george, now that he gets to dramatically and theatrically sing the songs with you. )

· · · · · ·

pretending that you're a little younger and flirting with him on does your mother know?, or you singing it out of spite when the twins mess up, when you just know that they will, sooner than later, listen to molly weasley's wrath for what they did.

all brotherly and stupidly supportive, being the one who remembers to sing chiquitita of all songs, fred starts the famous ''chiquitita tell me what's wrong...'' when you're sad about a low grade or crying— yes, this makes george wheeze his voice out everytime even though he tries so much to take your problems seriously.

waterloo is a song you feel... personally. because everytime you are defeated— fred and george won the war: convincing you to join their schemes, silly pranks, and future plans. the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself: you, fred and george at the crime scene once again. you promise to love fred and george forevermore— fred teases that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to (mf is tall, has long legs and is capable of running FAST after you); george, on the other hand, assures that he knows, fred knows, you know that your fate is to be with them.

going to detention, fred opens his arms to you, and soon george gets what his (slightly) older twin is about to scream: "can't you hear me? SOS!"; when you're gone, though they try, how can they carry on? detention is a little more bearable when you're caught red-handed with them, and so, you, fred and george have a date later at evening, to clean the great hall or other part of hogwarts. "and the love you gave me, nothing else can save me, SOS!" is a lyric you know all too well, because if you decide to be a little more sarcastic, slightly cold to them, george wraps your shoulders with his arm and tilts his head to look at you and sing it to you, meanwhile, fred shows up in front of you with a forearm on his forehead. a true damsel in distress, now that he sees the little sassy monster he and george created.

super trouper is a core memory to you, the twins, and dear ginny weasley, once again crying because of her first unrequited love on harry potter. something only you know, because you and ginny wouldn't want poor harry to suffer too much with fred and george's pranks. this time, each of your hands pull one twin to the side, then you point at ginny, who's a little more calm after crying her eyes out, and sing the first part of the song. fred thinks it's a good idea, honestly, since you always laugh at chiquitita, and for a second george seems to regret this friendship. because, are you serious? but then, when ginny smiles and accepts your invitation to join the spectacle, george decides that super trouper is a favorite of his— specially because he and fred know that somewhere in the crowd, you'll be there. and they'll be there when you arrive. always. forever, if fate allows them.

on valentine's day, george is the one to start this whole abba epidemy you're having. take a chance on me starts shyly with george, because you haven't received any letters or chocolates despite your popularity (which is cough more of fred and george's fault cough after effective threats on any funny little guy who fancies you). fred laughs incredulously, because as bad with seriously sweet words as he is, he doesn't believe that is identical twin is starting this conversation with an abba song. but of fucking course. and if you're wondering, yes, it did work. you took a chance on them.

voulez-vous is sang by you, the twins, and everyone else at the hufflepuff's party, when the team wins against slytherin. it's then that fred, if he wasn't an official fan of abba, admits that you have a good taste— because it's easily one of the funniest and enjoyful moments of the party: if there were students outside the dance floor, with voulez-vous, everyone is standing up and crowding hufflepuff's common room. layers of circles of students move to the left, the layer behind to the right, and so on. the whole time you're singing to fred and george, and when it's time to your students' circle to move again, fred gets on your left so george stands on your right, making sure that the enthusiasm of other students don't push you to the ground, or hurt you unintentionally. even when they're having the most fun, fred makes sure you're in the middle of them— for the first time, being the slightest responsible twin.

and yet, when you're being the kindest soul to help the weasley twins decorating their shop, money money money is the mandatory song to attract good business, good luck, and good clients for them. it'll be a rich man's (men) world indeed, when weasley's wizard wheezes starts getting so famous, that fred and george promptly have a jar of savings— money to be spent with you, on you, for you. to spoil their best-friend-slash-love-of-their-lives.

· · · · · ·

should i make a series?

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goatpaste · 9 months

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Hai, mutuals have my actin up getting obsessive brain over Pillar Fam Au again and their all over my brain like ANTS

So I wanted to redo the art on the pillar fam playlist and doodle some stuff for my fav songs on the playlist

just thinking about them thinking about them thinking about them and running around and biting

every few weeks I just remember this AU is everything to me good lurd

[Commission Prices][Etsy][Buy me a Kofi]

also wanted to talk about some thoughts on the songs of the playlist just whatever, under the cut

Where Evil Grows by The Poppy Family: this one I drew for, but I heavily think of it over Joseph and Wamuu's first meeting where despite the rough first meeting, theres that spark of interest in on another. Despite unexplainable need to get close to one another, especially Joseph to Wham.

Blood in the Wine by AURORA: mostly a song I put on there for Wham, its a Wham heavy song and makes me think generally of pillar fam but also of Wham and his relationship to his pillar men family and kars. His Loyalty and devotion to the man who is his father, but ultimately having these different goals and feelings.

Electric Love by BORNS: Honestly mostly just a fun feel good song I felt had some good vibes to Pillar fam, love a good lightning motif for Joseph.

Kiss her you fool by Kids that Fly: First kiss scene, 1000% Joseph with a million thoughts about how he's trying to get out of dying, or even killing but also quickly realizing he might just be in love with this powerful warrior and that Wham just might like him back, and to make a leap of fate with a kiss.

Talk to Much COIN: Another song that fit the bill for Pillar Fam especially of a Joseph angle for suuuure

High on Humans by Oh Wonder: I think this is pretty straight forward for the wham angle of this relationship, especially when Suzi starts being in the mix and he's realizing he's soft for two humans who he should be seeing as a threat to Kar's mission. but instead his brain if fuzzy and soft around them

The Sex has Made me Stupid by Robots in Disguise: also pretty straight forward, they were going at it like rabbits because i take Wham for a guy who fucks his enemies as an equal partner for him, fighting it like gay sex to him but so is gay sex lol. Also this song is such so extremely british its just a bit of a too fitting not to include

Dirty imbecile by The Happy Fits: Kinda vauge take on Joseph, i get big joseph vibes in this song and fitting to my minds touchings of his character and relationship to family and lack there of

Step With me by MIKA: its the vibes, the specific lyrics just feel so right, the slow set by set calculations of getting close to someone like Wham in their specific situation. Both in trying to work every angle to get everyone out alive, but also dealing with big feelings for a big man who may kill him. One step at a time, just a few steps away from you. I especially take this song overlay to the idea of the height of Pillar Fam when the month is almost up and joseph's one like asking of truce between him and wham, but wham choosing to stay to his word and to kars and leaving Joseph, but stubborn Joseph not giving up quite yet.

Necessary Evil by Unknown Mortal Orchestra: i think this in a way feels a lot like similar lyrical vibes to Where Evil Grows. But bit on the horny side lol, two crazy kids defying the odds, dealing with how they feel, messy messy feelings while they nearly kill each other in a gladiatorial fight on chariots around a roaring fire.

I wont hurt you by the West Coast Pop Art Experience: THIS SONG OUHGH this is one of the big ones on the playlist to me, its soo ouch. Song that 100% in my head links to the end of the Chariot fight. Joseph and Wham have dealt out all their cards, every trick in the book to live or win. All but their final trump card, all or nothing, put it all on the line and die winning. Wham lost of sight, arms and burning a hole into his own chest. Joseph with caesars headband and the lighter fluid... But he can't do it. instead opting to drop his weapons and his guards, i wont hurt you, Yelled over the intense slicing winds as they grow nearer. Joseph's pleading one more time for Wham to stop to not kill Joseph, but more importantly, himself. That Kars wouldnt want this, Suzi wouldnt want this and Joseph wouldnt want this. He would rather lay down and accept defeat and death than be the one to remove Wham from the world. its then, Wham in his biggest moment of vulnerability stops, words reaching him. Falling to his knees and embracing Joseph in a messy bloody puddle in all the heavy silence under the blazing fire. I wont hurt you.

m'Lover by Kishi Bashi: themes of unlikely lovers? well dont mind if i do for my pillar fam playlist. Picking up right after the last one, things are finally looking right, defying the destiny that they were meant to hurt and kill each other in that pit that night instead promising themselves to each other. two loves in the night finding each other in the most unlikely way

Affection Taku Iwasaki: Its a jojo song, and it makes me sad weepy, its soft its perfect for this vibe.

Bizzare Love Triangle by New Order: I think mostly on here for the general title and 'love triangle' idea. Suzi and her two boys, their Bizzare Love Triangle

From Me, the Moon by Lav and Dark Moon by Bonnie Guitar: putting these together as their both meant to be for the same idea, Wham watching his human partners grow old. His family even with his pillar man genetics, growing older. The idea they will one day leave him behind. This reality will obviously never come as they world ends in p6. But its a lingering idea, a soft sad, but approachable topic to think about for Wham. Couldn't not include it in a playlist meant to encapsulate them and their life start to finish. Wham will be sad, but happily live out his humans long lives. As long as they'll have him.

Affection Taku Iwasaki: it was the final track of P2, just like Affection, sweet and good, how could i not make it the final track on this playlist.

#pillar fam #battle tendency #jojo #jjba #wamuu #joseph joestar #suzi q

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softlyspector · 1 year

Text

Midnight Blue

Summary: A year after his mother’s death, Marc travels back to Chicago to face his father. He doesn’t expect it to be easy but he also doesn’t expect it to be so hard. He especially doesn’t expect to find refuge from the hard moments in a little known witch’s shop a few blocks over. And definitely not in one keeping watch over the family’s piano.

This chapter: You and Marc say goodbye.

Tales Untold; Part VIII (end) - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (minor Steven Grant x Reader and Jake Lockley x Reader)

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings (this chapter): angst and fluff, mental health issues, mentions of past death, mentions of past child abuse

A/N: We are finally at the end! Everyone say goodbye to these two! Thank you for reading and thank you for giving this series as much love as you have. Comments and reblogs are so appreciated! If there are any additional warnings that need added, please let me know.

VIII.

Tales Untold, Chicago 6:56 PM

The radio is on in the back of Tales Untold.

The volume is low, but the sound still travels throughout the shop.

Late summer sun paints the hardwood floor with tiny spots of color. Deep mauves and cobalts mix with cherry red from the stained glass you and Steven had steadily replaced the clear glass with in the shop’s front door. It reminds Marc of the first day he came into Tales Untold, the air teeming with the flight of dust motes and golden light.

He can hear you singing along to the old country song on the radio as you putter around at the back desk, organizing the things the last customer had come in with.

The song is a crooning love song, sweet as candy. It’s the kind of song that wraps around his heart and squeezes, that pulls up nostalgic feelings like teeth from the lining of his stomach.

It sounds beautiful, especially when it mixes with your voice. The sound rolls around in your mouth, the adjustment of your normal cadence to fit the tune of the song.

Marc smiles as he listens, drags the paintbrush in his hand around the border of your mural, careful not to disturb the little design. You’ll do most of the detail work later, taking the paint in around the edges of the design.

You will, or Steven.

He and Jake had proved too heavy handed to be trusted with anything other than the broadest strokes.

Your voice drifts closer, your footsteps creaking along the old wooden floors. You aren’t a particularly good singer, but Marc would gladly listen to you butcher lyrics and notes for the rest of his life.

“Steven’s better at painting than you,” you tease when you reach him.

Marc doesn’t turn, rolling his eyes. “I can stop, y’know, and let you do it yourself, sweetheart.”

You lean against the bookshelf next to him, a smile on your face. The sun slants over your eyes, and you have to squint to look at him. Your whole face crinkles up with the effort. You’re wearing that stupid vintage Cubs shirt he gave you, the one with his good memories. You wear it all the time now, like you’re trying to prove a point to him.

“No, I like watching you, Spector.”

He doesn’t so much as breathe when you wrap your arm around his middle and slide smoothly between him and the wall. “You do?” He asks, just to hear you say you like watching him again.

“Mhm,” you tip your chin up. You’re so pressed so close to him, your nose brushes his, and you go a little cross eyed trying to glance down at his lips. “You look so stern when you’re concentrating on something.”

Marc frowns at you and you laugh. “Scratch that, you always look stern, honey.”

He follows the tilt of your head when you move, careful to watch every slow movement you make. “When you’re finished with the border, we’ll be done,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his. “Can you believe it took us a whole summer? To finish all our little projects?”

A spear of anxiety that doesn’t fit with the moment, that is not necessary, beats through him. “Yep,” he agrees lightly. “Now you can tell me to get lost.”

“You are just not funny,” you accuse as you tug free from his arms and pull him back from the wall so you can both look at it.

The wall is a deep blue. Midnight blue, Marc thinks your friend at the hardware store called it, patterned over it are tight constellations of stars. The stars are clustered towards one side of the wall, nearest the hanging crescent moon in the corner, while an orange and red sun sits directly opposite, long threads of burnt orange and yellow reaching out to them.

The border is nearly finished, decorated with phases of the moon in a pretty gold and white.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it? I think it fits the shop better.”

Marc nods. It does fit you better, that was for certain. The blue is calming, softens the interior shop, and is leagues better than the blank wall that had been beneath the wallpaper. The orange of the sun is an ode to your mother, for the orange wallpaper you ripped down.

He squeezes you tighter to his side, paintbrush still loosely held in his other hand. Steven is better at painting, he agrees with you on that, but Marc enjoys it. He especially likes it if you sit with him while he works.

And most times, you did. You sat side by side and worked on the mural slowly, the warmth of you pressing into his side when you leaned into each other.

Your flower boxes had long ago been painted, the flowers Marc salvaged when he broke down the old ones repotted in their new homes. He repointed the brickwork, finally fixed your rusted bell, and made you a new sign.

The neon was a good choice. It's definitely been helping draw new customers into the shop.

“Marc?”

He glances over at you and finds you frowning at him. Before you can say anything he turns to lie the paintbrush down so he can pull you fully into his arms.

“What?” He asks, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

The motion of it is soothing, and you never tell him to stop. It seems to calm you as much as him.

“Summer’s almost over,” you say carefully. “I’ve - I’ve tried to ask Steven about it but…don’t you have to be getting back to London? He doesn’t really seem like he wants to talk about it either” You slide one hand across his shoulder blades, the press of you soft against him. He closes his eyes when you drag your hand up the back of his neck and through his hair.

You muss his curls gently until they loosen around your fingers. A hum vibrates in your mouth and you don’t have to say it for him to know exactly what you’re thinking.

Pretty.

He can almost hear your thoughts.

Let your curls out more, Marc.

Marc nods. “Yeah,” he opens his eyes, “I’ve been thinking about that.”

You swallow and nod back, patiently waiting for him to explain. “I…we gotta go back. To London. At least for a little while. Loose ends to tie up, that kinda thing.”

“Alright,” you murmur. “Well, I guess I already knew that. I guess I’m just wondering what’ll happen with us.” You fidget, a strange nervousness pooling between you.

Marc stiffens, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you shift in his arms again like you’re worried about what his answer might be “Do you want to do long distance or are we going to call this a fun summer fling?”

“A fling?” He blinks at you, tightens his fingers into the fabric of your shirt, like you might disappear right before his eyes. “Do you want this to be a fling?”

He can’t really imagine it’s that, not after everything.

“No,” you smile, “I don’t want that. But the end is upon us, honey. Time marches on either way.”

Something about the way you say it makes him anxious, like you expect it to fall apart.

Marc swallows, “No. I don’t want it to be over. It doesn’t gotta be.”

For just a second, you look surprised. “Okay. We’ll figure it out,” you smile. “Like always.”

You start to pull away but Marc keeps you anchored against him, fingers locked tight into the fabric of your shirt now. His thumbs divot into your hips as he searches your eyes. “There’s nothin’ to figure out. I’m telling you, I want this. I want you. And you’re here.”

“Marc,” you say softly. “I always knew you’d have to leave again. I can’t expect you to pull up your whole life-,”

“Trust me, baby, we aren’t pulling anything up.” Marc cradles you close. “There’s…nothing there anymore.”

You press a worried hand to his face. “You really wanna be in Chicago again? Here of all places?”

For a moment, Marc considers lying to you. He considers telling you it’s all fine, that nothing hurts like that anymore.

He’s been honest with you so far, and things are fine, so he says, “I wanna be where you are. That’s it.” His voice is vulnerable to his own ears. “I don’t care where it is.”

You bite your lip, a troubled look still lodged in your eyes. “What about work-,”

He scoffs, “Baby, we’ve been here for months. There isn’t some job I gotta go back to.”

“You’ll have to explain that to me someday,” you say, cupping his jaw. “What it is you actually do.” Marc leans into your touch. He likes the way your fingers feel on his skin, how soft the pads of your fingers are.

He nods, though he’s not sure how he’ll explain any of that to you. “One day. Just…all you gotta know now is that it’s okay. There’s nothing in London anymore.”

“Does Steven really wanna live in Chicago?” You ask, incredulous. “What about Jake?”

Marc rolls his eyes. “Me and Steven already agree. And Jake thinks he’s a New Yorker, so-”

You snort and then laugh, burying your face against his neck. “Jake is a New Yorker. You should hear him talk about the-,”

“No, I don’t need to hear him talk about the fuckin’ Mets again,” Marc interrupts against your cheek when he turns his face against yours. Your breath fans warm over his skin, and the familiar scent of lavender envelopes him. “And we-,” he emphasizes, squeezing your waist. “-are Cubs fans.”

“Yes, we are,” you agree, pulling back to kiss his cheek and then the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I’ve got all this merch now, and I’ve been to two Cubs games. I can’t say that about the Mets-,”

“It’s only a matter of time before Jake gets you a Mets jersey,” Marc gripes. “And I need ya to promise me you’ll burn it when he does.”

“Asshole,” Jake mutters suddenly from the front window, not looking at you. “Always trying to make me the bad guy.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, “No. I won’t be doing that. Jake’s very sensitive. He would never forgive me for something like that.”

Jake grumbles something low under his breath, clearly embarrassed. “You’re right,” Marc says, just to irritate Jake. “He is sensitive. Very sensitive.”

You cock a brow at him, “He’s listening isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t tease him,” you reprimand.

Jake’s spine straightens with your words, a smug smile pulling over his face. “Protective of me, huh? See, pendejo, I’m more important.”

Marc rolls his eyes again, “He teases me all the time.”

“You need to be teased,” you say softly. “You don’t smile nearly enough.”

Marc thinks you smile enough for the both of them, so he just kisses you.

Somehow you’ve stopped talking about it, about how he’s going to leave, if only for a little while.

He reaches up to cup your face between his palms, strokes his thumbs along the curve of your cheeks, and only pulls back long enough to say, “There’s nothin’ left in London and I wanna be here.”

It goes unspoken between you that he wants to be with you, that they all do.

The radio plays another love song.

Tales Untold, Chicago 4:35 PM

It’s mid September and you have a slight cold.

Your nose is stuffed, and Marc thinks you look cute, rolled up in the duvet and with only your eyes and nose poking out from between the mountains of fabric.

You had wanted him to go stay with his dad, so he didn’t get sick. Instead he’d gone to get you medicine, some little treats. Sprite and crackers to settle your stomach, and ingredients for soup.

He’s going to make you matzo ball soup, because you’d told him how much you loved it the first time he brought his dad’s leftovers to you. You’d said it was the perfect soup, perfect for winter and when you were sick.

You groan at him to go home as he sets out the ingredients.

Instead of doing what you ask or starting on the soup, he toes his shoes off by the door and crosses the room to tug the duvet back.

“Marc,” you croak weakly when he nudges you over and crawls into bed with you. “You’re gonna get sick too. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Nah,” he whispers against the back of your neck, arms circling your waist, “I won’t. I promise.” Your body is hot with fever against his, even though you shiver like you’re cold.

The bed smells like lavender and clean cotton and sweat.

“I told you to go home so you don’t get sick too,” you grumble again into the duvet he tucks carefully back around your shoulders.

“Well, then I did exactly what you asked me to,” he mumbles, rubbing his hands slowly over your shivering body. You’re burning up, but until the fever breaks there’s nothing much he can do to help you. “I’m at home. This is home.” You don’t comment on that, and Marc grins when you huff in annoyance. “Wanted to tell you we got our plane ticket back to London.”

You’re quiet for a long time, and Marc wonders what exactly goes through your head. He can feel you tensing, swallowing back the tears that rise up the back of your throat in an effort to keep quiet and hide it from him.

Marc wishes you would let it out, that you would talk to him about it instead of being supportive without considering your own feelings. He wishes you could talk about it.

But you don’t.

He knows you’re trying to save him from any more guilt, but he also knows your fear, even if you don’t say it. You’re worried he’ll get back to London and remember all the reasons he has to stay away from Chicago, like he might realize you weren’t worth it.

It’s ridiculous, but he doesn’t know how to talk you away from that ledge. He’s not sure how to reassure you that he’ll come back. Even though Chicago is a place of heartache, it’s his hometown, it’s where you are and where so much love and happiness is.

Marc doesn’t say anything, just squeezes you tightly, palms fitted across your belly. “Oh,” you murmur eventually. “That’s good. You have a lot of things you need to sort out.”

“I will come back.” He nuzzles between your shoulder blades. “You know I will. Maybe you can come visit London while we’re there.”

“Really?” You perk up at that. “I’ve never been.”

“If you want,” he presses his cheek to the top of your spine. “You can help with the flat.”

You fold your hand over his, working your fingers between his. “Steven would be angry with me for dismantling his home,” you chuckle lightly.

“You know Steven thinks of here as home now too, right?”

You don’t answer again, your breathing slow and even, carefully controlled. “It is,” Marc says, when you don’t answer. “You can ask him yourself. He’ll tell you. Here is home for us.”

“It’s…but it’s going to be different,” you say lowly. “Of course, you have a place here with me,” you squeeze his hand tightly, reassuringly. “But you’ve been here for a reason. What if everything changes when it becomes permanent? I don’t want you to uproot yourself and then - this is just different, Marc. This is permanent. Maybe it won’t be fun anymore or maybe it…I mean there’s nowhere to go if-,”

Marc drops a kiss to your temple when he leans up above you on one elbow to glance at your face. “I don’t wanna go anywhere. Tell me you know that,” he pleads as you turn onto your back. “Tell me you know what you mean to us.”

Your lips quirk in a small smile, but it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. Your fingers are gentle when you push them into his side. “Of course.”

“You know here is home now.”

“I know here is home now,” you repeat. “For you.”

He leans down to kiss you, even though you laugh and try to push him away. “Where’s home for you?” He asks, mouth brushing yours.

Your hand fits against his chest. “Here.”

A cemetery, Chicago 3:16 PM

The light wavers yellow and warm through branches laden with burnt orange and scarlet leaves, the colors rapidly browning. Marc walks alone between graves, careful not to step anywhere he shouldn’t.

His mind is quiet and though you had offered to come with him, he’d adamantly refused.

You’ve done enough for him over the last few months, and this was something he wants to do by himself. This is something he has to do alone.

He can’t remember the last time he visited his brother’s grave. It’s been years, maybe decades.

He’s never seen his mother’s, not once, though he knows they’re buried quite close together. There’s a plot for his father, and one for Marc too.

Marc, in all his brushes with death, never thought of what would become of his body. Probably because he was so far away from home he’d never considered being buried in the family plot.

The air smells like fall, like fallen leaves and decay. But the day is nice, the sky a clean robin’s egg blue, and the scent of sunshine and the dregs of summer lingers in the air too.

It’s still warm, but the air has lost its heat. Summer has faded so quickly, Marc feels like he’s lost time. He blinked and the days were gone.

But he remembers all of it. Every second with you, in your shop, with his father, in that house that still haunted his dreams. He remembers every second with you, every moment in your apartment and in the shop. He remembers every brushstroke made, every valiantly repointed line in the brick wall, every single drive to the hardware store, every laugh, every dinner cooked together, and every piano note played.

For once, time escaping him doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

He stops in the shade of a tree, leaves spinning down gently in the sun.

It’s an incredibly beautiful day.

Marc is still glad you didn’t come with him, but he does wish he’d gotten to spend today outside with you. You love the sun, and Marc likes to look at you in the sun.

He doesn’t look at his mother’s grave, not yet. He looks only at his little brother, who he’ll never feel like he didn’t fail in some way.

Marc apologizes for not visiting, for taking so long to visit since the last time. Feeling just a little bit stupid, he tells Randall about you. But the cemetery is empty and so he tries not to feel too bad about it. He likes talking about you, in any case. You’re easy to talk about, easy to like.

He says the Kaddish and then crouches to lie two stones at the base of the headstone, one for himself and one from you.

He stays there for a long time, hand braced on the edge of the smooth rock, head bowed. “Sorry,” he says gently, because there’s no one there to hear him, and no one there to tell him not to. “I’m sorry, and I always will be.”

Saying it wasn’t his fault would never make the guilt quite go away.

When he stands, he has to take a moment to swipe the tears away from his face, before he can face his mother.

Even in death she intimidates him.

Like he could still be punished for doing nothing wrong, even now.

A cold chill sweeps down his spine when he finally turns to her grave.

He swallows hard, and thinks of you, how last Saturday you’d gone to the synagogue with his father when Marc hadn’t felt able to. You had come home smiling, with treats picked up from a Jewish bakery you’d gotten and hidden away from him the day before.

Marc thinks of all your small kindnesses, all of the thoughtfulness you applied to everything you did. The way you embraced him and Steven and Jake, and made an effort with his father even though you had no real reason to. You’d had no reason to go with his father, especially without Marc, but still you did.

You listened to all Steven’s long winded stories about Egyptology, and you indulged Jake in his flirting and silent need for acceptance.

There weren’t a lot of people, at least not that Marc could think of, that would do that.

You love him, he thinks he knows that, even if you don’t say it.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just stares down at her headstone and wonders where to start, if he has enough courage to.

A breeze sinks through the cemetery, ruffles the curls at the base of his neck. It reminds him of the way your fingers always tangle there.

“I forgive you,” he says, voice nearly inaudible, almost giving out. He should be stronger than this, louder than this, but it would have to do. “Maybe you don’t deserve it, but I do. I deserve to forgive you and move on. I hope…that you found peace.”

Marc’s hands are in fists, blunt nails cutting into the flesh of his palms.

He closes his eyes and says the Kaddish again before bending to leave a single stone.

Marc turns and walks back through the cemetery.

He doesn’t look back once.

His heart stutters in his chest all the way back to Tales Untold, panic building in the back of his throat. Like his mother would, even now, be able to know he spoke out of turn, would be able to hurt him again.

But you’re waiting for him, lodged firmly on the front step even with the chill seeping into the afternoon air. You tug him into you when you yank the door of your borrowed truck, not even waiting for him to climb out, and the feeling dissipates.

The knot along Marc’s spine loosens, the panic that homes inside his chest eases.

He clutches you tight to his chest and lets out a long breath.

“You did it, hermano.”

“Well done, Marc.”

You pull back and tilt your head. “I’m okay,” he says. “It was fine.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Chicago O’Hare International Airport 2:35 PM

It’s early October, and the first really chilly day has settled over the city.

The skies are slate gray and the clouds hang low in the sky. It’s only slightly oppressive, like the whole cloudbank might come crashing down at any moment.

The terminal is busy, and Marc takes a moment to find a little pocket of peace away from the rush people, the loud noise that is any airport.

“Are you sure you have everything?”

You’re looking at him with big, anxious eyes. “If I don’t,” he says gently. “I’ll be back in a couple months anyways.”

Marc knows you’re trying not to let him see just how upset you are. You haven’t cried in front of him, but he’s heard you try to hide the sniffles from behind the bathroom door more than once. “Yeah,” you rasp. “Of course. I know that. If you left anything I’ll keep it for you until you can come back and-”

“Baby,” he interrupts softly, tucking his passport and boarding pass into his back pocket before tugging you into him. “I’m coming back.”

“Y’don’t know that for sure,” you say suddenly, your breath hitching. “Everything you are now is in London-,”

He shakes his head, pulls back and cradles your jaw between his palms. You’ve given him so much comfort over the past few months, now is the time for him to offer it back to you. “It’s here now, everything I am. It’s with you. I’m coming back. I’m coming home.”

“I just,” you swallow and blink slowly at him. “I just don’t wanna be without you. I don’t want to be alone.”

Marc is sure that the feeling that cracks through his chest is his heart breaking.

“Hey, no-,”

“I just don’t wanna lose you,” you say softly. “I’ve come to rely on you a lot now too. I mean, who else is going to help me unclog the kitchen sink and unpot those stupid flowers for the millionth time? Who’s gonna build me stuff? And what about Steven and Jake? Who am I gonna make stained glass with and who’s going to teach me how to finally drive a manual car-,”

He feels a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “And I wanna…I like having you around. I like all three of you and I like hanging out with your dad. And I like that you live with me and you show me parts of Chicago I never thought to go to and-,”

“Hey,” he interrupts more firmly this time. “We will do all those things. Us.”

“You-,”

“Me,” he emphasizes. “I’ll do all that stuff. Because I’ll be back. We will. Steven and Jake will drag our asses back, if not.” He means to make you grin back at him, but your eyes just go glassy again. “Hey,” he pulls you in. “C’mon, baby. We’ll call you every day. You aren’t losing anything. I promise.”

“Really?” You tug on his shirt. “For real, you promise?”

“I swear.”

“Promise, Marc,” you say into his shoulder when he tucks you into him. The heat of you seeps into him, along with all the things he’ll miss about you. He’s the one leaving, but that doesn’t make it easy on him. Maybe you’d realize everything he wasn’t the second he stepped away. But he has to try, he wants to make things work with you and that starts with going back to London to sort his shit out. “Promises are important.”

“I promise,” he says. “I promise, sweetheart.”

You give him a watery smile at the intense strain in his voice. “I believe you. I just don’t want to have to let you go.”

“Not letting anything go. You’re not letting anything go and neither am I. I’m not going anywhere.” You try to glance away, but he doesn’t let you, just like you never let him give up or look away. “I’ll be back by the new year. No longer than that. Hopefully sooner.”

You swallow thickly and nod. “Honey, you’re gonna miss your flight if you don’t go. Security might be-,”

“Fuck security. There are always other flights. I need to know that you know this is happening. I am coming back.”

“I know, Marc-,”

“You don’t though,” he says, adamant about it and not sure how to explain. “You don’t know what I’ve been through with you. You don’t know how much you’ve…how much you mean to me. I never woulda made it through this summer without you.”

There’s a long pause between you. Your eyes are wide as they search his. Marc doesn’t glance away, determined for you to see before he leaves.

You cover his hands with your own where it lays against your cheek. “Marc,” you lean in to kiss him. “I got you. I love you too.”

He doesn’t manage a response, just tightens his arms around you. “Yeah.”

“You need to go,” you whisper. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Marc tugs you with him, and you follow with a smile until the security area comes into view. “Bye, baby,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing you one last time.

You nod, and smile. “Bye, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

“Right,” he confirms. “Soon. And we’ll call everyday.”

“Of course you will, you promised,” you remind him. “Promised me, Spector.”

You release him gently, and back away a few steps. “I did. We will,” he says, just to keep standing there for a couple more seconds.

You wave and then make a gentle shooing motion. “Get going.”

Marc turns and goes before he can change his mind, before he can anchor himself to you and ignore every responsibility he’s ever had.

He gets in line and valiantly tries not to look back at you, but he can’t quite manage it. When he finally chances a glance back, he expects you to have disappeared like a mirage, like everything that happened and everything he gained had been one long dream. But when he turns you’re still there, watching him.

Marc can tell you’re crying a little, but you smile and wave each time he glances back.

Finally, you disappear from view and the story of you rounds itself out in Marc’s heart.

He will come back, and you will still be there waiting.

He will come home, because that’s who you are.

Once again, thank you so much for reading and for coming on this journey with me. You don't know how much it means that this particular story has gotten so much love from all of you. I wish I were better at explaining, just know that I love and adore all of you. Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart.

I'm going to miss this little world a lot.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction

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