#i have a job i go outside i wake up early i dress nicely and try to express my personality
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exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt 1 | pt3
— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)
— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.
— tags: conversing, getting to know one another
— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification
— word count: 6.2k
— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.
Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!
The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.
Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?
You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.
You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.
People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.
Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.
When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.
You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."
He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."
You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.
Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."
In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."
"Did you eat already?"
You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."
He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.
"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"
Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."
He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.
You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."
You look at him. "Ok..."
The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"
You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.
"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."
He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"
You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."
Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.
You shrug. "It's fine."
He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.
"Do you know anything about her?"
You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."
Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.
He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.
Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.
"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.
You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.
Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.
You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.
"Turn around."
Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.
Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.
You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.
When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.
You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."
You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.
"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.
"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."
"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.
Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."
You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."
"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."
You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.
"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.
Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.
"Just what?" Lexi prods.
"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."
Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.
Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."
Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.
"What do you mean by abusive?"
She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."
Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.
He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.
You put your things away, then look to Nate.
In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.
"You ready?"
You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.
Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.
Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.
You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.
Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.
It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.
But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.
He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.
And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.
He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.
“Do you sleep with this?”
Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”
He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.
In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.
He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.
Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.
And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.
It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.
You need him.
You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.
He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.
He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”
You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”
He nods.
He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.
He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.
He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.
You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.
He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.
He closes the doors in front of him.
What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.
He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.
He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.
Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.
He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.
He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.
And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.
Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.
You walk over, sitting in it.
He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.
“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.
You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.
He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”
Your brows furrow. “Do what?”
“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”
You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”
He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.
You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?
And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.
You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.
He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”
“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.
He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.
“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”
You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”
In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.
If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.
“What if it wasn’t?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”
You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”
You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.
“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”
He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.
“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.
“You won’t.”
You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?
You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”
He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”
“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”
He grows silent.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”
He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”
He doesn’t elaborate further than that.
“So…what’s your favorite color?”
He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”
Somehow it seems fitting for him.
He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”
“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”
He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”
You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”
He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”
“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”
He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”
Your brows furrow. “Who?”
“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”
“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.
He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”
Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.
“How come we were never friends?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”
You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”
“You know what they say: opposites attract.”
You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.
He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”
To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.
“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”
“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”
You let out a small laugh.
“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.
“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.
“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”
Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.
So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.
“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.
A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.
"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”
Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.
And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.
“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.
“Psychotic?”
You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”
He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.
“Have you ever dated before?”
You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”
He looks over at you. “Never?”
You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”
His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.
It surprises him.
“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.
You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”
He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.
No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.
He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?
God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.
But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.
“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”
You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”
He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”
You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.
You clear your throat. “My turn.”
He lays back again.
“Can I ask about your dad?”
He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”
You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”
“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.
Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.
He stands and you fill with guilt.
You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.
“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”
He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.
Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.
Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.
He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”
You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”
He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”
He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.
“Like what?” You ask quietly.
He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”
You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”
“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.
You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.
“Okay.”
He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.
You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”
He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.
“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”
You gently take the dress from him.
He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”
Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.
While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.
He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.
When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.
You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.
You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.
He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”
You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.
You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.
He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.
You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.
He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.
He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?
He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.
You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.
Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.
Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.
He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.
“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”
“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.
He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.
Today will be one step closer to getting that future.
He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.
He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.
Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.
#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs imagine#euphoria x reader
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bought tickets for the dan show livestream thinking it would cure me but it didn’t and now i’m. having a terrible day. still love him and happy for him i think im just wrong as a person.
#vent#i think i’ve seen so much mental health content online that im just numb to all of it#tried watching queer eye and i’m also numb to all of their advice#none of it has worked yet i’m still stuck#i have a job i go outside i wake up early i dress nicely and try to express my personality#i do yoga i try to remember i have nice friends i pet my cats i eat tasty food#and still. nothing.#can i just become an entire robot already
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Strictly Unprofessional - part 9 (alexia putellas x reader)
Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.
Part 9/9
Previous parts here.
———
You agree with Alexia that you’ll take her on a date on her next day off from training, which means you have five days to plan how you’re going to sweep her off her feet.
You decide to use those five days to prove to Alexia that you’re serious about wanting to date her. On the morning after your lunch together, you wake up twenty minutes earlier than usual and stop at a coffee shop that Alexia mentioned in passing once, picking up two coffees on your way to work. You still arrive at the Barcelona training facility early, coffees sitting in a cardboard cup holder on the passenger seat of your car, as you scan the parking lot for Alexia’s vehicle.
She’s not here yet but that doesn’t matter. You’re prepared to wait around and you stay in your car, watching the empty space where Alexia normally parks her car.
You’ve only been waiting for ten minutes when she finally pulls into the parking space and luckily the coffees are still warm, but you would have waited for hours if you’d had to.
“Morning,” you greet Alexia cheerily, as she gets out of her car. “This is for you.”
Alexia raises her eyebrows, mouth curling upwards into a smile as she accepts the coffee and brings to her lips for a taste.
“You know, I’m going to start expecting this every morning,” she teases you, as you walk together towards the training facility.
Though you wince internally at the damage to your bank account if you have to start stopping for nice coffees every morning on the way into work, what you say to Alexia is, “Okay.”
“I’m joking, by the way,” Alexia says, nudging her arm against yours affectionately as she takes another sip of coffee. “But thank you for this. I really do appreciate the gesture.”
———
You bring her coffee again the next morning, but when you show up to the coffee shop on the third day you’re surprised to see Alexia already standing near the counter.
“You don’t have to keep doing this,” she tells you, her hand finding your waist and giving it an affectionate squeeze as you line up together to order your drinks. “An occasional treat is nice, but you don’t owe me anything. Let me get this one.”
Your protests fall short, but you let Alexia buy you a coffee today instead.
———
The morning of your date with Alexia, you’re surprisingly calm. You shoot Alexia a message telling her to wear sensible shoes and that you’ll be outdoors so she’s welcome to bring Nala along too, before getting into your car and driving over to Alexia’s apartment to pick her up.
“Hi,” she says, when you pull up outside and she climbs into the passenger seat.
She grins at you across the console between you and suddenly the nerves surge through your body as her smile weakens your composure.
“You look really nice,” you manage to tell her.
She’s dressed in a pair of shorts with a loose fitting orange shirt hanging open over a white tank top, a pair of sunglasses on the top of her head that pushes her hair out of the way of her face. She looks stunning, and though you tried your hardest to look your best for her, you feel a bit like a potato next to her.
“Thanks, so do you,” Alexia replies. She buckles herself into the passenger seat, then says, “I wasn’t sure if you were serious about Nala but I left her with my sister.”
“I meant it,” you say with a nod, before you add with a teasing smile, “I just thought you might want to bring Nala as a chaperone in case you were worried you’d be unable to resist throwing yourself at me.”
Alexia arches an eyebrow.
“Thirty seconds into our first date and you’re already that confident?”
“No, I’m just incredibly nervous,” you admit. “Fake it ‘til you make it, you know?”
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Alexia reassures you, though her smile once again knocks the air out of your lungs. “Anyway, where are you taking me?”
As you pull away from the side of the road and start your journey, you answer, “That’s a surprise for now.”
———
You talk effortlessly as you drive out of Barcelona and into the hills north of the city, the conversation easing your mind as any nerves from earlier float away. This is just Alexia, after all, the same Alexia you see every day at work. Slapping the ‘date’ label on today shouldn’t make it any different to any other time you’ve spent with her in the last six months.
You eventually pull into a dusty parking lot in the shade of some trees at the start of a hiking trail. As you get out of the car, Alexia must have realised what your plan is, because she teases you, “So, is this a cheap date because I told you that you’re paying?”
You open the back door and take out the two backpacks that have been sitting on the back seat.
“Oh, I’ve spent money on this date,” you counter, holding out one of the bags towards Alexia. “I was going to offer to carry the heavier one, but for that comment I think you can carry it.”
Alexia grins and shakes her head, but accepts the bag, smaller than the one you hoist onto your own shoulders but slightly heavier as it’s the one carrying the drinks.
As you lock up your car, Alexia reaches for your hand with hers and slides her fingers between yours.
“Thank you for planning this,” she says, more earnest than before. “I’m only teasing you.”
“I want to show you one of my favourite places to hike,” you tell Alexia, as you leave the car and walk towards the start of the trail, your joined hands swinging loosely between you. “My parents used to bring me and my sisters here when we were younger. Plus, I know a place with a pretty good view for a picnic.”
———
Over the last few days, you’ve deliberated a lot over exactly where to take Alexia on a first date, feeling that as this day is something you’ve been building towards for over five years, the need to get it just right is incredibly high. Choosing to go on a hike felt like a bit of a risk, but you’re happy to discover it’s one that pays off. The weather is beautiful, a sunny day but not so hot that it’s unbearable, plus you and Alexia are both active people so it’s nice to discover a hobby you can share together. Not to mention that the conversation keeps going easily as you walk, with plenty of opportunity for little touches as your hands brush against each other.
You eventually reach the place you’ve picked out for a picnic, a sunny spot where the trees are sparse enough that you’ve got a nice view out over the valley below, the blue sea sparkling in the distance. Together you set up a picnic with the contents of the two backpacks, the food you spent last night preparing kept cool with ice packs and a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling wine wrapped securely in a picnic blanket in Alexia’s bag.
“This is really nice,” Alexia says, tapping her plastic champagne flute against yours once the food is all spread out in front of you. “Very thoughtful. Thank you for preparing all this.”
“I thought I should probably set the bar at a certain height in case you end up owing me a second date,” you say, and though your words are teasing, they’re also cautious, because you don’t want to assume yet that Alexia will want to date you again after today.
Alexia, however, seems to think differently, and sets your mind at ease by saying, “I think you’d have to commit a pretty spectacular fuck up for me not to want to take you out again.”
“Don’t jinx it,” you warn her. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made a mistake when it comes to you.”
“That’s behind us now,” Alexia says, reaching for an olive, which she pops into her mouth and washes down with a sip of sparkling wine.
There’s something on your mind and, keen to make sure you’re not following the same pattern of miscommunication as before, you decide to voice it.
“There’s been a lot of focus on me being an idiot - which is valid, by the way, I’m not fighting that,” you say to Alexia. “But you’ve had months too. Would you have ever made a move?”
Alexia smiles in amusement, then says, “I think I was trying to make a move that night at my apartment. You know, before you ran away.”
Your cheeks burn at the memory, but you tease Alexia back by saying, “It’s a good job there’s no Ballon D’Or for flirting because there’s no way you’d win it if those were your moves.”
“Because your moves are so much better?”
“Sorry, which one of us organised a really cute picnic date?”
Alexia laughs, then says, “Okay, you’ve got me there. You win.”
You know how competitive Alexia is - there are probably very few things that she would let you win at, so you decide to take this little victory by setting aside your wine glass and leaning into Alexia’s side, resting your head against her shoulder.
“Do you think it would’ve worked if we tried this five years ago?” you dare to ask, looking out at the beautiful view in front of you, the powerful sun overhead and the glimpse of sea in the distance reminding you of the holiday in Ibiza.
“Does it matter?” Alexia answers, and you feel her tiny shrug beneath your head. “We’re here now.”
“Yeah, but five years,” you remind her. “Nearly six now. Think of the time we might have wasted because I didn’t want to give you my number after we slept together.”
“Okay, two things,” Alexia says, taking your hand and linking your fingers together. “First, I don’t think it would’ve worked. I know I’ve changed so much in the last five years and I get the feeling you have too. We weren’t ready for anything back then.”
You nod in agreement. In Ibiza, Alexia was a rebound from a broken relationship. Whether that rebound was just for a single night or turned into a romance that lasted weeks or even months after you returned from Ibiza, Alexia would only ever have been that rebound.
“And second,” Alexia continues, “I think we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. I know this is a lot for a first date, but this doesn’t feel like a normal first date. We’re here right now, halfway up a mountain having a really thoughtful and romantic picnic, because of everything that happened before. And look at it this way, do you think you’d have the job you have - your dream job - if we’d tried to date five years ago and fucked it up?”
“Probably not,” you concede. You almost didn’t apply for the photographer job at Barcelona simply because you’d slept with Alexia once, you definitely wouldn’t have applied if you had any more history than that.
“Everything happens for a reason,” Alexia assures you. “Let’s focus on now, not the past.”
Alexia brings your joined hands to her mouth, letting her lips graze across the back of your knuckle, then shifts slightly until you’re forced to lift your head from her shoulder. She’s looking at you with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes.
“So, is it time for my photography lesson now?” Alexia asks.
“What photography lesson?” you ask dumbly, momentarily distracted by just how pretty she looks with the sun shining off her golden hair:
“Oh, come on,” Alexia rolls her eyes. “You’re telling me you brought me somewhere as amazing as this and you’re not going to show me how to capture the view?”
“I didn’t bring my cameras with me,” you tell her.
“Okay, so you might not know this because I know photography is only a hobby to you,” Alexia teases you, her eyes shining with mischief as she reaches for the phone that lies face down on the picnic blanket beside her knee, “but let me introduce you to a wonderful piece of photography equipment called an iPhone…”
“Oh, fuck off.”
———
Though it’s getting dark when you finally drive Alexia home, you’re still not ready for the day to end.
You can’t really believe that, mostly through your own stupidity, you could have been doing this for five years. Five years that you could have spent with Alexia. It’s only today, actually going on a date with her, flirting and holding her hand and trying to charm her, that you realise exactly what you’ve been missing all these years.
Maybe Alexia is right and it wouldn’t have worked. Maybe you weren’t ready. Maybe you were supposed to spend those five years looking for something else, only to find your way back to Alexia and realise that it was her you were looking for all along.
You park up outside Alexia’s apartment and turn to her in your passenger seat.
“Walk me to my door?” she asks.
Your heart skips in your chest, as you nod eagerly. You’d been trying to figure out the physical logistics of having to lean over the console in the middle of your car for a goodnight kiss, but you hope that walking Alexia to her door will give you the opportunity for a proper and much less awkward goodbye.
Exiting your car, you link your hand with Alexia’s as she leads the way up to her apartment. Her hand in yours makes you giddy, as if it’s the first time again and you haven’t just spent the whole day trying to find any excuse to be affectionate with Alexia.
“Today has been really fun,” Alexia says, when you reach the door to her apartment, and you wonder if she is also trying to prolong the eventual goodbye for as long as possible.
You really want to kiss her. So much that it’s all you can think about, and you can only nod dumbly in place of actually saying anything.
But then you get the signal you’ve been waiting for, as Alexia’s gaze drops momentarily to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you know she’s thinking about it too.
You’re not sure who initiates it, but her hands find your hips at the same time as you push her against the door and you’re gasping into her mouth as her lips move assertively against your own.
You barely remember kissing her back in Ibiza and though you’re sure it must have been good, it certainly can’t have been as electric as this. There’s something about kissing somebody you’ve spent months getting to know versus kissing a stranger on holiday, even if those two people are the same person, that translates into chemistry unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.
You try to commit this moment to memory, a second chance at a first kiss, but it’s hard to focus on much at all when Alexia’s tongue swipes into your mouth. Your hands tighten on Alexia’s waist, sliding beneath the material of her open shirt and finding the exposed skin below the hem of her tank top.
“Do you want to come in?” Alexia murmurs against your lips.
Remembering what Alexia told you about not sleeping together on the first date, you ask, “What about the rules?”
Alexia squeezes your hips, fingertips dangerously close to groping your ass, and says, “Fuck the rules. I want you.”
And even if you were stupid enough to argue with a pretty girl telling you she wants to take you to bed, your brain is too overcome by lust to be able to say anything more than, “Then have me.”
———
As you walk from the main building to the training pitches the morning after your date with Alexia, laden with camera equipment, there’s a spring in your step.
Unfortunately, you’re not the only one to notice this.
“You’re in a good mood,” Mapi says, arching an eyebrow at you as she comes up beside you, her football boots hanging from her fingertips.
“Am I?” you ask, playing dumb.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with the bite marks on Alexia’s shoulder, does it?” Mapi asks.
You feel the blood drain from your face as a memory from last night, of you sinking your teeth into Alexia’s shoulder in a fit of passion, swims to the forefront of your mind.
You start to fidget with your camera bag, suddenly fascinated by the zip as you avoid eye contact with Mapi.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not,” Mapi replies, and you can practically hear the smugness in her voice. “But I’m happy for you. Even if it means I have to look elsewhere to get my fix of drama now.”
You don’t even dignify Mapi’s comment with an eye roll, knowing that any reaction, good or bad, will feed her thirst for a good piece of gossip.
Ingrid jogs up to join you, falling into step on Mapi’s other side, and wastes no time in asking, “So you’re the one responsible for the mess that is Alexia’s neck?”
No amount of self-restraint can stop the instinct that is to turn to Mapi and glare at her, because she’s the only one on this team that you’ve told about Alexia, so the secret getting out has to be down to her loose lips.
“Does everyone know?” you ask Mapi, with a resigned sigh.
You thought you had been so careful last night, deliberately avoiding Alexia’s neck by going for her shoulder instead, but forgetting that Alexia changes in front of twenty-five other women every day.
“I think everyone knows Alexia got laid yesterday but only we know it was with you,” Mapi explains, an amused smile on her face. “But just so you know for next time, if you confide in me, you’re also confiding in Ingrid.”
You hear footsteps approaching as someone else jogs up behind you, and as you turn and see that it’s Alexia running over to join you, your heart does a little flip in your chest.
“Hi,” you say, a little breathless as you see her for the first time since you left her apartment this morning.
Mapi and Ingrid give you a knowing smile and walk ahead, leaving you alone with Alexia, and she wastes no time at all in chastising you for the marks on her shoulder.
“I thought I warned you that you needed to be on your best behaviour last night to get a second date,” Alexia murmurs, and though her words are meant to scold you, the way her fingers find your waist and squeeze give the opposite effect.
“I thought it’d be hidden,” you try to reason. “I forgot you change in front of them all.”
“Well, luckily for you, you redeemed yourself in other ways last night,” Alexia tells you, her eyes twinkling with flirtatious mischief.
“Does that mean I get a second date?” you ask optimistically.
“I’d say you’ve probably earned that much,” Alexia teases you. She gestures to your camera then says, “Make sure you get my good side today, yeah?”
“You only have good sides,” you dare to flirt back.
“Charmer,” Alexia grins at you. She starts to walk away, now one of the only players not yet gathered on the training pitch, but turns around to walk backwards for a bit, as she says, “Maybe I’ll show you my bad side later.”
As Alexia jogs away to join her teammates, you realise one thing - if you’d thought your job was difficult when you first joined and Alexia had no idea who you were, it’s nothing compared to how much of a challenge it’s going to be to stay composed and do your job well now that you’re dating her.
But you wouldn’t change it for the world.
———
five months later
“Can I buy you a drink?”
With the music thumping around you and the beach full of people, the situation is almost identical to when you first met Alexia, now six years ago. But today, when Alexia offers to buy you a drink, her arms snake around your middle from behind and she nuzzles her face into the side of your neck.
You’ve been dating for five months, officially as girlfriends for three and a half, and it seemed only fitting to return to Ibiza as a couple for a vacation during the football off-season.
You let one of your hands come up to cover hers on your stomach and sink back into her embrace.
“Only if you let me take you back to my hotel room later to have my way with you,” you tease her.
Alexia’s lips brush across a sensitive spot on your neck, before she murmurs into your ear in a voice so low that it has every hair on your body standing to attention, “Oh, I was counting on that.”
———
the end
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#strictly unprofessional
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If I lose my mind | Ch. 7
Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really.
Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports?
Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader
Chapter: Previous | Next
Word Count: 2.8k
Also on AO3
You do win a few positions in the French Grand Prix, after hours of driving in circles under the scorching sun. Two to be exact, from a P15 to a P13. It is true that being thirtieth does not grant you any points and of course not a trophy, you will have to wait a bit more to acquire those milestones in your career, but it is not like anybody cares much about that either. The most important thing, as you have come to understand after talking to the team, is that you have yet again managed to beat your teammate. That detail is sometimes even more valuable for your career than a couple points —although the team would really appreciate a couple of them.
It was an easy feat for that week’s race anyway. Mick ran straight into the gravel on lap 23, his car ramming with such force into the barriers that it no longer looks like a Formula One car when it is towed back to the garage. He was pushing the limit, that is for sure, trying his best to surpass another driver named Ocon while also controlling his pace for the long race still ahead... until he wasn’t.
It is scary to witness, the way his car reaches its limits and goes crazy, the steering wheel spinning out of control while Mick can do nothing but pray that the crash won’t be fatal, that he won’t get hurt. It is even scarier to think that you are putting yourself in that position for the third week in a row now, clueless about what is happening or if this is even the real world, but still allowing a group of unknown people to play dress up with you and strap you down into that car again and again.
“Hey, where are you going? To the briefing?” Carlos flags you down in your walk through the main street of the paddock, his voice loud in the almost empty space. It is still too early for the photographers and guests to be roaming around, gift shops and restaurants completely deserted save for the workers preparing for the worst day of the weekend. It is nice to see, honestly.
The scenery has undergone a big change, the huge terraces and open-air spaces of the French paddock long forgotten and replaced with cosier restaurants in preparation for the harsh weather forecast for Hungary’s Grand Prix. Your subconscious is clearly working overtime to fool you into believing this is reality.
Carlos, Charles and another man are seated in one of the few tables set outside the Ferrari motorhome, relaxing with some coffee and snacks. “Yeah? Are you not?” you respond with furrowed eyebrows, your speed faltering since you see them making no effort to rush their meal and get to a driver’s meeting that started ten minutes ago.
Instead, Carlos beckons you with a gesture of his hand, a cheeky grin pulling at his lips when he simply tells you to “Come over for a second”.
A request that you confusedly fulfill with a last look at your watch.
The driver stretches a hand out to you when you near the group, leaning back into his chair as he looks up at your approaching figure. By sheer instinct, you hold your arm towards the driver as well, placing your hand in his open one when you are close enough to do so. Carlos’ smile grows the littlest bit at that, his fingers closing around yours to get you to walk that much closer to his seat.
An interaction that does not pass unnoticed by the rest of the table.
“You don’t have this meeting or...?” you repeat your question, gaze flying to where the building you were running to hides, and then back to the crinkling eyes of the Ferrari driver.
The pair lets the unknown man at the table fill you in “It’s delayed until nine, they sent an email a while ago”, his Spanish accent shining through his words. He must be Carlos’ guest, the absence of any Ferrari merch making him stand out in the middle of the red decoration and the two team drivers. No pass is hanging from his neck though, he might indeed be part of the team. “Didn’t Nick tell you?”
Oh, and he knows Nick too?
“Seriously? No, he didn’t...” you murmur, taking your phone out from your pocket with your free hand and looking through your unread messages, can’t believe you have literally run across the paddock for a meeting that won’t start for another half an hour at least “I was meeting him there.”
Before you can start sulking, Carlos steals your attention with a squeeze of your hand “Well, then you have nothing to do, right?”, standing up from his chair to lend it to you before you can get an answer out. The Spanish driver uses his hold on your hand to direct you down onto the seat —much like he had done just a week ago, you are glad to at least know his name this time—, looking down at you with an accomplished expression when he succeeds “I’m going to go get you something. You didn’t have breakfast, did you?”
Carlos only lets go of your hand and disappears inside the motorhome when you confirm his suspicions, you have not eaten anything yet, and honestly were not planning to. The nerves won’t let you keep anything down in days like these, your diet consisting of some water and what little fruit you can munch on to not faint in the middle of the road, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that.
The situation is another déjà vu from some time ago, when a certain Ferrari driver approached you in your first ever visit to the Paddock with a delicious surprise and a similar question. This time though, he can do nothing but sit back and watch while his teammate fills the small table with treats for you. The other man at the table shaking his head at the Spanish’s antics, a smile hidden under his hand, you would not even be able to eat all of this if you had spent days in a hunger strike.
Carlos pulls up an extra chair from a nearby table and encourages you to dive in, taking his probably cold coffee from in front of you to finish what was left in it.
You put your phone down then, finally concluding with a sigh “I’ve got nothing from Nick... and now he isn’t answering”, and picking up one of the most manageable foods of your improvised breakfast in the meantime: a tiny bowl of fruit salad.
Charles lets out a chuckle at that, swirling the contents of his paper cup “Like you would have seen it anyway, I’m still waiting for an answer about the plane tickets, just saying...”
“Mate, I sent her a good luck text back in France, and did you get a response to it?” Carlos joins in on his friend's complaints, making a dramatic pause and answering his own question on the same beat “Yeah, me neither”
Maybe you would have felt called out or exposed that these two were discussing your private conversations —or lack of thereof— out here in the open and in front of a stranger, but that’d be if you had any idea of what the hell they were talking about. What messages? Did you give them your number at some point and don’t remember it? Well, Nick and the media coordinator have been the only ones blowing up your phone since you received the device anyway.
“I don’ know what you’re talking about” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders as they continue airing instances where you have ignored their texts and you follow on with your task, the fruit tastes really good actually.
After a while, Carlos tap his foot on your crossed legs to gain back your attention, when he finally notices you have grown quiet during their tirade, and offers you a smile
“C’mon don’t get mad, we’re just joking” Charles consoles you as well —unnecessarily so, since the only emotion you are experiencing is confusion— “It’s because we’re flying private a bit later, and I don’t want you getting home before I do”
Home? What is he talking about? And why does he have to arrive first? Seriously, you are missing too much information
“You should fly with us, I’m sure the rest won’t mind” Carlos chimes in, stealing a piece of the chocolate crêpe in your plate. A plate that you push to his side of the table right after, cutting him a couple more pieces so he can help you finish it up.
Through a mouthful of the sweet dessert, you question the obvious “The rest?”. Completely disregarding all the other important questions crowding your mind, a skill you have developed after weeks of not understanding anything the people around you talk about.
As your answer, you have the three men on the table spewing names on the go, confirming the presence of at least six other people on the plane. The unknown Spanish man seems to also be included in the passengers’ list.
You don’t mind flying with them, honestly. You have somehow grown accustomed to taking a plane every other week, which means this won’t be much of a change. This way you’ll have at least someone to talk to on the journey to whichever country is next on the schedule, Nick always falls asleep a second after taking off.
The “private” part is the most confusing one, you and Nick have been taking normal flights to every Grand Prix. Guess your subconscious has decided to step up its game. You’ll follow the script anyway; at the end of the day, you are just trying to find the end of this abnormally long dream.
You agree to their proposal with a shrug of your shoulders, stuffing your face with the last bit of a second crêpe that you cannot believe you’ve finished. It feels nice to tone down that sinking feeling you have in your stomach on Sundays.
Charles could not be happier with your decision, something he lets you know as soon as you get on the way to the drivers briefing. Carlos and the other man have taken the lead, walking in front of the two of you and chatting about an interview they will be recording later in the day. And they do it in Spanish, which feels so refreshing to hear after weeks of being surrounded by people talking every other language.
While you are trying to discretely listen in on their conversation, Charles lightly nudges you with his shoulder in an attempt to get you out of your thoughts. He easily succeeds, has you looking up at him over the lid of your cup of hot chocolate —yes, you are still trying to finish Carlos’ impromptu breakfast— in the next beat.
“I’m really looking forward for the break” his voice is low, the corners of his lips tilted up into a beautiful smile that he can’t seem to be able to get rid of. His green eyes are shinning with pure joy, focused only on you and the way you slowly match his grin.
“Are you?” you do not know exactly what he means or why is he looking at you like that but feel compelled go along with it.
The Ferrari driver peels his eyes from you to look at the path in front of him, his cheeks still full with that big smile as he crosses his arms over his chest and gives you another playful push “It’s going to be great, I promise”
The briefing is exhausting, as always. The drivers have had a lot of issues during the Free Practices and Qualifying, which means it takes you half an hour more to break free from the meeting. The Ferrari teammates remain quiet by your side, they managed to lock themselves into the second and third place of the starting grid, so its preferable to keep a low profile and listen. Lewis is one of the most vocal ones, in his seventh place right behind Alonso, and this other Sebastian Vettel guy too —another surname that rings so many alarms in your head—, but his criticism of the traffic during his fast lap is much more justified. He got knocked down to P18.
You are happy with your P13, the same position you ended up in on the French GP and two positions in front of Mick, so you have simply been trying not to fall asleep in the middle of it all.
All the drivers are walking out of the room, chatting about their schedules and the final result of their complaints, when a certain McLaren driver comes up to awaken you from your slumber. Daniel suddenly drops his arm over your shoulders while you are sleepily trailing behind Nick, bringing you close to his body while he balances the two of you from one side to the other, a chuckle slipping past his lips at your startled expression.
“Gonna let me invite you out for lunch?” Daniel offers, making you match his pace as Nick leads you both down the corridor.
“Huh? Why?” comes as your instant response, understandably so when you have not exchanged more than a couple of words after he had that fight with Nick on the Austrian Grand Prix. His words about having to talk to you later are still bouncing off your ears.
Daniel has not approached you for that important conversation ever since, has not mentioned that horrible day when you woke up in the garage with him not once, and now he wants to go have lunch with you? It doesn’t seem right.
“What do you mean why?” the man frowns, having not expected any kind of push back from your part. Daniel decides to come to a stop before exiting the building, letting go of you so you can better talk face to face “Just because? I mean, it’s been so long since we last went out... Do you not want to? That’s okay too”
Daniel’s voice makes something shift inside of you, a strange weight setting over your chest at hearing his dejected tone. It is a wave of unfamiliar thoughts and feelings that swarm your mind, inexplicable ones, that are quickly growing into a awful headache.
It is not something you expected either, the way someone that seems so happy and over the top on his interviews, would deflate just because you are cautious about spending time with him. But you didn't imagine feeling sick to your stomach from watching him like that.
“No, I-” you start speaking, more out of sheer need to wipe that sad frown from his face than anything else, still not sure of what is making you feel so distressed “Yeah, of course I want to, it’s just that I literally ate half the Ferrari buffet, and I really can’t have anything before the race because I get sick and... you know?” you explain, almost stumbling over your words and probably speaking in the thickest accent he has ever heard with how fast you try to go over your excuses
Daniel expression faintly lifts at your nervous reaction and he shakes his head “Don’t worry about it, we can go any other time! I was-… it’s just that things have been a bit strange since Austria, so I wanted to make sure everything’s alright. You can talk to me whenever you need, you know that, right?”
And although you nod almost immediately in confirmation, trying to look confident and willing to do so, this is another conversation that will make the rounds on your mind for nights on end. For now, it is the first thing on your head from the second you step inside the car, to the moment you leave the paddock that same afternoon.
Although there are even more waiting to happen.
Nick has decided it is finally time to inform you about the start of the holidays —most probably that break Charles had mentioned—, no race no nothing for a month. No seeing Daniel for that meal you promised him either, or even a bye-bye to him or any of the drivers. And Nick not only has the audacity to dump all that new information on you after accompanying you to your hotel room, but he also leaves you completely alone after reminding you of your next schedule in England, which is actually 15 days away. Fifteen days where he won't be with you.
What does he mean goodbye? What are you supposed to do now?
Next chapter
___
Author's note: Hi! It's been way too long since I last posted, hasn't it? Seriously, uni is killing me. Hope you all liked the chapter!! I've been rereading all your comments a million times to get some motivation, so thanks for the help hahahha. I'm already missing F1.
Thank you so much for reading!!
Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap
#f1 x reader#f1 fic#carlos sainz x reader#charles leclerc x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#formula one x reader#formula one x you#f1 x you#f1 imagine
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Unlucky Clover
... Yeah I wasn't getting to sleep until I posted this. It's been a rough two days, so enjoy the combination of my two Normal brain cells, size scenarios and vampires.
Word Count: 2.1k
CWs: pretty heavy fearplay, and it’s a sizey story with a vampire, obviously mouthplay/vore energy
=====
The snow began to fall, and Clover quickly ran towards the nearby human house. Luckily, she had plenty of provisions, but she needed to escape the cold quickly or she’d freeze in this weather. As she entered the house through a hole in the siding, she was pleased to discover that it appeared to be heated, and even the space between the walls was warmed thanks to the insulation. As she sat down and curled up for warmth, waiting for her body to recover, she came to a decision that this house would be the perfect new base until the spring.
-
It was early in the evening when Nix noticed that they weren’t alone in their house. It was easy for them to smell the scent of fresh blood, but this was no pack of mice… this blood was human. Following the scent lead to a random wall, against the outside of the house. Perhaps somebody was laying against the siding? thought Nix, but it was far too cold for them to bother checking. Besides, they could wait a few more days before their next meal.
-
It took three days for Nix to finally spot the little intruder. They hardly believed their eyes as they saw her running behind their furniture. At first, they thought it was some kind of hallucination, but the scent confirmed that it was definitely real. It seemed like they had a borrower setting up shop in their house.
-
It had been two weeks, but Nix had finally spotted the little nuisance again. For the last two weeks, small objects had been disappearing around their house, which they could only conclude was due to their little “housemate”. When they saw her, the little intruder was scurrying towards a hole in the wall, holding a few hair clips in her arms as she ran.
“You know, you’re not very good at sneaking,” said Nix, a playful tone in their voice. They saw the borrower’s spine tingle, before she ran even faster into the hole in the wall.
-
It took Clover a few days to work up the nerve to leave again after that incident. This human seemed to be… more nocturnal than most humans, waking up at sunset and going to sleep before the sunrise. Clover had heard of a “night shift” job, and figured this human must have one.
There were a few other oddities as well, including the human’s distinct lack of food in their pantry, but that wasn’t enough to deter Clover. After all, she was an outdoor borrower, she was able to go out and forage for enough food to last her.
It was almost sunrise, and Clover knew the human was probably on their way to sleep. She just needed some fabric, and she knew the human had dropped a sock behind the dryer a few days ago. All she had to do was get to the laundry room and grab it and she’d have the material for a perfect winter coat.
Making sure that the human was out of the room, she began her trek, moving along the walls of the dark house. She got most of the way through the hallway, in an area with nowhere to hide, before the worst possible thing happened.
There was a moment as Clover stared fearfully at the human, taking in their appearance. This human was pale, that was the first thing she noticed. Their eyes were a bright red, almost seeming to glow, but surely that was just a trick of the light. They wore casual pajamas, just a baggy shirt and short pants, a far cry from the nice suits or dresses the human would normally wear before going out. After what felt like both seconds and years, the human spoke again, the second time they had spoken to the borrower.
“You.”
Clover was thrown off-guard as the human seemed to move at a superhuman speed, wrapping both of their giant hands around the borrower. Cold, was the first thought Clover had. Perhaps the human had been outside recently? No, that wasn’t right. Nothing was right here. Clover stared at the human fearfully as they began to speak.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? If it isn’t the little thief who’s been running around my house.”
As they spoke, Clover stared, wide-eyed, as she finally noticed the gigantic canine teeth of their captor. It was all starting to click… this wasn’t the house of a human at all…
“What’s wrong, little thief? Cat got your tongue? Or are you incapable of speaking?”
Clover blinked back to attention. Speaking to humans was expressly forbidden… but Clover was never one for rules.
“I… can speak…” hesitantly murmured the borrower, almost too quiet for a human to hear. However, at this point she knew she was talking to no ordinary human.
“Ah!” exclaimed Nix, a clear teasing tone in their voice, “It’s intelligent after all. Well, as intelligent as somebody can be when they break into the home of a vampire.”
Vampire. Clover had known it to be true, but to hear it out loud made her skin crawl. She had heard legends of vampires, humans given a thirst for blood in exchange for immortality. It was said that vampires needed to kill dozens of humans a year to quench their thirst… and humans had a lot more blood than borrowers did.
Nix quickly interrupted the borrower's thoughts as they continued to speak. “Please, I know I’m quite attractive, but surely you know it’s rude to stare,” teased Nix, as they moved the borrower to a single hand, holding the borrower ever closer to their mouth, grinning wide with their fangs out.
“I… I… I…” was all Clover could stutter, as she stared in fear as the gigantic fangs, each one half the size of the small borrower.
“Oh? It seems like the little thief found her voice again. What were you saying?” said Nix, as they moved the borrower even closer.
“I… d-didn’t know…” spoke Clover, who was starting to tremble from fear. From this close, she could smell the faint metallic scent coming from the vampire’s mouth.
“You didn’t know? Didn’t know what, little thief?”
“I didn’t know… you were… a v-v-v…” Clover stammered fearfully.
“Oh! A vampire! Is that what you’re trying to say? It’s so hard to understand you with that stutter of yours,” spoke Nix, playfully poking Clover’s nose (or rather, her whole face) with the index finger of their free hand.
Clover could only nod, her voice caught in her throat. As Nix began to laugh, Clover recoiled back, pressing her body against the far side of the vampire’s tight grip.
“I… I d-didn’t know…” repeated Clover, as if in shock. “A-are you… g-going to kill me?"
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what you knew or didn’t, because now you’re here, in the hands of a vampire,” said Nix, a devious smile still plastered on their face.
“Y-you didn’t an-” Clover went to speak again, but was swiftly interrupted by the vampire as they continued mocking the borrower.
“I’ll be honest with you… you smell absolutely delicious, you little thief,” continued Nix, their tone playful yet predatory. “You know, it’s been a week or so since I’ve fed… and while you certainly aren’t a meal, you’d surely be a good little snack…” said Nix, as Clover trembled in fear, staring at the fangs which may soon rip her apart.
This is it, thought Clover. I’m going to die.
“Maybe if I had enough of you… tell me, little one, you wouldn't have any friends nearby, would you?” asked the vampire. They knew the answer, but wanted to hear this intruder admit it. As Clover fearfully shook her head, Nix continued, “Ah, a shame then. I guess you really are all alone, huh? Just you and me, here in this house… far from anyone who could hear you…”
Finally, Clover regained her composure just enough to speak just one simple statement, voice soft and weak as tears welled in her eyes. “I… d-don’t want to die…”
At this, Nix stared at Clover, continuing to grin that sharp grin as their glowing red eyes looked at their captive. They adjusted their grip on the borrower, holding her between their index finger and thumb, which was still enough to keep her completely unable to escape.
“Don’t worry, my dear, it will only hurt for a moment” cooed the vampire, as if soothing a child about to get a needle. They slowly, deliberately raised the now-sobbing borrower to their mouth, bringing her right up to their fang, close enough that the borrower could reach out and touch it. As Clover cowered, she heard the vampire vocalize, a sound which shook their entire mouth, including the borrower now inside it.
“Hmmmm…”
And then, before she knew it, Clover was brought out of the vampire’s mouth, and dangled in front of their eyes by her leg. She would shout in pain, if she had any fight left in her. Instead, she could only stare at the giant red eye in front of her, waiting to see what was happening.
“You know, I was hoping for a little more fight out of you. No yelling, screaming, not even kicking? Just going to lie back and accept your fate, huh?”, said the vampire, in an almost casual tone, a far cry from their tone only seconds ago.
Clover could only continue to wordlessly stare at the vampire’s eye, unsure what they wanted her to say.
“You know, I’ve seen a lot of different reactions to my little games. Begging, pleading, fighting. But you? One weak little ‘I d-don’t want to die’”, Nix said, imitating the borrower’s voice with extreme precision, “and then you just cower. Is that just how you little things are? Ready to accept death at the slightest threat?”
“N-n-no…” was all Clover could say, forcing the word out of her mouth.
“N-n-no” mimicked the vampire, again perfectly mirroring the little borrower’s voice before rolling their eyes and speaking again in their own voice, “Seriously, you have to work on that stutter, my dear, it makes you sound even more pathetic than you already are.”
Dangling by her leg, tears stinging her eyes, and face-to-face with a monster that was now mocking her, the little borrower became almost completely unresponsive. Nix shook their little captive around, before continuing. “You know, if you’re going to be this boring, it makes me wonder if you’re even worth the effort to kill. I was expecting a little more of a thrill than this, weren’t you?”
Clover didn’t respond, until Nix shook her again, their voice growing more firm, “I asked you a question. Weren’t you expecting a little more of a thrill?”
“Y-yes… I mean, n-no…” said Clover, reignited with fear after hearing the change in the vampire’s tone.
“Well, that answer tells me nothing. You know what? You’re officially no fun. Do you know what that means?” asked Nix, that familiar devious grin on their face. Clover desperately tried to hide her face from the vampire, only to be shocked when she found herself being lowered to the ground. After being released, roughly landing on her shoulder blades before flipping around, Clover could only stare up at the vampire, wondering what her fate would be, before Nix spoke again.
“It means that I want you out of my sight. Now.” spoke Nix, though there was still a hint of playfulness in their voice. “Well? Are you waiting for me to pick you back up, or are you going to go scurry away somewhere?”
Clover was... confused. She had just accepted her death at the hands, or rather mouth, of a vampire, and now she was being set free? Despite her better judgment, she fearfully asked a question, taking a moment to compose herself so as not to stutter.
“You’re… not going to kill me?”
Nix leaned down and grinned before replying, “Hm? Did you want me to?”
“N-no, no, I just…”
Nix waved their hand dismissively before replying, “You have until I wake up to get the hell out of my house. After that, you’re fair game. Now scram, and think twice before stealing people’s things again, you pest!”
Clover wasted no time scrambling to her feet and starting to back away fearfully. “Y-yes sir, uh, ma’am, uh…”
“The more you stutter on, the more I’m regretting letting you go,” Nix said, as they turned around and began walking towards their bedroom. “And you don’t want me to regret this.”
Clover understood the message loud and clear, as she ran to her little hidey-hole and quickly packed only the essentials for her expedition to find a new place to live. The outdoors would prove challenging this time of year, but surely it was better than staying with a vampire.
-
Nix chuckled as they entered their bedroom. By now, the little pest was probably down the block. To think, she thought they would eat her. While Nix was a vampire, they’d never drain somebody dry, even a little thief like that. What kind of mindless beast did she take them for? Regardless, hopefully they had given her a good scare, and a lesson on being more sneaky when borrowing. After all, not everybody would be as kind as they were…
#once again: yes i am normal about fearplay why do you ask#in my mind there was an extra scene that got cut for being a bit too much for g/t tumblr but i'm still happy with the end result.#any/all pronouns for Nix btw. there wasn't really room for Nix to go 'im genderfluid' but yeah. their gender is whatever it needs to be.#g/t#giant/tiny#macro/micro#oc tag: nix#g/t whump#tiny whump#horror whump#g/t writing#g/t fearplay#vampire#my writing
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FRUITCAKE
— a new year’s addition to southpaw 🎆
——
The sparkler in Sawyer's hand burns out with a lackluster fizzle, just like the end of another year. Staring at the Orlando skyline, everyone, including the twinkling stars above, is out celebrating tonight. Free spirits roam the streets across the centerpiece lake with liquor-infused veins and festive accessories decorating their faces. Straight ahead, each apartment complex window is lit with strobe lights in various colors and a mixture of music booming in each square.
From where Sawyer stands on an unfamiliar balcony, she is just a spectator on the sidelines. She isn't that much of a social butterfly. Parties of any kind are where her fragile wings curl inward, shy and shielding her from a potentially awkward state of affairs. Dressing up is the only reason she agreed to attend the New Year's Eve celebration at some high school acquaintance's studio apartment. Harry, too, she supposes. He's her date tonight. However, mingling comes much easier to him, so he's probably inside having more fun than she is.
His wrist has just about healed, thanks to the time he's been dedicating to physical therapy. Sawyer has been by his side every day, taking care of him and loving the new way they can be around each other since that stormy night outside 7/11 four months ago. It's been challenging keeping up with his bustling life as a professional baseball player and trying to balance her job with how often he travels, but it all proves to be worth it when she feels giddiness course through her veins whenever she's near him.
Harry is the sole reason why Sawyer looks forward to waking up in the morning. The rays of light that shimmer through her bedroom curtains are nothing compared to when she sees the smile on his face, topped with two dimples that make a home for the sun. A sleepy smile when he picks her up and drives her to work bright and early, always with two McDonald's hash browns and a large orange juice to share in his cup holder. A childlike smile when he holds her hand while strolling through the city, swinging their arms as he points at different houses he would like to live in. Her favorite is a radiant smile when she visits him at practice, and he spots her sitting in the scout seats. He always jogs over to her in his dirt-stained uniform and leans past the barrier to kiss her hello, leaving her with a lingering taste of Bazooka bubblegum. She really likes it when he kisses her.
To put it in celestially simple terms, she's over the moon in love with her sunray.
As the party inside rages on, Sawyer sighs between her chattering teeth. Orlando gets nippy at night, and all she wants to do is fall asleep under a nice, warm blanket. Or against Harry's chest. It's hard as a rock, but she doesn't mind since his hands and lips make up for it.
"Southpaw's not out here with you? Bummer."
The hauntingly familiar voice makes Sawyer jolt out of her lovesick trance, a sudden feeling of unease twisting her stomach into a knot. It belongs to her ex-boyfriend, the one who decided to cheat on her behind her back. She had seen him walk in with his buddies and managed to ignore him... until now.
"Leave me alone, Jordan," she calls out monotonously without turning around to see his smug face.
"You got all dolled up, and your boyfriend isn't even paying attention to you," he says mockingly, his voice and footsteps getting closer.
"Go away."
"Are you two a thing now?" he presses like an interrogator.
Ugh! The audacity to ask such a thing! Sawyer turns to face him and brazenly replies, "That's totally none of your business."
Jordan removes his tattered trucker hat, ruffles his hair, and then puts it back on. "I think it is my business, considering you basically left me for him. You moved on fast."
She laughs to herself. "You're so delusional. Take the hint."
"Whatever," he says dismissively. His dilated eyes grossly run up and down her body. "You dress sluttier now."
Sawyer feels like she just got punched in the gut. It's one thing to hear him insinuate that she changed herself now that she's dating Harry, but it's another thing entirely to be degraded by someone she used to have idle respect for. An unsettling fusion of frustration and embarrassment seeps into the open wounds of her wings. Nevertheless, she puts on a brave face.
"Don't make me get Harry," she says with the most threatening tone she can muster up, "otherwise you'll be leaving here with a black eye."
"All right, all right." Jordan backs away, holding both hands high in surrender like a wimp. "Just don't get your dainty little heart broken."
"Screw you."
He doesn't reply and just gives her one last taunting look before sliding the squeaky patio door open to head back inside. Sawyer crosses her arms defensively and swallows down the burning lump in her throat. She's miserably cold, so she begins to cry. Not a sob, but a puny noise that gets stuck on the way out of her mouth and causes tears to fall past her bottom lashes. She knows wholeheartedly that she shouldn't let Jordan get under her skin. The flippant remarks he spewed are irrelevant and don't deserve to make her sensitive side come out of hiding. His words still hurt, though. Her confidence when she arrived has been completely demolished because of a stupid boy she once knew.
After ten minutes, the patio door opens again, and Sawyer hastily wipes away her tears with the back of her hand. Maybe she should just go back inside and find something to distract her; maybe join in on a lousy game of beer pong in the kitchen or find the television so she can watch Boyz II Men perform on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve.
Looking up, she sees Harry standing in all his exuberant glory, wearing a cozy brown sweater and his trusty corduroy cap. He's also holding a plate with fruitcake on it. She doesn't have the energy nor interest to ask where he got it and why he has it.
"There's my girlfriend," he says happily, one hand casually perched on the doorframe. "You and me, let's go. They have Heart queued up for karaoke; we're doing "Alone.""
Sawyer wraps her arms around her shivering body. "I don't wanna sing right now," she says, trying to mask the glumness in her voice.
"Why not?" he asks as he walks toward her. "It's our song. Or we could get crazy and do "Barracuda." Or I could ask for "Suddenly, Seymour," if that's more your speed."
"No thanks."
"C'mon," Harry begs, setting the plate on a nearby table and embracing her in his strong arms. He tilts his cap up to smack a few warm kisses on her cheek, then murmurs, "I need you for the harmonies."
"You can do all the parts." He's a decent singer, surprisingly. "I believe in you."
He huffs and starts playing with her fingers, twisting her rings and rubbing his thumb over her glittery nail polish. "Please?"
In her pretty dress and tiara, Sawyer tilts her head and looks at him with big brown eyes that never fail to weaken him. She knows what she's doing—she's been doing it to him for years.
Harry immediately shields his face and says, "Don't give me those eyes."
"Give you what eyes?" she asks innocently.
"Sawyer Alejandra," he says as a warning.
She stomps her foot and cranes her neck back. "Do not use my middle name."
Smirking, he cradles the back of her head to tilt it forward again. "You stomping your foot only makes me want to kiss you. Stop being stubborn and tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing. I just want to go home."
"It's not even midnight yet. Did something happen?"
"No..."
"It's endearing how bad of a liar you are." His inquisitive gaze travels around her face, stopping at the slight wetness visible under her eyes. "Hey," he says softly. "Have you been crying? Why are we crying, baby?"
Sawyer sniffles and stares at the ground. "Is my outfit too much?"
The crème satin dress with a pleated bust outlined in gold flows elegantly down her body just the way she likes it. The tiara on her head arches with glimmering silver beads, an accessory she was so excited to wear. In the full-length mirror at her house, it seemed like the perfect outfit. Now, she's second-guessing it all because of Jordan's imprudent comment.
"Why? You look like an angel," Harry says while drying her leftover sadness with the sleeve of his sweater. "I almost didn't let us walk out the door, remember? We were kissing until we got dizzy."
She quirks her lips to the side and chews on the inside of her cheek. After a moment of insecure contemplation, she quietly asks, "Am I too much?"
He smooths out her eyebrows, his own becoming furrowed. The warmth and gentle caress of his calloused fingertips give her a sense of safety. "What brainless birdie is pecking nonsense into my girlfriend's head?"
"Jordan," she says with a wince. "Um, he came out here and tried to talk to me."
Sawyer braces for impact since his name has always been a touchy subject around Harry. She still remembers the time she told him the news about Jordan cheating. It was almost scary the way he was so willing to throw a screwball at him with a broken wrist. He might have been joking, but she fears he would have done something marginally worse if she hadn't persuaded him to leave it be. Karma probably unleashed her wrath anyway.
"What did he say to you," Harry says, jerking his chin up. It's not a question; it's a demand.
There's no way he's going to let her wriggle her way out of this one, so she truthfully relays, "He told me I dressed sluttier now."
Another brace for impact. Sawyer racks her mind for ways to restrain him if he moves to go find him. Judging by the size of her arms compared to his, she highly doubts she'd succeed.
"Which way did he go?" he asks in a calmer tone. His hand moves to her hip and flexes, almost as comfort for her and a way to suppress anger for himself.
"Please don't cause a scene," she says hurriedly. "The year doesn't need to end in a fist fight. Or another wrist injury."
Harry doesn't listen and glances behind his shoulder. "Do you want me to get him, or do you want to?" he asks through a tightened jaw.
"I think doing neither is the smartest choice."
Looking back at her in bewilderment, he says, "That dumbass made you cry, Sawyer."
"I cry all the time!"
"Yeah, over puppies," he stresses with flailing hand gestures, "and The Golden Girls. This is something serious that clearly made you upset!"
Sawyer scoffs. "Excuse me, The Golden Girls is very serious."
"That's wonderful, babe, but you need to listen to me." He points at himself. "I'm pissed, so what I'm gonna do is go get Jordan and have a civil conversation with him, 'kay?"
"Can I try my very hardest to convince you otherwise?"
Harry starts backing away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "If you use those eyes on me again, we're going straight home, and you'll be in big trouble."
"I would actually love to go home right now."
He pokes his Shirley Temple-stained tongue out on his way to the door. Just as he's about to turn around, he stops and begins walking forward. He reaches behind his neck to remove his knitted sweater, then gently tosses it to her. "I thought I told you to bring a coat, Sawyer," he says before retreating inside.
The graphic tee she gets a glimpse of fits him well — a little too well — and the thin silver necklace he wears briefly catches in the light, the 'S' pendant he's had for years. He always teases her and says he got it because his last name is Styles. Sawyer smiles at the thought and absentmindedly toys with the 'H' pendant around her neck. She then puts on his sweater and lets his leftover warmth engulf her. It smells like his house, his cologne, his sheets--just him. It consumes her in an overwhelmingly beautiful way.
Harry is gone for no longer than a minute when he comes out again, this time with Jordan trailing behind him like a dog with its tail between its legs. He guides her to a chair and pulls her down on his lap, taking his cap off and sticking it in his pocket like always. Some curls fall over his forehead, and it makes her heart squeeze.
With one tattooed arm winding around her waist and the other holding his ankle propped on his thigh, Harry starts the conversation with a casual, "Long time no see, Jordan."
"Styles." His eyes narrow and shift over. "Sawyer."
"I heard you two already had a chat out here."
He uncomfortably readjusts his footing. "Yeah, we bumped into each other."
"Oh, did you?" Harry asks sarcastically. "You know, you're digging yourself a deeper hole by lying."
"I'm not lying," Jordan replies with too much confidence.
Harry laughs in amusement. "That's funny." Sitting up a bit, he tightens his hold on Sawyer. "I suggest you tell the truth and tell me exactly what you said to her."
"Dude, it's not that big of a deal."
"It is when my girlfriend is involved."
Jordan scoffs and looks around incredulously. "Well, maybe if you were out here with her instead of ignoring—"
"You fuckin' cheated on her, mate, don't tell me—"
"Stop it!" Sawyer blurts, stressfully swiping a hand over her forehead. "Both of you, just stop."
Harry takes a deep breath and cracks his neck. "I want you to apologize," he continues more calmly, "and if you're not willing to do that, then I'd be more than happy to have a little chat with you myself."
Jordan's hesitant body language speaks for itself. He knows not to mess with him. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Sorry for what?" Harry asks.
"For saying—"
"Speak to her, not me."
Jordan grinds his teeth, making awkward eye contact with Sawyer. "I'm sorry I said that you dressed sluttier now. You... look great. You look happy."
"Thanks," Sawyer mutters while picking at her chipped nail polish.
"See?" Harry says, flipping his palms up. "That's all we needed."
"Can I go now?"
"Sure thing, bud. One last thing: I never want to see your face again or hear that you've been talking to my girlfriend, got it?"
"Jeez, chill out. Happy fucking New Year."
With that, he removes himself from the interaction with a drunken peace sign. The thick tension in the air disperses, and Sawyer releases the breath she'd been holding while curling into Harry's chest.
"Boys are so exhausting."
Harry hums, lightly scratching her back. "You're not wrong."
"Not you, though." She kisses his jaw and then scans the balcony. "Hey, is there a reason why you brought an entire fruitcake out here?"
"Oh, it's— I, uh," he stammers, his shoulders slumping. "I forget."
Sawyer cradles his cheeks and giggles fondly. "You make me laugh, sunray."
His skin grows warmly rubescent under her touch. "I burn brighter when I'm around you. How could I not when I get to hear that laugh?"
She plummets deeper in love, a straight drop into daylong devotion. "My sunray."
"Forever." Harry goes off into his own world for a bit. After studying his surroundings, his face suddenly lights up like he mentally stumbled upon some profound epiphany. "Wait, listen to this. You asked me if you're too much, yeah?" He nods to where the dessert he brought out sits. "You're like that fruitcake. On the outside, people who don't know you assume things about your character, like how people judge fruitcake by its appearance. They say it doesn't look tempting before they even try it. But on the inside" — he gently pokes where her heart is — "there are all these delightful little fruits that make up who you are. They take people by surprise."
Sawyer hides her face in his neck. "That was a really stupid analogy."
"You were so about to smile," Harry says, giving her a playful noogie. "I can tell."
She slaps his hand away. "Ow! I was not."
"Were too."
A sudden boom interrupts their harmless bickering as fireworks begin shooting off in the sky, making Harry instinctively pull Sawyer closer due to the startling noise. They both turn their attention past the balcony railing and admire the colorful, celebratory explosions. They burst and crepitate amongst the stars, grandly signifying the start of a new year. She was so enamored by Harry that she didn't even hear the partygoers chanting the countdown inside.
"It's 1992," Harry says in her ear. Over the thunderous noise, his voice sounds like a deep rumble, but it's still comprehensible to her since she's tuned into him constantly.
Sawyer turns her head to find him already staring at her. She smiles. "Happy New Year."
"Our first year as a couple," he says as he fixes her crooked tiara.
Shyly averting her gaze, she whispers, "Yeah, it is." It's probably impossible to hear.
"Can I kiss you?"
"You don't have to ask, Harry."
"I know." The fireworks look mesmerizing in the reflection of his pupils. "It's just that you get so nervous. I want to make sure you're comfortable since our dynamic has changed."
Sawyer passes a hand over his stomach and hooks her pointer finger in one of his belt loops. "I'm always comfortable around you. Besides, nothing has changed too much, has it?"
"No, I suppose not." He smirks and glances at her lips. “Except we kiss now, which is super cool."
She scrunches her nose. "You're silly."
"In all seriousness," he says with a squeeze to her hip, "take however long you need to warm up to this whole thing. I can be patient for you."
"I'll get there."
"I know. I know you will. We're dating now, but that doesn't stop you from still being my best friend."
Sawyer rests her forehead against his. "I love you," she mouths over the sounds of revelry in the sky.
"In what way?" Harry mouths back.
Beaming, she speaks up loud and clear. "In a way that makes me want to kiss you all the time."
His eyes close for a second before he replies, "You can't say things like that. Shit, you're making my heart go crazy right now."
She places her palm on his thumping heartbeat. "Then kiss me, summerboy."
"Mm. Once I start, I won't be able to stop."
"That's fine by me."
Harry nudges his nose with hers before diving in, capturing her lips with a slight clashing of teeth. Deep and slow, he lets each one linger while guiding her face with one hand. He's a face-grabber when he kisses, and it makes her entire body shudder. She can taste the maraschino cherries he always eats first before sipping his virgin cocktail. Sour and a little bit sweet, something she can never get enough of.
He eventually pulls away with a soft pop. Over the past few months, he's gotten quite acquainted with Sawyer's mouth by kissing her like he's making up for every time he wanted to but couldn't. "I love you so much." Kiss. "And I'm obsessed with you." Kiss. "And I could look at you forever."
Sawyer gets her own kisses in, three smacks in a row that make him hum blissfully during each one. "You'd get bored of my face," she replies breathlessly.
"I would absolutely not." He twirls a strand of her golden hair and stares at her attentively. "Your eyes are such a dark brown, but they still light up when you smile or laugh. I fuckin' love it when they do that. You're my brown-eyed honey angel."
"Do not start complimenting me."
"God, and when I first met you on the beach" — Harry looks off into the distance and shakes his head slowly — "I thought you were so pretty. Like, it blew my mind how someone could be that pretty."
Sawyer presses her fingers against his swollen lips. "Literally shut up, Harry."
"Then I heard your voice, sweet and soft like a songbird." He's giggling through his words now, but they still come out with complete sincerity. "My heart made room for yours right then and there. I was a goner."
She blushes profusely. "Stop it, or I'll push you off this balcony."
"Then you almost gave me a concussion, but I feel like that was fate. You made me dizzy then, and you make me dizzy now."
"Enough!"
"I'm going to love you for a lifetime, Sawyer," Harry confesses candidly. “I hope you know that. You could push me off this balcony, and I'd still follow you to the end of the earth."
"That's oddly romantic, but let's love each other through 1992 first," she tells him, patting his dimpled cheek. "Okay?"
"Whatever you want, fruitcake."
She laughs and shoves his firm chest. "Your nicknames for me suck!"
He steals another kiss, smiling into it. "See what I mean? That laugh lights me up. And hey, fruitcake is a better nickname than shortstop, right?"
"I guess," Sawyer mutters, "but I… I really like it when you call me baby." The last portion is whispered quickly and sheepishly, yet the gleam in her boyfriend's eyes tells her he heard it all.
"Yeah, baby?" Harry murmurs with a satisfied groan as he readjusts her in his lap. “You gotta stop saying things like that. It's got me going weak in the knees." Sawyer bites her lip, causing him to lull his head to the side and clutch where his heart is. “God, everything you do makes me want to kiss you for hours."
So they do. Not for hours, but long enough for the fireworks to fade out and the party inside to die down with remnants of confetti and glitter on the ground. Under the stars, they kiss until they become dizzy with love and secret exchanges of words they have yearned to say to each other for so long. Just the two of them on a random balcony, falling deeper and deeper in love with each other until it's time to go home.
They shine too brightly to be dimmed.
——
#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles au#harry styles x oc#harry styles#adore-laur#southpaw#fruitcake
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All i want for christmas is you
(Happy holidays ya filthy animals/j Here's my lil pay back christmas gift for Vic...Hope you all like our OCs)
(Zip is @goodlucksnez aka Vic and Shu is mine ^^)
Shugo hated Christmas, he never liked that holiday and hardly ever celebrated it until now. You see his boyfriend, Zip was the biggest dork and loved Christmas, and Shugo could tell the other was excited. He didn’t know what his lover had planned but he knew it was something, so he decided to play along—helping with putting up the Christmas tree and decorations in their little house. He even agreed to watch 1 Christmas movie a week, 2 were if they were bored. He listened as Zip went on and on about how excited he was, and how he couldn’t wait to show Shugo his surprise.
Shugo had to admit, it was nice to see his boyfriend this happy about a holiday, wondering what his lover bought him as his present. He was willing to put in a little effort to give the hero a gift. He made sure to keep the gift hidden until he knew his boyfriend wouldn’t try and open it early. Now all he had to do was wait till Christmas.
Well, when Christmas Eve came Shugo was a little less than pleased to wake up feeling under the weather. Thankfully it didn’t seem to be that bad, just a slight achy feeling and some sniffling, nothing he couldn’t keep under wraps. However as the day went on he could tell he was getting worse, it was getting harder to hide how sniffly he was, and then the sneezing started. Luckily he was pretty good at holding back or stifling when it came down to it. Sure it left him with a major headache but it was worth it since he didn’t wanna disappoint Zip who was ecstatic to go out.
Zip was rushing his boyfriend to get dressed so they could go out to see the surprise. Shu did as asked while inquiring about it.
“Babe, where are we going?” He asked while putting on his boots, all Zip said was.
“You’ll see!” Once they were ready, Zip took Shugo by the hand and led him out of the house. They were heading for the city by the looks of the directions Zip was taking them. The daylight continued to dwindle the more they walked. The chilly air rushed through Shu’s body but he did not comment. It sure was pretty outside with the snowfall and the soft distant lights. First Zip brought them into a convenience store and bought some hot chocolate which Shugo was extremely grateful for. The warmth between his hands and the sips he took did a good job of warming him up a little. After getting their hot chocolate, and a s’more-type mochi. Zip pulled Shu along to a bench, cleared the snow, and sat down.
Shu was still confused as to why Zip brought them here and finally asked.
“Zip, what are we here for?” Zip smiled wrapped one arm around the villain’s shoulder and finally told him.
“Well I know you’ve never actually celebrated Christmas, so I wanted it to be special. The city has an annual Christmas party with cute little events, music, a parade, and not to mention an awesome light show.” Shu paused a little when the other mentioned ‘light show’, oh boy this wasn’t going to end well. Zip must’ve forgotten Shu was photic sensitive but, Shu wasn’t going to ruin his evening. Shugo wasn’t the most romantic type but he still appreciated these sorts of things. Besides how bad could it really be?
….it was bad….very bad.
Shu wasn’t dressed too heavily, he had on a sweater and long pants but besides that, he was freezing! The breeze chilled him to the bone making his nose very runny, and he didn’t have any tissues with him. So he resorted to using his sleeve which seemed to only agitate his nose more than the cold. It didn’t take long for his nose to already be a soft red color. They’d only been out for an hour maybe an hour n a half but, to Shu, it felt like forever. Sure the parade was nice, he was basically getting free candy canes, but his hot chocolate was the only thing keeping him from turning into a popsicle!
Then came the light show, and when the announcements came on for that Shu knew he was done for! The large tree in the middle of the plaza slowly lit up layer by layer to the music that played along with the smaller trees surrounding it. He could already feel his nose buzzing from just the start! The brighter the lights the more overwhelming the sensation became. He tried holding them back, sniffling back his runny nose to keep everything contained was getting difficult the longer he went. With how cold the air was it was only creator a bigger tickle.
When he thought Zip wasn’t paying attention he grabbed at his nose squashing down a small fit of sneezes into silence. Shakily exhaling afterwards he leans into Zip a little pretending to watch the light show. Though it wasn’t like he could avoid the lights for very long, they were everywhere! The next fit gave him barely any time to prepare, he accidentally let one slip out fully before stifling the others.
“Et-chiew! Et-knk! Kgnnk! Heh’knngk!” Zip turned over and pulled his boyfriend close to his chest.
“Bless you, kitten” He replied a little concerned since Shu didn’t sneeze all that often. Even if he didn’t ask, Shu reassured the white-haired man that he was alright. Or well try was a better way of thinking about it since a big flash of light brought on another fit! Zip started rubbing his shoulder and back gently asking if he was okay. Shu nodded not wanting to worry him.
“Baby it's not nothing, what’s got you sneezing so much?” Shu huffed well at least he didn’t have to admit to being sick at the very least. Still, he felt bad about this and was shy about admitting it.
“Th-the lights” At first it was almost too quiet to hear until he repeated himself. Zip paused and looked over at the light display. Of course, how could he forget about his boyfriend’s light sensitivity? One of the only things that made Shugo sneeze was the lights. With a sigh, Zip stood up and offered his boyfriend his hand.
“Come on, I don’t want you to sneeze your head off. We can see them when I find you a pair of sunglasses.” Zip didn’t sound disappointed, just concerned. Shu hesitantly stood up, and let the other walk them back home away from the light display. Shu couldn’t help but feel awful both emotionally and physically, he didn’t want to ruin Zip’s night that he was so happy for!
The bad part was even as they got away from the lights, Shut still kept sneezing. It wasn’t continuous but it was noticeable. Now Zip was worried, he wanted to get them home fast, having a feeling that Shu shouldn’t be out right now. He was relieved to see the streets weren’t too crowded just yet. He kept an arm around his lover, listening to the poor guy sniffle snort, and stifle the entire way home.
When they made it back he told Shu to go lie down on the couch while he turned up the heat and grabbed some blankets. Shugo did as told and waited for the other to come back. When he did Zip draped the blankets over him and put the tissue box in Shu’s lap before sitting behind him and placing Shugo in his lap. Zip let Shu put on a movie while they cuddled on the couch though every few minutes Shu would go into a stifled sneezing fit. This last one ended with a rough-sounding cough.
“Kitten, you sure you’re feeling alright?” Shu nodded through thick sniffles, though he didn’t sound all that convincing when he spoke.
“I’mb fide Zip, I don’t wanna ruin your christbmast adymore thad I hah haaah! Have ugh.” Zip frowned when the other mentioned ‘ruining his Christmas’. Leaning over his shoulder and wrapping his arms around Shu’s torso lovingly. He kisses his temple and protests softly.
“Baby, you didn’t ruin anything, I promise. I know we had to leave early but that's on me for being forgetful about you being photic sensitive when planning my surprise. Though I’m guessing it's more than the light sensitivity that’s got you sounding so awful.” Shugo shook his head, not wanting to admit defeat he just said he was cold and tired. Then Zip reached over and pressed his palm to Shu’s forehead. Then moving it back to cuddle Shu closer to his chest.
“You feel warm, kitten.” Shu tried to refuse this but when his nose started twitching it wasn’t like he could say much between his hitching breaths. Zip noticed this and gently encouraged the other.
“Come on baby, let them out, you’ll feel better” The sneeze seemed to be teasing him, putting him right on the edge of sneezing but not being enough for him to let it out. Taking the cuff of his sleeve, Zip raised it to Shu’s nose and softly rubbed his septum with it.
“I’ve got ya kitten, just let it out.” And he did, finally, it seemed like the god-awful tickle hit its climax from the soft fabric rubbing against his nose. Snapping forwards he ended up sneezing into the other’s sleeve.
“Et-chiiew! Et-chiew! Et-chiew! Heh! Heh’chiew!” “bless you! Goodness kitten, you done?” At first, it seemed like he was, but then another gasp came and he buried his nose into Zip’s hand as another sneeze escaped. Shu sighed and finally admitted it, knowing there was no use in hiding, besides he knew Zip would pester him about it.
“I don’t feel good,” Shu said while slumping into Zip’s body, Zip gave a smile and kiss on the top of Shu’s head.
“I know, kitten.” Shu nuzzles into Zip’s chest while pulling the blanket around himself to get warm. Grabbing a tissue to try and blow his nose with, only making his nose all red and angry. Zip couldn’t help but laugh a little and make a light-hearted joke.
“I think you might compete with Rudolf from how red your nose is, kitten” Shu glared a little at him but that was interrupted by another god-awful tickle in his nose. Turning his glare into a sneezy expression. Shu tried rubbing his palm roughly against his nose to try and make it go away but it just kept coming back. Zip pushes down his hand and lightly caresses Shu’s septum.
“Oh, kitten you need to be gentle with it” “I-ihh it's s-so iih hih! Itchy ah aaah ad tihhckly” “I know baby, just let me help, okay?” “o-okay heh hehhh s-so cl-close!” By now Shu’s nose was twitching like crazy, nostrils flaring widely, little desperate noises only adding to how badly Shu needed to sneeze. Finally, Zip kissed him on the nose and that seemed to do it. Pressing his face into Zip's chest a harsh fit erupted from him.
“Et’chiiew! Et’chiew! Et’mph! Et’mph! Et’chiew!” Even after 5 wet sneezes, Shu’s poor nose still demanded more. Shu rubbed his nose against the heroe’s chest to try and alleviate the tingling in his sinuses but to no avail. So Zip encouraged his lover to get through them. Going back to the previous methods of gingerly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the irritated appendage. Tears building in his eyes with each gasp, Shu held onto Zip’s shirt tightly the closer he got.
“EEEH! Et’chiew! Et’chiew! Ed’sshiiew! Ed’shiiiew!” These were a lot more drawn out than the last. When Shu’s nose calmed down he slumped into his lover’s frame and snatched up a hand full of tissue to blow his stuffy nose. Zip rubbed his back through the fit comfortingly and pushed the mess of ash-blue hair from Shugo’s face.
“Ugh bmerry christmbas, Zip. Sorry, you got stuck taking c-care of bmeh heh! Et’chiew! Bme” Zip huffed and entangled his body with Shu not caring if the other was sick.
“Baby, don’t apologize, I don’t mind taking care of you, holiday or not. I love spending time with you, especially since you’re all cuddly and adorable when you’re sick” Shu raised a brow at this.
“How am’b I adorable, I’m all sdeezy, and a bmess” “Well you’re my adorable sneezy mess, and I love it.” “ugh fide, well I guess it wod’t hurt to have you open your present dnow” “Huh, really?” “yeah, I wanna see how you like it. It's the present wrapped in blue snowmen” Slowly getting up, Zip went over to the well-decorated Christmas tree and picked up the present. At first, he shook it, eliciting a small chuckle from Shu who told him to just open it. When he did his eyes lit up with excitement, darting from Shu then back down to the present. He continued to unwrap it with the biggest smile on his face. Before Shu could process he had been tackled in a hug by the bigger man. His embrace was full of happiness and ‘thank yous’.
“You like it?” “Mhm, I fucking love it Shu! How’d you get this?” “Well, I pulled some strings”
The present was a letterman jacket from Zip’s school basketball team he was on. He got someone to embroider Zip’s full name and some bat wings on the back as well as the patches that came along with it. Zip was overjoyed to see this and immediately put it on, happily shimmying around in it.
“I love it so fucking much, Shu!” Then Zip remembered his present, grabbed it from under the tree, and put it in Shu’s lap.
“Open it, I wanna see your face when you open it!” Shu giggled a little and opened the box. Inside was a headset with cat ears and a mic. At first, Shu just looked at him but he then started laughing.
“Honestly I like these” “now you’ll really be my kitten~” Zip joked Shu rolled his eyes playfully and saw a button
“Hm, what’s this do?” “Oh, they light up!” Curiously Shu presses the button and of course, as promised the headset lit up, ears and ear pieces lighting up in an LED Christmas theme. Zip mentioned he could the color from the dial on the side of the headset. Shu didn’t bother changing the color and just looked them over.
“I guess Christmas isn’t sooo bad” “Yup call all I wanted was you, kitten~” Shu rolled his eyes again and then grabbed Zip. Pulling him back onto the couch for a kiss.
“Yeah yeah yeah, merry Christmas dork~”
#non kink blogs don't interact#groundzero fics#ground zero's & friend's OC#merry christmas#happy holidays#holiday fic
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No Need To Make A Wish
Or; Father Paul spoils you on your birthday. Requested by anonymous. Takes place sometime after More Than Sinful. I tried to write this in a way in which it would work whether your birthday is in July or December or any other month. I truly think the weather on Crockett Island can get this shitty any time of the year ;) Hope you enjoy!
No Need To Make A Wish - 3.2K
tw: suggestive themes (implied)
The weather was ghastly. Wind and rain most of the time these days. You normally had no problem staying inside and minding your own business, having many hobbies and chores, not to mention your work, but this was getting ridiculous. It’s been a week since you had a proper stroll without fighting the wind for your umbrella. You hoped the weather would get better again soon, as you were getting a little antsy and you knew so was everyone else. Sunday mass was half emptier than usual and not even Annie and Leeza showed up to the daily one.
Luckily, that meant one thing - Father Paul spent much more time with you. And despite your want to go outside and take a nice long walk, you supposed that this was much better. Not to mention the priest did a marvellous job at distracting you.
You spent this night at your home. Which was a little out of the ordinary ever since this ‘rain season’ began. Normally, you’d be at the rectory, Paul would get up and ready himself for mass without waking you, and then, after waiting in the church for twenty minutes in case somebody actually showed up, he’d go back home, take off his clothes and hide right back under the covers with you. However, yesterday he said that he’d like to spend some time in your house too, to maybe ‘watch your favourite film, you do have a better telly, after all,’ and because ‘I really need a change of surroundings, getting bit of a cabin fever in here’ . He listed a few more reasons, none of which you believed much, but didn’t want to question him. After all, the idea of cuddling with him watching your favourite film sounded way too good to pass.
And so, another morning, your bed this time. He got up and it actually woke you. Pretending to still be asleep, you watched with one eye sneakily open how he slowly dressed himself. Stepping into his boxer briefs, he soon located his socks and jeans. You couldn’t help yourself. You propped yourself on your elbow, now obviously watching him with interest. “Enjoying the show, are we?” he whispered, his bare back to you. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t I ever?” you said back cheekily. He turned around towards your bed and kneeled upon it: “I’m sorry I woke you. Get some more sleep and I’ll be back in a bit.” Sitting up, you pulled him close to feel his bare chest against yours and kissed him slowly on the mouth.
After a while of unhurried kissing and soft touching, he drew away from you. Father Paul traced your lips with his thumb and smiled: “I’ll be here soon.” You nodded and lowered yourself back onto the mattress, content to just watch him finish putting on his clothes. It was very early, still rather dark and the clouds in the sky made it seem even darker. When he was finished, he gave you one more soft kiss and left. He had a thick raincoat and boots in the hallway, just so he wouldn’t get absolutely soaked the second he stepped out of the door. Though you absolutely wouldn’t mind caring for him again, he was very much not keen on the idea of catching another stupid illness.
You dozed off again and when you woke up, more light was pouring in from your windows. It immediately struck you as odd that your bed was entirely priest-free. You looked at the alarm clock and it said half past nine. Hm . Normally, Paul would be long back by then. But then again, perhaps there actually were some attendees for the mass today, and maybe one or more of them stayed for confessions. Well, whatever it may be, you knew Paul would come back eventually. Until then, you wanted to clean the house a little; it got a little bit dusty, since you spent so much time at the rectory.
—
Meanwhile, Father Paul was standing in a classroom, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. In front of him, behind a desk, stood Bev Keane, looking sour and cold. “It’s just until the weather clears up, Bev,” tried Father Paul, his voice soft, “you know as well as I that the church is empty everyday, save for you and me, everyday except Sunday.” Beverly looked at him coldly, unrelenting: “Well, what if somebody does show up, what if someone finds themselves in need of your guidance and they’re met with a sign that says ‘Daily mass cancelled due to bad weather’?” “Then I am a phone call away,” replied the priest immediately, fishing out the basic smart phone you got for him to use. You couldn’t fathom how he managed to hold on to his old java phone for as long as he did…
“Besides,” he continued, “I’m thinking of your health, too.” His voice was warm now and it caught Bev off guard: “My health?” Paul smiled: “but of course. Annie told me Ed fell ill a few days ago with a cold. Warren too, though you already know that. Surely you can’t enjoy walking all the way to church everyday in such a downpour!” He looked at her expectantly. After a few moments, she finally spoke: “So, what now? Just cancel daily mass? What about Sunday?” ‘Got it!’ Father Paul cheered inwardly, giving Beverly a calm smile on the outside: “Sunday mass will be held as usual, of course. Daily mass will be cancelled until the weather is more favourable and if anything else needs to be done, home visits, confessions, I’ll be in the rectory or on the phone.” The woman didn’t look pleased nor angry, and just nodded her head: “Very well then. I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ll find letters for the board in the rec centre.” And with this, Paul knew it was time for him to leave.
As he left the school, he breathed a sigh of relief and finally smiled genuinely. “So, what’s the verdict?” asked a familiar voice behind him. Erin Greene stood to the side of the building, holding an umbrella and looking at him expectantly. “No mass except Sunday.” he said, turning to face her. “Wow. You actually did it, I’m impressed,” Erin chuckled, “anyway, you can come pick it up in two hours or so, I should be done by then.” And with that, she took off towards her house, leaving Paul standing there in his raincoat. He smiled again, wider this time - his plan was coming together nicely.
—
When Erin told him your birthday was coming up soon, Father Paul knew he wanted to do something special for you. A picnic, then a cinema date on the mainland, followed by a romantic dinner. Well, man plans and God laughs - he sure wasn’t planning on this weather which seemed to come out of nowhere, destroying his ideas. An outside picnic was out of the question, and a single ride on the ferry would probably mean the only thing you’d be doing in bed would be nursing a cold. But he wasn’t about to give up. Erin was more than willing to help, offering to make her famous pasta primavera for the two of you, so you could still have your romantic dinner and Paul gratefully accepted. She laughed at him, when he confessed he bribed Sturge to bring him a list of things from the mainland a day before your birthday. This resulted in a rather uncomfortable Sturge meeting him with a bag of items priests don’t usually ask for, but he didn’t say a single thing about it.
Now he had everything he needed. In his messenger’s bag was a bottle of champagne and a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with strings. The priest had a thermobag containing the still steaming hot dish in his hand. Everything well hidden under the raincoat, of course. Once he stood outside of your house, he looked around. The streets were empty and he didn’t see any prying eyes in the windows either. He knocked once. Then twice.
—
You opened the door to find him just standing there, smiling from ear to ear, his face flushed from the cool air and his raincoat dripping. “Hello! Oh, come in,” you hurriedly stepped away from the door so he could enter, “I say, what have you been up to? Don’t tell me the church was full.” He chuckled: “It wasn’t. In fact, there won’t be anyone there until Sunday. ‘Daily mass cancelled due to bad weather’.” Paul winked at you and started to shed his coat, mindful of the items in his hands. You stood closeby, looking at him with interest: “What have you got there?” The priest looked sheepish all of a sudden. He hung his coat and took off his boots. He finally went to embrace and kiss you, once he put both his bags away.
You still regarded him curiously and he looked down shyly: “Erin told me about your birthday. I wanted to do something special for you.” You made a soft ‘tsk’ sound. “Oh come here, you!” you sighed, deeply touched and held him to you once more, kissing his neck softly and slowly moving to lay a trail of kisses to his cheek, then to his mouth, then upon his chin and back again. “You know you didn’t have to do anything though, do you? Just being here with you is very special to me.”
“I know,” he said, finally looking at you, “but, well. Since Erin already prepared her pasta primavera for us, and I made Sturge get a good champagne…” He had to laugh as your eyes went wider and wider and the excitement was evident on you. You prepared the plates and cutlery while Paul fetched the glasses. He knew where you kept candles in your house and covertly lighted a few of them and brought them closer to the table. Of course, you noticed immediately and went to kiss him again. Not that he argued. Once you started eating (and making content soft noises as the food was delicious), Paul told you of the things he wanted to do with you originally, but couldn’t because of the weather. You didn’t mind at all, though, seeing as you were sitting opposite your amazing lover, eating mouth watering food and drinking sweet sparkling wine.
More than the champagne though, you were getting drunk on his attention. His eyes didn’t leave yours and his hand always lay atop your own, if you weren’t currently using it. It was dizzying in the best of ways. But then something caught your attention. His leg bumped into yours a few times under the table and then stayed there. “Do you remember that one day we were on the mainland together? The one that ended with me kissing your cheek for the first time?” you asked suddenly. Paul grinned into his plate: “I’m glad that you only talk about the day like this and not as the day I caught the flu from an another priest.” You giggled softly and grabbed his hand, caressing his fingers. “Yeah… we were sitting in that restaurant and I kept losing my train of thoughts because your legs would bump into mine just like that. Back then, I understood, you know, with your long legs and the small table, but now I’m not that sure. Was that on purpose, back then?” you asked, bumping into his leg to show what you meant. Father Paul looked a bit sheepish again: “Yes,” he said, his cheeks flushing a little, “I mean, it was an accident at first, but then once I found I could get away with it… “ “You scoundrel!” you laughed loudly and he joined you.
Soon, you were both done with your food and were engaging in flirty and loving banter, looking into each others’ eyes. “What do you say,” began Father Paul, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve, “I take care of the dishes and you run us a hot bath?” You grinned at him, tracing your fingertip along the rim of the glass: “ ‘I love you, Paul’ , that’s what I say.” And without another word you got up, grabbed both of your glasses and the bottle and ran into the bathroom. Oh, thank god for that bathtub. You and Paul got to try it together on two occasions already, and it was very comfortable and relaxing… among other things. Taking a nice soak seemed like the perfect thing to battle the cold that seemed to attack Crockett Island so unexpectedly.
Soon enough, Paul joined you in the bathroom. You smiled when you heard him and bent over a little to feel the temperature of the water, deeming it perfect. The priest came up behind you and grabbed you gently by the shoulders, pulling you back and into him, finally wrapping his arms around your torso and burying his face into your neck. You curled your arms around his own and swayed with him softly into an nonexistent rhythm. You then turned around in his arms and grabbed his face, laying your forehead against his and staring deeply into his eyes. Without another word, he gave you another soft kiss to your lips and tugged at the hem of your t-shirt. You raised your arms and let him pull it up and over your head, your hands immediately going to the buttons of his shirt once they were free of the garment.
You continued undressing each other until you were completely bare and Paul wordlessly stepped into the bathtub, made himself comfortable, then reached a hand towards you. You took it and climbed right after him. Some minor adjustments later, you were leaning into him, your back against his chest with his arms once more enveloping you in their gentleness. “I love you,” you said again, your eyes closed. Your body was absolutely relaxed, as was your mind for once, and your heart sang with bliss. Paul left a trail of kisses on your neck and shoulders. “I love you too,” he whispered into your skin, “so much.”
—
“I’ve got one more thing” he said once you were finished with your bath and got out of the tub. “Hm?” you looked over to him a bit distracted, still drying your leg into one of your fluffy towels. “I’ve got one more thing for you. But I’m going to need you to close your eyes.” said Father Paul with a smile and stepped out into the hallway, naked like the day he was born. You smiled and closed your eyes, waiting for your lover to return. You heard footsteps drawing near again: “got them closed?” You hummed in affirmation. The priest grasped your shoulders again and walked behind you. Except he continued walking, making you walk too wherever he was leading you. “Stay there and keep them closed,” he stepped away and there was some rustling. You felt his presence behind you once more and jumped a bit when something cool touched your collarbone. Still, your eyes were closed. The cool feeling now spread around your entire neck, except the very back of it, where you felt Paul’s warm hands fiddling with something.
“Open your eyes,” he said against your ear and put his hands upon your shoulder again. You did and your gaze fell immediately to the little piece of jewellery that now adorned your neck. It was a thin silver necklace, plain, and its ends met in the middle of your throat, both of them connected to a single small angel’s wing. It was simple, with no complicated decor or grand stones, but it was the most beautiful necklace you have ever owned in your entire life. Looking at it and your own reflection in the mirror brought tears into your eyes and you covered your mouth. “Do you like it?” asked Paul. He too was observing you and himself in the mirror, and he sounded a bit worried at seeing your tears. You couldn’t speak and just nodded your head frantically, turning around to fall into his embrace again. You clang to him, wanting him to feel all of your love.
“I love it,” you said once you finally found your voice again, “it’s so beautiful. Oh, Paul, it’s so beautiful, thank you.” He just held you tighter. Once you’ve calmed down a bit, he took a hold of your face to look at you. He lovingly took in every part of your face which became so very dear to him and his eyes trailed lower, towards the necklace. “I hoped you’d like it. Made me think of you. My beautiful angel.” You caught his lips in a kiss filled with love and passion, pushing your tongue into his willing mouth almost right away, and your hands found their way into his hair. You kissed him desperately, adoringly, pleadingly, absolutely devotedly and he reciprocated in the same manner. When you had to part for breath, else you lost consciousness, you once again caught yourself in an intense eye contact. “I just realised,” you said dreamily and Paul hummed in question, “it’s Friday tomorrow. And you said masses except the Sunday one were cancelled.” Paul grinned at you wolfishly and the look sent shivers down your spine, and made your blood boil and rush into all kinds of places. “Due to bad weather, yes,” he said, his voice low, lustful, “thanks to bad weather, we’ve got the entire night. Just to ourselves.” And with that, he picked you up bridal style like you weighed nothing at all and carried you out of the bathroom.
—
Later, much, much later, you were lounging around in your bed, sipping on the champagne Father Paul ever so helpfully brought from the bathroom, talking softly and in hushed tones. “So, how did I do?” he asked suddenly. Your cheeks just began to lose their flush, but it started to settle back in again immediately. “Oh,” you purred, “you know very well that you did wonderfully.” He chuckled and landed a very light slap upon your bum, making you squeal quietly, delighted and amused. “Not what I meant,” he said, smiling still, “I meant your birthday.” You tipped your head back in realisation and laughed, but then sat up and put your glass onto the bedside table. You tucked your head under his chin and curled into him like a happy tired kitten: “Best birthday ever. I mean that.” The priest smiled and ran his warm strong hand up and down your back, making you close your eyes in bliss. “I love you my angel,” he whispered then. “Love you too, dearest” you replied, your voice sincere, and huddled closer to him, as close as you could. You probably didn’t even realise it, but Paul noticed almost right away. Every so often, every few minutes even, your right hand would go to your throat, then your collarbone and lower, before finally resting against your heart with your fingers touching that little angel’s wing. And you would smile. And Father Paul, he smiled too.
I hope you enjoyed reading! As always, you can find this story and the entire series on AO3. I am always a happy little sucker for feedback!
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#midnight mass#midnight mass fanfiction#reader insert#father paul x you#father paul x reader#father paul#father paul hill#father paul hill x reader#fluff#implied smut
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What is Nnoitra's favourite time of day? Why is this? Does he have a daily practice, or routine, during this time?
Ya mean what's 'da least shitty part 'a 'da day? --- He was about to say that, but stopped himself. No reason to wave the depression flag so obviously. He made a hmm-sound instead, as he thought about the question. What WAS the least shitty part of the day?
The mornings sucked. He woke up in his bed, alone. His bedroom was a little cold ( he needed to buy a heater before winter, or he was going to fucking die ). The first thing that would hit him was a feeling of disappointment. Like he hadn't expected to wake up, and was feeling disheartened because he had to start yet another day. He'd lay in bed for a good few minutes, scrolling his phone or watching a couple of funny youtube videos to try to cheer himself up. If he woke up with a morning wood, he'd maybe watch porn, or just jerk off right away. Then he'd get up. The cold air would make him hurry into the bathroom for a steaming shower.
After getting dressed, it was time for breakfast. His fridge was more or less ALWAYS empty ( because he'd eat everything in the fridge when coming home late at night ). So, he'd have to go out to get breakfast. Usually, he felt a little better during this time of the day. The shower helped his mood, and the prospect of food was at least something to look forward to.
He'd get his breakfast early, while everyone else was heading to their 9-5 jobs. Usually something unhealthy. Pastries. During this season ( autumn ), he'd get cinnamon buns or something like that. He usually got his breakfast at the nearest bakery. At this point, the owner recognized him and knew what his regular order was. If the weather was shit, he'd sit at the bakery and eat. If the weather was nice, he'd maybe walk to the park and eat there. If he went out, he'd get hot-chocolate to-go. This was, maybe his "favorite" part of the day. Eating something sweet, drinking something hot... If the weather was nice, he'd be outdoors, which he really enjoyed. This would lift his mood, and he'd feel alright. For a while, he'd be OKAY with the day.
From there on, his mood normally went downhill. If the weather was bad, he'd go back home ( usually he'd bring something to snack on ), and watch TV. He'd find some kind of show he was mildly interested in, and watch that while laying on the couch. If the sun was out, he'd stay outdoors. Walk around the park for a while. Get some snacks. Maybe stop at the local basketball court and watch if there was a street-game on. Walk some more. Until it was dinner time.
Once again, he'd head to get food. His mood would begin to pick up again around now. Food always helped. He'd get some fastfood. Whatever he was feeling at the time. He'd stay at the fastfood joint to eat ( SOMETIMES he bothered to walk home with the food ), on rare, RARE occasions, he'd get groceries and cook for himself. But holy FUCK, that was rare.
His mood would stay stable, and he'd head to work. Depending on how many, and how difficult the fight(s) that night would be, he might feel a bit excited.
The fight? He loved it. He fucking LOVED his job. He NEVER felt depressed or whatever when he was fighting. He loved the cheer of the crowd, and just feeling like HE WAS THE STRONGEST. It was amazing. It had little to do with the time of the day though, since he knew he'd be feeling the same no matter WHEN he fought ( he knew that from experience, from when he'd fought outside of working hours ). He'd be on a high after the fight, that would last for... Around 30 minutes, so he'd make it home before he started to feel like shit again.
He'd feel disappointed about not being able to see the stars because of all the light pollution. Then he'd start to think about the fact that tomorrow as yet another day. He would think to himself: i don't wanna do this all over again. Then he'd go to bed and --- repeat it all the next day.
So, his favorite part of the day? It was either while eating breakfast, or the 30 minutes after his fight. He just didn't want to think. Didn't want to focus on all the negativity in his life. Was that too much to ask? Yeah, clearly.
It was a good while since he'd seen the stars, or seen the moon clearly. Not since the last time he travelled out of the city. When had that been? He couldn't even remember. However, he DID remember that seeing the clear night sky ALWAYS made him feel good. It was a strange sort of comfort that he couldn't even explain. Something that had nothing to do with what he was doing or whatever. That had to mean that the night was his favorite part of the day.
❝ 'Da night. ❞ He answered, not elaborating.
#avaere#[ not me describing his whole day LOL ]#[ A NORMAL DAY IN HIS LIFE ]#[ thank you for sending!! ]#[ it was interesting :O ]#[ also now i need him to travel to see the stars xD ]#[ man needs it ]
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Writober 2023 1 - Dream
Summary: Maybe becoming the CO has made Alistair Shepard more exhausted than he thought. He'd have to be tired to dream of THAT, right?
(Set during ME1)
---
Nothing like the beeping of an alarm clock to make you wish you had five more fucking minutes.
“Al, you gotta get up…”
A voice, soft and translated, called to him from somewhere to his right. Alistair yawned as his eyes slowly opened, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He glanced to the side – his omni-tool was telling him it was a little after 6. He had until 6:30 to get up, or at least that’s why he set two alarms.
Next to him, the bed stirred. He looked over – there was a turian next to him, naked and only covered up by the sheet. Garrus didn’t have to get up as early as he did, which is probably why he wanted the alarm shut off so quickly. Turians, even with all their military training, didn’t like getting up early any more than humans did.
Alistair smiled as he leaned over to kiss him on the top of his hard head. “Sorry for waking you up, babe.”
Garrus yawned, exposing his sharp teeth, as he rolled over on his side to ignore the sun. “You’re forgiven as long as you start the coffee for me before you go.”
He’d much rather stay in bed and cuddle with his husband… but duty called.
“That’s a deal.” He planted another kiss as he slowly got out of bed, yawning as he stretched. Outside his window, it was another day on the Citadel. People were going about their early morning business, and soon he would join them as he headed to work. But that wasn’t for thirty more minutes. He had time.
Quickly, he headed to the dresser where he stored his things. The mirror shot back his reflection – the early morning sun highlighted the thin scars on his chest, making them stand out. He dressed in his clothes for the day – a pair of jeans, a polo shirt, and his sneakers. While it wasn’t the most professional look, as long as he had his white coat on nobody really cared. That was hanging in the entryway, which meant he had to leave his sleepy husband behind to start the day.
Alistair made his way to their kitchen, where he flicked on the coffee maker that Garrus used. Turian safe coffee smelled disgusting honestly, but his husband loved it so he put up with it. Besides, some of his food probably smelled awful to the turian.
Then again, were their noses all that strong to begin with? He had never asked… maybe it was better if he didn’t.
At any rate, once he had grabbed something to eat and slipped into his badge of office, Alistair was out the door. His office was close to where he lived, so most mornings he walked it. One of his neighbors called out to him as he walked, so he waved back.
Nice guy – he liked his dog.
The morning sun was a refreshing one at any rate, bringing with it the cool bite of autumn. The Citadel’s season system had just started its shift, so the leaves were slowly beginning to turn to reds and golds before they fell and were swept up. It was a beautiful sight, one that filled him with energy for a long day.
It was going to be a good one – he had a feeling about it.
---
One thing was for sure… it was a busy one.
“Now, that didn’t hurt so much, did it? What color band aid do you want, I’ve got plenty to choose from over here.”
His patient at the moment was an asari girl, the equivalent of a human age of 7, coming in for her round of vaccinations. Her father stood nearby, eyeing her daughter with a hawk’s gaze. Asari commandos made great fathers that way – nobody messed with their kids.
“Can I have the pink one?” She asked, pointing to one of the bandages in his selection. He smiled and applied it to her blue skin, covering up the injection sight. She had taken her shot like a champ, so he was more than happy to indulge her.
His last biotic patient had almost made him float, so he took what he got.
“You did a great job. Bet your dad taught you how to be brave.” He gave her a thumbs up and a lollipop as she cheered. “Alright, you’re good to go. Head out with your dad to the office and make your next appointment, and I’ll see you both next time.”
The father and daughter left the room, and he sighed in relief. It was nearly lunch, and he was ready to take a break. Since it was autumn, all the kids were coming in for their back-to-school vaccinations, so he was seeing a lot of tears and handing out a lot of colorful band aids.
He would need to stock up on the jumbo sized – pretty sure he had krogan kids coming in next week so they could go to kindergarten.
“You’ve got a way with kids, Al.”
He turned – one of the nurses was standing in the doorway, clipboard in hand. Kaidan Alenko was one of his closest friends, and he was a damn good nurse to boot. The practice wouldn’t run nearly as well without him to say the least, so Alistair was glad that he was there.
“Just gotta remember they’re little people and it makes everything go easier.” He chuckled as they left the room. “I’ve got one more before lunch, right?”
Kaidan checked his omni-tool. “Nope, looks like they rescheduled for next week. Enjoy your break and get ready for after. Those batarian twins are coming by for their shots, and we have a little elcor who might have the flu.”
Oh boy… he was going to need his energy for that.
At any rate, Alistair withdrew into his office to hide away from the world for a little bit. Just as he sat down, his omni-tool began to beep. It was coming from Garrus, who was probably on his lunch break too.
He smiled as he clicked on, watching the video pop up. “Having a good day, babe?”
“It be better if I was with you, Al.” He had his C-Sec uniform on, and from the looks of things his desk was covered in files. “How’s tending to the youth of the Citadel going?”
Alistair chuckled as he leaned back. “Oh, fine. I have to diagnose an elcor with the flu later, and my favorite twins are stopping by to give me the stink eye.”
“How the hell do you diagnose an elcor?”
“They usually tell you, but we have some good stethoscope to check their chests if that doesn’t help.” He smiled. “She’s a good kid, so it shouldn’t be much trouble.”
All his patients were good kids – even the twins. It was all about getting down to their level and understanding what was bothering them. Anyone could do it really, but he was glad he had an edge with it for his job.
Garrus shook his head, but he smiled. “They’re lucky to have such a nice doctor. I doubt I’d have the patience.”
“That’s why you work in C-Sec, babe.” Alistair chuckled. “But I won’t keep you long. See you after work?”
“If this case doesn’t keep me.” He paused. “Love you, Al.”
“Love you too, Garrus. Remember to drink some water and flex your talons, I don’t want you getting pains in your wrists like you did last month…”
The playful groan was all Alistair heard before the call cut out with a quick goodbye. What could he say, he was a doctor – caring for people was his job. At least he could relax for a little bit before his afternoon cases.
“Al…”
Weird, sounded like it was coming from above him. He checked his omni-tool – nobody was on the line.
“Al!”
They were really close. Was it Kaidan? Should he-
“Alistair fucking Shepard, are you dead or what?”
---
Alistair’s eyes snapped open as he realized he had fallen asleep at his desk. He sat up, groaning as he rubbed the back of his neck. His fingers ghosted against his amp, the metal cool for the moment. It was finally cooling down after a little too much use planetside.
“Fuck, I thought you were dead for a second.”
He glanced up – there was a large shadow attached to an even larger woman. His sister and second in command Bo Peep Shepard didn’t look amused as she crossed her arms over her chest. He blushed, glancing away.
She had caught him sleeping on the job.
“Sorry, guess becoming the CO is taking more out of me than I thought.” He rubbed his eyes. “Are we still in FTL?”
Bo nodded stiffly as she motioned to the door. “Yeah, just wanted to let you know Vakarian and Wrex settled in and we’re going to be close to Noveria soon.”
Right – they were going there to investigate. Alistair shuddered at the thought as he stood, pushing his desk chair in. Noveria was cold as hell, and even his armor wouldn’t do much against it. The built in heater would keep him from freezing, but he wouldn’t be comfortable to say the least. Oh, the things he did to hunt down info on Saren…
Still, the mention of the turian made his face heat up.
Bo spotted it, and she cocked an eyebrow. “What’s got you so red in the face, Al?”
“It’s a long story… I had one hell of a weird dream while I was out.” He shook his head as he headed to the door. “Come on, we can at least get our equipment ready for Noveria. You’re coming with me, because if I have to freeze so do you.”
Her groan was worth it, and at least it shook the dream from his mind. It was amazing where his thoughts went when he was tired. Part of him felt bad Garrus had been included in the mix… but what the turian didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
It had been a nice dream, though, far from his military reality. If only it could be real… but that sort of thing was regulated only to dreams. His real life wasn’t so simple, or safe. Nor was it as warm as that bedroom had been.
Oh well. He would be able to forget it soon enough. Noveria freezing him into place would make sure of that.
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It was beautiful today. I was cold but I'm really glad I was outside today. Good for the soul.
Last night I had to wake James up because there was a giant cockroach type bug in the bathtub and it was so big it would t go down the drain. But I was able to fall asleep pretty fast after that.
James left for work a little before I had to be up. And once I got up I was just super tired but it wouldn't last. I actually would feel really good once I was washed and dressed.
It was chilly out but I was fine for the most part. I had a nice drive out to camp. I stopped for breakfast. And got to camp by 915.
I went up to the art building. Changed my shoes. Fell over changing my shoes. Had the hatch back close and just barely miss my head. I was killing it.
I was a little early though and so I went to say good morning to Alexi. Got my walkie. And then Elizabeth was there and she gave me her keys to go unlock the eyrie to get materials.
It would be a really nice day though. The group would be coming at 10. We had a lot of chaperones. And they would be excellent. But it is a little intimidating having all those parents waiting on the lodge.
I got my stuff set up pretty fast. And went to chat with Elizabeth about upcoming programs and ideas. Told her about glassblowing last week. And soon Sarah (not musuem Sarah, camp Sarah) was there too. She had a really bad morning. With alarms not going off and then getting pulled over on the drive in. Thankfully left off with a warning. But man that sounds super stressful.
I had four groups today. And it was a nice time. I like doing the bee program. And honestly I'm finding it easier to fill the time in because it's 40 minutes and not the full hour but also I think their attention span is being held better.
I had some nice conversations with the kids. They got most of the terms I wanted them to know. I also set up paper to do a community garden drawing again. And while these were 1st graders they still did a good job and were really fun.
Something I have noticed lately though. Sometimes you will have a little kid that speaks almost exclusively in memes and internet lingo. And nothing makes me cringe about kids more then this. Like I find it so obnoxious. But also I really worry for them. Kids shouldn't know that much Internet culture! Like shouldn't have all these memes on deck and feel comfortable just talking in them. Using them correctly! They shouldnt be in spaces online where they would see them. It doesn't matter that they aren't inappropriate, it is inappropriate that they don't understand them so they shouldn't be exposed to it. But also it's going to ostracized them from their peers. Whoever it letting them be this chronically online at 7 years old is setting them up for failure. It sucks. Cause it's never a whole class it's always one kid who is very loudly repeating memes and phrases from TikTok and YouTube. And I hate it so much.
The child who was doing it was sweet and clearly on the spectrum. So like as a stim response I get it. Repeating phrases that make your brain feel good. But it is a lot for me. And him knowing so much about internet slang makes me think he's a lot at home and is just being left to be babysat by the internet. And I told him internet slang is banned in the art building which made him laugh but at least he stopped.
During lunch I went and sat in the thunderbird basement bedrooms. Because I was cold and it was cozy down there. I watched some videos and ate my pasta. And soon it was time for the afternoon block.
The day was honestly easy though and I was feeling good. Once we were done I sent everyone off. Got a few hugs. And went to put all the material away. Chatted with Elizabeth and Sarah. And then I headed home.
I had some energy. And so I was determined to get home and make my poster for this weekend. That I have been avoiding for no reason. I would get back here and park and throw all my car trash away.
I did my poster. And it took some effort but I did it and I'm proud of that. And then spent some time cleaning. The cleaned the tanks. I stopped replacing the filters a few months ago and now the mossy plants are growing through the filters themselves which I think it really neat. My water has never been healthier honestly. With frequent partial changes to get the gravel debris out. I am pretty positive the snails ate my fish though because I cannot find a body anywhere. I am really sorry fishy. I wanted you to have a good life but I think you might have been old when I got you. I hope you still enjoyed your time with me.
I vacuumed and put some stuff away. Had a snack. And did some embroidery.
And soon James was home. James would make cornbread. And I made a chili soup which should have simmered longer but was still good. .
While that was cooking I chilled and watched videos. Had a nice interaction with the person who runs the Franklin Fountain's (the ice cream shop James used to work at) TikTok because they were so excited to find out James was my husband. And James was in the other room recording their podcast.
Eventually I would lay in bed. Hang out with Sweetp. Talk to Jess and to Laura. And eventually went to take a bubble bath.
And now we are in bed. It was a good day. I am tired but feeling happy. I hope you all have a good night tonight. Take care of each other. Be safe. I'm at the nursery tomorrow. Fingers crossed it's an easy day and we have fun. Sleep good!
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