#its obvious that I found the inspiration and my mind was like
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❋ You said what now? ❋
↳ He accidentally found out your feelings
feat: Ruggie ⭑ Chenya ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Epel
genre: fluff (uhh for the most part), humour,
note: no pronouns used with the reader, no explicit spoilers for book 7 in Lilia’s section, reader is referred as human in Lilia’s section, reader is implied to be a first year in Epel’s section, bad cat-related wording in Chenya’s section
Fun fact: while not obvious in the English translation, if you listen to Chenya’s Japanese voice lines, he likes to say “nya” at the end of his sentences.
Will I keep that fact in mind anytime Chenya pops up? Absolutely.
Also, I just started my college classes again last week (which is why I didn’t post last week). All of my classes are dense with text and quizzes so…I need to study real hard which will most likely eat up my time for writing. Good ol’ inconsistent me~
Although, I’m taking History and we focus a bit on the age of nobility and old kingdoms…so maybe some inspiration for my villain/ess!au series (or maybe not cuz history is weirder than one thinks…)
How it happened
Perhaps a little sneaky, Ruggie is someone reliable, resourceful, and fun to be around. You started to fall for him and even that sneaky side of his became endearing to you.
But bigger, financial priorities occupy the hyena beastman’s mind more than anything else. Unless he can make a madol from it or get a freebie, his interest in anything else is seemingly non-existent. It was rather easy to keep your feelings to yourself when the topic of love rarely, if ever, comes up.
So it came to a surprise to you when the shaggy-haired sophomore mentioned his coworkers at a part-time job he picked up in town.
He started ranting about how a duo at his workplace started an unlikely relationship a few days ago. According to him, the two were from two different worlds and didn’t appear to be either of their types.
“Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me” he mumbled, scratching his fluffy head by the sudden revelation at his job.
You nodded and hummed as he recounted his workday with you, but in all honesty, you didn’t share his confusion over the so-called sudden pairing. By the way Ruggie described the couple, it does sound like their personalities wouldn’t mesh well and would theoretically clash too much for anything to bloom between them.
But attraction follows no simple formula. No one can stop themselves from falling for someone. You yourself were an example.
“Love is never predictable, Ruggie.” you commented without thinking, perhaps too distracted by the cute love story of Ruggie’s coworkers or it could be that you’re drowning in the warm feelings from being so close to your crush that your mouth is running too comfortably on its own. “I mean, I never thought you were my type but I still ended up-“
You shut your mouth before you could finish but looking at the wide-eyed expression on Ruggie’s face, the effort was moot.
“You still ended up?”
…Shoot.
What happens now?
Colour him shocked. Ruggie never entertained the idea that you would like him, out of all people.
He could’ve pretended not to figure it out, or convince himself that it was a misunderstanding. But he knew when he saw your flustered embarrassment and your cute stuttering trying to come up with an excuse, there was no misunderstanding. You like him.
Ruggie has a good amount of ego and he wouldn’t downplay his boyish good looks (odds are it got him out of a few close calls), but in a school of celebrities, royalty, and guys with money coming out the wazoo? He knows when he’s outmatched.
To be honest, his brain froze for a moment at your slip up. He clutched his heart which stuttered out of beat, his ears and tail stood in attention like a meerkat. Jack was worried watching his upperclassman in such a daze while folding laundry, heck it even got Leona raising a brow over the uncharacteristic clocked out look on his shorter dormmate.
But, Ruggie is a workaholic hyena. Always planning his way to work up the ladder to earn some good madol. Even if he likes the idea of making a family of his own, romance wasn’t in his peripheral vision at the moment. Not while he’s working multiple jobs at once. He would honestly feel a little bad because he knows he’ll end up ignoring any poor soul stuck with him.
As bad as it is, he might at first think to pretend he heard nothing about your feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to make you go through that, to be in a relationship where work takes precedence over you.
But then he thought it wouldn’t be so bad…snuggling up to you during one of his rare free time. Maybe you’re the type to surprise him with lunch and he could rest on your lap while you brush his hair. Would you maybe rub his sore muscles after an arduous club training session? Having boyfriend privileges means no one can complain when he slides up to your side, keeping your attention to himself without having to share…
Screw it, he’ll figure something out. He’s a greedy hyena through and through
Shyeheehee! Better be ready for what you’re asking for. Once I’ve set my eyes on something, I’m not lettin’ it get away!
How it happened
This man is a literal magic trick, appearing and disappearing to revel in the shock of his unsuspecting audience. As elusive as he is, the times he does show up brings a shock of joy and excitement to you.
It seems that the purple-haired student has made it a habit to join the Heartslabyul’s unbirthday parties from time to time, enjoying the occasional chaos and keeping you company to your conflicted delight.
You didn’t know why but Chenya made it his mission to fluster you every chance he gets, with cheeky comments and sly touches as he leads you away from incoming mishaps such as a stray splash of paint or a flying slice of cake. You don’t know why but the cat-like menace has taken a shine to teasing you out of the blue. Sometimes he would suddenly whisper nonsensical riddles into your ear, or tap your shoulder to then poke your cheek as you turn. Small silly pranks that should annoy you but your body becomes filled with butterflies when he smiles that charming grin at you.
How maddening, you thought as you fell for another sneaky surprise from the impish beastman. Once again, Chenya appeared right behind you, smiling just over your shoulder which gave you and your friends a fright (for different reasons) to which he took pleasure in, judging from the mischievous grin on his lips.
Your shouting caught the attention of the other Heartslabyul students and recognizing the white jacket and castle emblem, their eyes boiled with competitive rage. An RSA student? On Night Raven territory?!
“Ah, looks like fun time is over. I’ll just show meowself out~” and like a mirage, Chenya’s figure disappeared as the NRC students failed to catch even a strand of his fur. Not even when he took a second longer to fade out just so he could teasingly tickle the tip of your nose with his fluffy striped tail.
The students kept on making a fuss, eager to teach the mischief maker a lesson for trespassing on rival territory. You sighed at the wasteful effort, assuming that Chenya would be smart enough to have left long ago.
“Why must my crush be such a frustrating person?” Angry hollers and Riddle’s commanding cease-and-desist orders overwhelmed your tired voice, and your soft words ended up softly carried off into the wind.
But your words caught the interest of a curious ear before it disappeared.
What happens now?
Curiouser and curiouser. He was not expecting such a confession. Though to be fair, he supposed you didn’t mean for anyone to hear it.
Chenya found joy being in your company. The shock in your bright eyes followed by your cute laugh sends a warm, giddy feeling in his heart that he just could not stop. He had a feeling he knew what these feelings could be but he was content with what he could get in the rare moments he can see you.
But now, when he realized what your cute reactions meant? That sends whole new exciting feelings within him. It’s fuzzy and warm as usual, but now also shocking and thrilling. The sneaky beastman is grinning for more than one reason now.
He won’t immediately confess back. Considering this wonderful predicament where you don’t know he knows of your affections, his playful nature compels him to milk the fun of this situation for all its worth.
If you thought his cheeky antics were bad enough, you haven’t seen his flirty side till now. Playful taps on the shoulders become sneaky grabs by the waist, and just when you think he’s gone, his signature grin would grace your vision as he fades into view, a little too close to your own face. Sometimes when he feels emboldened, Chenya would sweep you off your feet for a spontaneous walk along the sweet breeze.
When you’re finally at your wit’s end, when all his teasing and heart-fluttering gestures fills you to the point of combusting in flustered frustration, that’s when he’ll finally tell you his reciprocated feelings, perhaps while stealing a quick kiss when you least suspect it. All to see that terribly adorable look on your pretty face.
Every adventure requires a first step. I’m excited to see where we’ll go together from meow on~
How it happened
See, you thought he already knew. You swore he did. Why else would he tease you so much with his sweet compliments and flirty jokes? The mysterious senior spoke to you as though you were a naive child crushing on their older peer, which you supposed wasn’t entirely wrong.
The way he treated you with so much care and love that you wondered if he already suspected of your feelings and was being considerate to you. He listens to your rambles as though he has all the time in the world for you, compliments you on your achievements as though he’s genuinely proud of your hard work, and he jokes with you with that boyish charm of his. But the scarlet-eyed fae never pursued further with advances with you, which made you think that perhaps this was just who Lilia was, a strange but friendly man, unwilling to hurt your feelings. Were you grasping at straws and misconstruing his intentions?
With a heavy heart, you tried your best to give up your hopes but maintained a cordial bond with Lilia, not wanting to avoid the jovial fae so suddenly (well, without having to explain why anyways)
But one day, when you were walking with the smiling senior, he started talking about a souvenir shirt that Kalim had given him during their club meeting. It was a shirt patterned erratically with various colours and pictures of tiny bats littered about. It was an eccentric visual of fabric but it strangely fits the equally eccentric man.
“What are your thoughts? Would I not look absolutely adorable in this?” Lilia asked, holding the shirt in front in his uniform with a boyish smile, his fangs peeking out slightly. But you rolled your eyes as you sighed exasperated by this man’s antics.
“Don’t you think that’s unfair for you to ask me?” You looked at him with a pout, somewhat irritated at the mature fae you’re trying to get over. “Of course I’d said you would, considering how much I like you”
For a rare moment, Lilia turned wide-eyed at your words. “Pardon? Do you by chance… harbour feelings for me?”
Turns out, he didn’t know at all
What happens now?
Guess you can still surprise this old man. He had his suspicions but for all he knew that was how the youth were these days. He was fond of your shy expressions whenever he was around and he could hear the quickening of your heartbeat, but he didn’t want to assume. Perhaps you were just more on the skittish side.
In the centuries he lived, he saw love in many forms. In the recent centuries he lived, he got to experience some of those forms of love he’s seen, with the pain and joy that comes with it. To him, it couldn’t ask for more as he lives out the last few centuries he has left.
You however, were still vibrant like a freshly bloomed flower in its prime. Was that why he just couldn’t take his eyes off you? He couldn’t help but watch in admiration as you lived with almost enviable vigour. He felt pulled, entranced to be by your side for even just a moment, just to see that beautiful gleam of life (and love, he realized) in your eyes.
But Lilia felt a beat of guilt in his heart. Your life is so short in comparison to his own. You should be sharing your youth with someone as brilliant as yourself, not pining over an old soul like himself. Humans are fickle creatures but he supposed with such short lives, it’s best to be curious and experience all one can without regrets.
He would be honest with you, sharing his thoughts with you as though warning that your affections were better spent with someone that suited you better. It would be up to you to convince the stubborn fae that he was your choice, that you already decided he suited you just fine. All you’re asking from him is if he shared the same feelings as you did.
“I may have tried to get rid of my feelings before, but I’m choosing not to run away this time,” in your eyes, Lilia sees that same vibrant gleam that mesmerized him, almost breathing a new sense of life into him. “All I ask is if you feel the same way”
And he does. He’s lying to himself if he hasn't thought of a life with you where he could steal surprise kisses throughout the day, where he could bring you to soar through the night skies as he takes you to explore the world with him. He imagines a life of silliness but also a life of blissful content as he gazes at you like a beacon of light in his life, a new reason to live a bit longer.
Lilia feels ensnared by love once more, but the burning warmth in his soul is just too invigorating. He’s looking forward to this new chapter in his life, with you.
I do hope you’ve prepared yourself, my dear. Eternal love with a fae should not be taken lightly. But rest assured, I look forward to our new adventure
How it happened
You were Epel’s close friend and confidant, someone who he can share his achievements and woes with. Being so new to the college, the two of you depend on each other through thick or thin and along the way, you grew to see the lavender-haired freshman as more than just a companion.
He has a bit of a temper and is quick to the jump at times, but he was always there for you and even though he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with them at times, he respects his seniors and takes their lessons to heart.
When he talks about how much he dislikes his height or his feminine features, you nodded along for his sake but you couldn’t tell him that you were actually in disagreement. You adore his fluffy locks that you occasionally got to touch with his permission and his light blue eyes felt like calming waves of the purest lake. Epel constantly swore to you that he’ll have his growth spurt and will even tower Leona in height, but you like how you could hold him close to you without issue.
You love all that he is, even if he’s not too keen on some parts himself
But you kept this all to yourself. You thought Epel had other priorities on his mind and you were scared that confessing would ruin the friendship you’d built with him. For now, you were content to be by his side for however long you can.
You were dead tired during a particularly harsh Flying class with Coach Vargas and you were barely conscious enough to keep your eyes open. It took everything you had to just nod along to whatever Epel was saying, something about some Savanaclaw students?
“Who they think they are, callin’ me cute like that? I outta rip off their yapper for underestimatin’ me.” You weren’t helping his point when you thought how cute his accent was as he grumbled about his day. You were falling in and out of consciousness but thought you should at least reply back to your friend…anything at all…
“I’m sorry…that happened…even though…I think…you’re really cute…”
You were already out cold to notice your friend frozen in place as you finished your drowsy comment, your head landing on his stiff shoulders.
What happens now?
ALDFIUAHLBWAIGLH
Congratulations, you broke your friend and you don’t even remember it. When you woke up, you couldn’t figure out why Epel was as bright red as his hometown’s apples. Epel couldn’t even bring it up without getting too tongue-tied, his accent sputtering out incomprehensible words.
The blue-eyed freshman was raking his brain for an explanation. You thought he was cute…really cute to be precise, but what does that mean? Did you like him? As in like-like him? Is it normal for non-countryside folk to just say something like that? But most students around here tend to mean it like an insult but you weren’t like them, you would never do that to him. So what did you mean by it??
Left without a choice, Epel thought about who he could ask about this, maybe one of his seniors. But he immediately reconsidered when he realized who his seniors were (Vil and Rook will never let this go and there’s no way Leona would entertain this conversation) and turned to the only adult he can trust, his meemaw.
In his letter, he asked his grandma what it means when someone you cherish calls you cute (not mentioning who) and after a few days of fidgeting and awkward encounters with very confused you, he finally got an answer from her.
“STOP SITTIN’ ON YOUR KEISTER TWIDDLIN’ ‘ER THUMBS! GO AND ASK, DAGNABBIT!”
And that’s how you were confronted by a flustered Epel about your cute comment one random school day. To be fair, you probably didn’t fare any better when you realized you let your thoughts slip out.
You may have confessed your attraction to him but Epel can still be the first to make the first move. Relationships and dating are all new to the petite freshman and honestly he felt a little weak in the knees, all the nerves wracking his body like his first broom ride. But the past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you, sweeping you off your feet, impressing you the only way he can, to have your eyes solely on him like he does when you’re around. Heck, he thought what it’d be like to grow old with you, holding you like no one else can as you spend day and night by each other’s side. All these thoughts and more is what spur him to take the next step.
I ain’t too great on love and romance, but I’ll work hard to show ya how much ya mean to me. I promise that!
#of course three trouble-making people ends up being on the same post#fate really be like that sometimes#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst imagines#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland imagines#Ruggie Bucchi#ruggie x reader#chenya x reader#Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker#Chenya#epel felmier#epel x reader#lilia vanrouge#Lilia x reader#twst fluff
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I could give you 50 reasons
pairing - lorenzo berkshire x nott!reader
summary - enzo starts recieving notes from a secret admirer and is determined to find out who's behind them
warnings - fluff, teasing, kinda insecure enzo, fem!reader
wordcount - 3k
a/n - this was kinda inspired by the song 'hey stephen' by taylor swift. this is also my final entry for the hogmarch challenge :)
Breakfast at Hogwarts was always a bustling affair, but today, the Great Hall seemed to buzz with an energy all its own. Enzo was settled into his usual spot at the Slytherin table between his friends, his mind still reeling from the recent breakup with his last girlfriend.
Despite the lively atmosphere around him, a sense of insecurity gnawed at him. It had been the third time he got dumped this school year. Of course, they always had good reasons too. He didn’t think he was a bad boyfriend at all, but he knew they deserved someone who was just as taken with them as they were with him. But he couldn’t help it. None of them ever had his mind spinning. None of them made him feel the same way you did.
But you weren’t an option. He dared a small glance at you, where you were sitting next to your brother two seats down from him, swatting your sibling’s arm as he tried to steal a piece of toast from your plate.
“Stop it if you want to keep that hand,” you grumbled, fixing Theo with a pointed look as you scooted your plate away from him. “I know you can be a little stupid but you can butter your own damn toast.”
Theo just rolled his eyes and reached over the table to nick a piece of bacon from Pansy’s plate instead.
You looked beautiful even with the glare on your face and your eyes still drooping sleepily. But Enzo quickly dropped his gaze back down to his own food. You were off limits. Theo had told him so years ago. If your brother ever found out about his feelings for you he’d be a dead man. Was he destined to never find the right girl?
A small brown owl swooped down and deposited an envelope onto his plate before flitting away, distracting him from his brooding. He arched an eyebrow, surprised by the unexpected interruption. Who would be sending him mail?
With a cautious glance around the Great Hall, Enzo opened the envelope, revealing an elegant script on the small note tucked inside. The words struck him like a bolt of lightning.
‘I love you because your smile lights up even the gloomiest of days.’
Enzo's heart skipped a beat. His eyes darted around, but there were no obvious suspects among his Slytherin peers. Everyone seemed to be focused on the conversation or fighting hard to stay awake. No one was even looking in his direction.
Reading the note again, Enzo felt a mix of warmth and unease wash over him. Assuming it to be a dumb prank, he folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. His appetite had vanished, so he excused himself from the table, his friends just murmuring in acknowledgement without even looking up.
Despite knowing that one of his friends was probably behind this and it was just a joke, he couldn't help the small glimmer of hope stirring within him.
ੈ♡˳
A day had passed since Enzo received the first mysterious note, yet the enigma had stayed in his mind like a lingering charm. As he settled into his seat for Charms class, he reached for his textbook, only to find another envelope nestled among its pages. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the script adorning the note inside. This time, the words seemed to leap off the page, echoing in his mind like a haunting melody.
‘I love you because your presence alone makes even the most mundane moments feel extraordinary.’
Enzo's pulse quickened, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts. Who could possibly be behind these heartfelt sentiments, and why choose to remain anonymous? His eyes darted around the classroom, but no one seemed to be paying him any particular attention.
With a furrowed brow, Enzo folded the note and tucked it away, his thoughts consumed by the mystery once more. Was this really just a prank, orchestrated by one of his friends to lift his spirits after his recent breakup? Or was there something more to it?
Lost in thought, Enzo barely noticed as Professor Flitwick began the day's lesson, his mind far away, consumed by thoughts of the mysterious admirer and the possibility of finding solace in their anonymous affections.
ੈ♡˳
Pushing open the door to the Slytherin locker room, Enzo froze as he ran straight into someone. He quickly reached out to grab your shoulders, making sure you didn’t fall.
"Hey, Enzo," you greeted him casually, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes. "Have you seen Theo around? I've been looking for him everywhere."
Enzo's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, his mind momentarily forgetting about the mysterious notes he had been thinking about as he took in your presence. You looked even more enchanting up close, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
"Uh, yeah, he's probably out on the pitch already," Enzo replied, trying to keep his composure despite the sudden flutter of nerves in his stomach. "You might catch him there."
With a nod of thanks, you flashed him another quick smile before disappearing down the corridor, leaving Enzo to ponder the encounter as he made his way to his locker.
As he opened the door, his heart skipped a beat as he spotted yet another envelope tucked inside, nestled among his Quidditch gear. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for it, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts.
Inside, he found another note, written in the same elegant script:
‘I love you because you're not afraid to be yourself, even when the world tries to tell you otherwise.’
Enzo's breath caught in his throat as he read the words, his mind swirling with a mixture of emotions. As he headed out onto the Quidditch pitch, his mind was filled with questions, but one thing was certain: the enigmatic notes had ignited a spark within him, one that refused to be extinguished. He had to figure out who was behind them.
ੈ♡˳
As Enzo joined his friends for dinner in the Great Hall the next day, his thoughts were still consumed by the notes that seemed to be appearing with increasing frequency. Despite his attempts to focus on the conversation around him, his mind kept drifting back to the words he had received, his hand absentmindedly touching the folded papers tucked into his robe’s pocket.
Lost in his thoughts, Enzo barely noticed as an owl swooped down and deposited yet another envelope onto his plate before flitting away. A mix of anticipation and apprehension swirled within him as he recognized the familiar handwriting.
Gingerly, he opened the envelope, revealing the latest note hidden inside:
‘I love you because you have a knack for telling the worst jokes with the best punchlines, leaving me in stitches every time.’
As the conversation at the table continued around him, Enzo couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. With each passing day, the weight of the unanswered questions grew heavier, and he knew he couldn't keep it to himself any longer.
Summoning his courage, Enzo turned to his friends, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his stomach.
"Hey, guys," he began, drawing their attention with a pointed look. "I need to talk to you about something."
His friends exchanged curious glances, eyebrows raised in interest as they waited for him to continue.
"It's about these notes I've been getting," Enzo explained, his words carefully measured. "I've been getting one every day. Any idea who could be behind it?"
A chorus of teasing laughter erupted from the group, and Enzo felt a pang of frustration at their reaction. He had hoped they might take this concerns seriously, but it seemed they were content to dismiss it with a joke.
"Awe, how cute," Blaise said with a smirk, shaking his head in amusement. "Our Enzo has a secret admirer."
Enzo's jaw tightened, his frustration mounting as he struggled to find the right words to convey the seriousness of the situation.
"Probably that first year who tripped over her own feet because she was staring at you this morning," Mattheo laughed, pointing over to the Hufflepuff table. “She’s over there right now if you wanna go shoot your shot.”
Before Enzo had the chance to tell his friend to fuck off, you spoke up from across the table, your voice cutting through the chatter with surprising firmness.
"Hey, cut it out, guys," you said, fixing his friends with a pointed look. "Enzo's obviously concerned about this, and it's not fair to make fun of him."
Enzo felt his ears heat up at your defense, a rush of gratitude flooding through him.
“Well, don’t get your hopes up, mate,” your brother decided to include himself in the conversation, ignoring the disgusted look you sent him as he kept talking while chewing his food. “Can’t imagine what they look like if they feel the need to hide behind those notes instead of just talking to you.”
"Whoever's writing those notes is probably just nervous to come forward. They might be scared that Enzo doesn't feel the same way," you spoke up again, looking notably less confident than just a moment ago as you poked around your plate with your fork.
“Yeah,” Pansy cut in, glaring at Theo and squeezing your arm under the table. “I think it’s cute. You guys just aren’t able to identify something romantic even when it hits you in the face.”
But Enzo barely heard Pansy as his mind whirled with the implications of your words. Could it be possible that the anonymous sender was feeling just as unsure and vulnerable as he was?
As the teasing continued around him, Enzo couldn't shake the newfound determination that had taken root within him. He had to find out who was behind the mysterious notes, not just for his own sake, but for theirs as well.
ੈ♡˳
Enzo sat in his dimly lit dorm room, the silence enveloping him as he carefully laid out the notes he had received over the past weeks. Each one carried a different sentiment, each one bearing the same elegant script that had become so familiar to him.
‘I love you because you always find beauty in the smallest of things, like the way the sun sets or the sound of raindrops.’
‘I love you because you have a smile that could rival a Cheshire cat's, especially when you're up to no good.’
‘I love you because, despite your insistence that you're not a morning person, you somehow manage to be the most entertaining person at breakfast.’
As he sifted through the notes, his mind buzzed with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. The possibility that you could be behind them lingered at the back of his mind, fueled by your defense of him earlier. He couldn't help but feel a surge of hope at the thought.
‘I love you because you inspire me to be a better person every day.’
‘I love you because you listen with both your heart and your ears, making me feel truly heard and understood.’
‘ I love you because, simply put, you're everything I never knew I needed but now can't imagine living without.’
The more he read, the more convinced he became that you were the one behind the notes. The way the sentiments echoed moments they had shared, the way they seemed to capture the essence of your connection—it all seemed too perfect to be mere coincidence.
A surge of warmth flooded through Enzo as he entertained the idea that you could be the one who had been reaching out to him all along. It felt right, somehow, as if everything he had been searching for had been right in front of him all this time.
His fingers traced over the words of each note, lingering on the one that had struck a chord within him:
‘I love you because you make me feel like I'm home, no matter where I am.’
The words echoed in his mind, stirring up memories of your first year at Hogwarts, back when he was in his second year. You had confided in him about feeling overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of it all. He remembered how he had stayed up with you, offering words of reassurance and companionship until you felt more at ease. You had said it felt more like home with him there.
As Enzo reflected on that memory, a realization began to dawn on him. The sentiment expressed in the note mirrored the connection he had felt with you from the very beginning. You had always been a source of comfort and familiarity to him, just as he had been to you.
A flicker of excitement coursed through him. But alongside that excitement, a wave of uncertainty washed over him. What if he was reading too much into it? What if his feelings were leading him astray, clouding his judgment? Also, if it was really you, how would Theo react? He decided that your brother would be a problem to deal with at another time.
Despite his doubts, Enzo couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to explore this further. With a newfound resolve, he reached for a quill and a piece of parchment, his hand trembling slightly with nervous anticipation.
Carefully, he composed a response, his words a reflection of the emotions swirling within him. He poured his heart out onto the page, expressing his gratitude for the notes and his longing to discover the identity of the sender. He finished his letter off with a question: ‘Meet me on the astronomy tower?’
And then, with a steady hand, he folded the parchment and sealed it with wax before tucking it away in his pocket. With a determined look on his face, he made his way to the owlery to send it your way.
ੈ♡˳
As Enzo arrived at the astronomy tower, his heart raced with anticipation. He couldn't shake the nerves that coursed through him as he waited for you, his mind consumed by thoughts of what might come next. Would you show up? Would you admit to being the one behind the notes? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the hope that blossomed within him.
When he heard the soft footsteps approaching, Enzo's heart skipped a beat. He turned to see you standing there, the moonlight casting a soft glow around you, illuminating your features in a way that took his breath away. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air.
Then, with a shy smile, you stepped forward, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of nervousness and determination. "Enzo," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I…you were right. I guess I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought I was being, hm?"
Enzo's heart pounded in his chest as he waited for you to continue, his gaze fixed on yours with unwavering intensity. He could feel the tension building between you, a silent understanding passing between you as you stood there in the quiet of the night.
Finally, you took a deep breath, gathering your courage as you met his gaze head-on. "I... I've been the one sending you the notes," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I couldn't keep it a secret any longer. I just had to let you know, even if you didn’t know it was coming from me. I... I love you, Enzo. I have for a while."
Enzo felt his breath catch in his throat at your confession, his heart soaring with a joy he had never known. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out to cup your face as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
As your lips met, time seemed to stand stil. In that moment, everything else faded away—the doubts, the uncertainties, the fears—all of it washed away by the overwhelming tide of emotion that surged between you. It was as if the entire universe had aligned to bring you together in that moment, your hearts beating in perfect harmony as he gently cupped your face in his hand.
The kiss was soft yet electrifying, igniting a fire within that burned brighter with each passing second. Enzo's touch was gentle yet possessive, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek as he deepened the kiss, pouring all of his love and longing into his touch.
For you, it felt like coming home. In Enzo's arms, you felt safe, cherished, and utterly loved. It was a feeling unlike any other, a sensation that filled you with a sense of completeness that you had never known before.
As you finally pulled away, your breaths mingling in the crisp night air, Enzo's eyes met yours with an intensity that took your breath away. There was a depth to his gaze, a silent promise.
"I love you," Enzo whispered, his voice soft yet filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I love you more than words can express."
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed back at him, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion that swelled within your heart. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "More than anything."
His other hand found the small of your waist, pulling you closer against him as he rested his chin on the top of your head. You felt the small laugh escaping his mouth, his chest vibrating against your forehead as you leaned against him. “Theo is going to kill me, isn’t he?”
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RABU.
yandere!jade leech x (female) reader
cw: yandere, brief nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied murder/death, implied cannibalism, pregnancy, obsession
note - i chatted with @heyyy11 and we discussed noodle shop owner jade!! :D this fic is the result of our thoughts. additionally, it's inspired by maretu's "binomi" and lyrics featured are from mitski's "me and my husband."
i. i steal a few breaths from the world for a minute. and then i’ll be nothing forever. and all of my memories and all of the things i have seen will be gone. with my eyes, with my body, with me.
There’s a pot of perpetual stew sitting on the stove.
It fills the small shop with savory scents, enthralling all who catch its delicious aroma on the air. Your husband of twenty years tends to it every now and then, lifting the lid to stir through its contents with a large wooden spoon. Regulars stop by for a fix of his food and comment much the same thing each time: “That husband of yours sure loves his stew.”
“Oh, he can’t get enough,” you would always reply, giggling at their observations.
You would then scrawl their usual orders in your notepad and they’d give you a knowing look. Still so infatuated even though two decades have passed—aren’t you the sweetest? But you can’t help it. Your husband is everything: affectionate, attentive, a masterful chef…
His forever single twin brother often groused that Jade got all the good fortune. “Y’know, if you’re ever tired of Jade, I’m here for ya,” he’d say, leaning over the counter with a sleazy smirk. “Shrimpy’s free to visit whenever she wants. My arms are always open.”
And Jade would smile tightly at him, brush him away with his broom, all while saying, “I’m afraid the shop’s closed now. You’ll have to come back tomorrow, Floyd.”
He acts in jest. Mostly.
Shortly after your wedding, on your first night as newlyweds, the two of you made a compromise. Jade wanted a family; you weren’t ready to start one. And so, in order to work through this dispute, you came to an agreement: He would be in charge of the prep work for the noodle shop he intended to open—a metaphorical child more than anything. In return, you would take orders and chat with customers. A fair deal, one you thought was attractive in its own right. Jade, ever so patient and understanding, lounged beside you in bed, gesturing towards the ceiling as if attempting to spell out the vision before your very eyes. He spoke so eagerly of his dreams. It warmed your heart.
Naturally, just as passionately, you would support him in his every endeavor.
“What do you think of this name? Rabu Rabu Ramen.”
You rolled over on your side, snuggling closer. You couldn’t snuff the overwhelming elation and tenderness that wrapped itself around you whenever you looked at him. And he was all yours—your husband to love forever, to grow old with, to experience life’s highs and lows together. Your wedding night was just the beginning of what would surely be a riveting romance.
“It’s silly.”
“It’s lovey-dovey.”
“If you like it, I like it.”
“Truly?”
You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Absolutely.”
It wasn’t long before fantasy bled into reality. The both of you found a quaint spot in a quiet neighborhood. It was more hole-in-the-wall than you would’ve liked, but Jade didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes tourists stumbled in, commenting that they would’ve missed it had they not ventured down the narrow path. Jade liked that aspect. It was secretive, peaceful, off the beaten track…
By the end of your first year running the shop, plenty of praise had spread throughout the neighborhood. You learned the locals’ names and faces quickly, committing each to your memory as if there might be an exam later on. They thought you were the cutest, the way you’d take charge of the front while your husband worked diligently in the back. Grandmothers adored you, and they made sure to point out the obvious at every opportunity.
“Omago-san, it’s too quiet in here! You’re still so young. Plenty of time for a family. Tell that husband of yours to get busy!”
You could only offer an awkward smile. “Maybe one day.”
When that ‘one day’ would be, you couldn’t say.
It’s become something of a widely-held belief that Jade can’t make a single bad dish. Everything on the menu is scrumptious. From the homemade noodles to the variety of broths to the additional ingredients, each prepared by Jade’s adroit hand, it’s a feast for the ravenous.
Sometimes customers ask for recommendations, and if you aren’t careful you’ll end up fawning over every dish.
“It’s all so amazing, but I like my ramen with bone broth. My husband makes it better than I do.”
It was true. You couldn’t possibly replicate Jade’s skill in the kitchen. At the very least, when it comes to tea, you’re on an even playing field.
“Just what’s his secret anyway?”
To that question, you could only offer a shrug. “Maybe it’s love?”
Jade told you it was a family recipe—a cherished secret passed through the generations. You thought he’d confess at some point now that you’ve been part of the family for so long, but he’s yet to do so. It hurt at first. You’re married! Family! Jade is smooth about the entire thing, promising to tell you one day, easing all of your worries with sugared sentiments. You’re impatient and oh-so-curious, but you force yourself to wait for his sake.
It must be a special secret.
The pot on the stove is an heirloom. It’s old, yet reliable and sturdy. Jade’s mother gifted it to him in the wake of your engagement. Sometimes you think he treasures it more than anything. He’s always hovering near it, having forbidden you from lifting the lid, lest you unintentionally tamper with whatever it is he’s cooking. It smells hearty like meat stew most days, and according to Jade the process is long.
You linger near the stove. A tiny taste wouldn’t hurt, right? After all, Jade cooks things in excess to cure what appears to be an interminable hunger.
But then someone pokes their head inside the shop, calling out a greeting. You move to the front just as Jade returns from the storage room, carrying a crate of vegetables. That taste will have to wait.
Detective Azul Ashengrotto lowers onto a stool at the counter and heaves an exhausted sigh.
“If it isn’t Azul! What brings you here? Tired of the big city?”
Weary hues flick over your face. He manages a smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, (Name). You’re still as energetic as ever.”
“You know it. Every day’s sunny over here.” You rest your elbows on the counter and hum. “Although it’s been awfully slow today.”
“I envy you.” He lifts his hat off of his head to card a hand through tousled hair. Now that you’re looking at him, he seems to have lost some weight. His face is thinner. His eye sockets appear hollow, heavy with shadows. “They’re running me ragged over there. Too many cases. Not enough answers.”
“You ought to take better care of your health.”
“I am—will. I plan to as soon as I wrap up this current case.”
“What’s it about? If you can tell me, that is.”
“A young man went missing near the port. They think he might’ve fallen in and drowned. His wallet was brought up from the seabed, but they haven’t recovered his body yet.”
“How unfortunate… I’m sure his family’s distraught.”
Azul drags a hand down his face and sighs again. “A mess.”
“My, my. It’s been some time since I’ve heard that familiar sigh.”
Lowering his arm, Azul fixes him with a sardonic grin. “How kind of you to join us. I was starting to wonder where you were hiding.”
Jade hums and adjusts his bandana. “Forever confined to the kitchen. My wife is eating for two now.”
A minute ticks by before the realization flashes on Azul’s face. He looks between the both of you, stunned.
“Oh, you’ve—wow. I wasn’t expecting… Ahem. Congratulations.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s talking about his stomach. I’m not pregnant.”
Azul’s countenance shifts through a catalogue of emotions before landing on a scowl. “To think I actually believed you for a moment. I rescind my congratulations.”
“My poor hara, endlessly empty without your sweet sentiments to fill it.”
“And my hara is telling me that you’re going to starve our guest if you keep being silly.” Clicking your tongue at him, you turn your much softer stare on Azul. “The usual, right?”
“Oh, thank you, but I ate before I came. I only intended to stop in and say hello since I was in the area. I really should be leaving now that—”
“Nonsense! You’re already here and Jade has nothing better to do. You should go back on a full stomach.”
“Indeed. A delicious bowl of tonkotsu ramen has your name on it,” Jade adds from his place in the kitchen. “And I do so love busying these idle hands of mine. Should they remain idle, I fear the devil may just find work for them…”
“I really shouldn’t…”
“You look so withered, Zuzu. You’ll feel better after a hot meal. I promise!”
The platonic affection twined through the nickname catches him by surprise. Huffing, his cheeks colored pink, he stuffs his hat on his head to veil the darkening blush. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”
“Yay!” You clap your hands together. “I’ll get started on tea.”
You weren’t going to give him much of a choice. Azul probably knows this by now, well-acquainted with your proclivity to play caretaker.
“This winter is particularly brutal,” he comments after you’ve fetched him a cup. It’s more of a change in subject than an observation. He shudders and burrows further into the warmth provided by his coat. “The worst time to die.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Winter is full of mistakes. Drunken mishaps at night, in which the victim slips on ice and falls into the sea… Sometimes we miss them, and so they aren’t found or retrieved until they start to float to the surface after everything thaws. I can’t begin to imagine how painful that must be—to not know where your loved one has disappeared to, only to find them just as the winter frost melts away to usher in spring.”
“Oh, that’s horrible!” You set the kettle down, and Azul watches steamy tendrils curl up towards the ceiling. “Does it ever scare you—the things you find?”
“I’ve seen so much it’s difficult to know what real fear even is.”
“Ah.” You glance over your shoulder at Jade as he opens the lid on the pot of stew. Your eyes drift over towards Azul once more. “You work hard. You deserve a break after your next case.”
“I could sleep forever when that day comes.”
“Retirement isn’t too far, is it, Ojiisan?”
Azul chokes around his breath. “Do I really look so old? Oh, my heart… If these sleepless nights don’t kill me, that assumption certainly will.”
You giggle. “Sorry, sorry. I meant to say you look as spry as ever.”
“You’re too happy to hammer nails into my coffin.”
“I do it with love. It’s our secret ingredient, you know!”
“So I’ve heard.”
The rest of your conversation stalls out. You wipe the counter with a fresh rag in hopes of giving yourself something to do while Azul reads through the newspaper and sips at his tea. You watch him in your peripheral vision. Is he taking care of himself? It doesn’t look like it, but you’ve known Azul long enough to be familiar with his level of responsible efficiency. Maybe this particular case has him in the trenches.
Just how hard are they working him over there?
As his friend you worry. In fact, you worry yourself sick. Every time he visits he’s in poor shape. Though he masks it with confidence, you can see the toll life is taking on him.
“Have you ever wanted to get married, Azul?”
“If I find the right person, sure.”
“But?”
“But, seeing as that has yet to happen, I have no interest in pursuing something that might waste my time and money. Emotions are exhausting, even more so when invested in something like romance. It’s better to put them towards something that will yield solid results. Like work, for example.”
“That outlook is so frigid! Don’t you wanna fall in love?”
“Love isn’t going to crack these cases,” he grumbles at the paper.
Jade appears at the little window cut into the wall. “Someone sounds like a love killer.”
“I’m only being realistic.” Azul scoffs. “Besides, you have no right to speak as a married man.”
“Envy is a wicked vice. I’ll gladly help you overcome it.”
You take the bowl of tonkotsu ramen from Jade and set it in front of Azul. “Okay, enough of that. Let him enjoy his meal in peace.”
“But I haven’t yet had my fill of fun.”
You reach through the horizontal window to gently tug on Jade’s ear. He rumbles with laughter. “Don’t bully the guests.”
“Why, I would never, my dearest.”
Azul watches this back-and-forth with a forlorn longing in his pale blues. Wordlessly, he sinks his soup spoon into the broth and lifts the noodles between his chopsticks. He eats with such zest it makes you wonder if this is his first meal of the day. Sensing your stare, he attempts to pace himself.
You smile sadly. He looks like he needs this.
“As always, it’s delicious,” he says once he’s made a sizable dent in the portion.
Jade basks in the praise. “I’m pleased you enjoy it.”
“But… Well.” The ghost of a frown settles on his weathered features. “The broth tastes different. You must’ve used a new seasoning. Or perhaps this is an expensive cut of pork? Whatever it is, it’s different. Not bad, mind you. I’m sure if it were anyone else it would’ve been difficult to catch.”
“Is this the impressive power of Detective Ashengrotto’s taste buds at work?” you joke, to which Azul flashes you a proud grin that’s more teeth than lip.
“Well, I have been using ingredients with better qualities as of late… I’m not very fond of serving cheap products to honored guests.”
“Isn’t my Jade so considerate? He’s too cute.” You stand up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “He even grows some of the vegetables himself. Green onions and mushrooms and the like.”
“Ah, of course. How could I forget that dubious green thumb of yours?” Azul muses, recalling the time in which Jade served him a new dish in exchange for valid critique. He had conveniently neglected to inform Azul that it contained mushrooms, something he has eaten plenty of in the time that he’s known you and Jade. So many that all varieties have been spoiled for him. “In any case, what’s the secret ingredient? Imported pork? Some sort of flavor that’s seeped in when left to simmer? No, not that… It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t place it!”
Jade chuckles. “There is no secret. It’s just love.”
Azul pokes around the bowl with his chopsticks, his eyes narrowed with an intense scrutiny. “I can recognize every other flavor. The meat, the green onions, the egg, the noodles… And I can parse the broth well enough. There’s just something else—a hint of something I’ve never tasted before. This profile is missing from my gastronomic lexicon.”
You tilt your head, puzzled. “Well, it’s the same broth, isn’t it?”
The both of you turn to Jade for his input. He nods. “My recipe and method haven’t changed.”
“So it’s still the same as before?” Azul’s nose wrinkles. “Strange. I was certain there was a taste of something more…”
Before he can dwell on it any longer, the radio at his hip crackles to life: “Sir, you’re needed at the port. We’ve got something you should see. Over.”
Azul detaches it from his belt and lifts it to his mouth. “I’ll be there soon. Don’t touch anything if you can help it. Out.” Releasing the button, he deflates briefly and then addresses you and Jade next. “It was wonderful seeing you again, but I’m afraid I must cut my visit short.”
“Then we won’t keep you.”
He moves to pull money from his wallet, but you stop him.
“On the house. You deserve it.”
Despite your generous offer, he still places the exact amount on the counter. “You won’t make profit if you’re giving food away for free.”
“Wha—but you’re a friend!”
“That makes it even worse. It’s not very fair to favor me to this extent.”
“Azuuul, don’t be so stubborn! You did this last time, too.”
“I surmise it will be much the same next time he graces us with his presence,” Jade says, eyeing you sympathetically.
“Ugh. Really… If you won’t let us treat you, at least promise you’ll take better care of yourself. No more skipping meals. Get a full eight hours. Prioritize yourself, too, okay?”
Azul starts for the door, so you miss the way he flusters up to his ears. They’re all very valid concerns, of course, but then he’s never been able to swallow the embarrassment that accompanies being unduly fussed over.
“I’ll do what I can,” he says instead and steps outside into the snowy afternoon.
You fold your arms over your chest and huff noisily. “What are we going to do with him? He’s in bad health and he still insists on being difficult. Must he faint before he realizes it?”
Jade emerges from the kitchen, sliding easily behind the counter where you stand. An amused glint shimmers in two-toned eyes. “I suppose we can only hope he’ll fix his bad habits sooner rather than later.”
“If only there were two of me… That way one could tend to the shop alongside you and the other could help him with his work.”
Jade embraces you firmly. With a giggle, you crane your neck to look at him.
“Two is much too troublesome.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have you all to myself.” His lips curve into a practiced pout. “What if (Name) Number Two finds Detective Ashengrotto more desirable than her own husband?”
You reach up to pinch his cheek in light scolding. “You know that would never happen.”
“It’s a possibility.”
“I would never. If I did, that wouldn’t be the real me. I love you too much.” You twirl out of his arms to collect the dirty dishes. “Hey, since he’s no longer here, what was really in Azul’s ramen?”
“I haven’t the faintest inkling, my dear. I used the same ingredients I always do. Perhaps he was tasting something that wasn’t actually there?”
“Maybe… He looked pretty tired, Jade.” You peer at your reflection in the broth. “I wonder if he’ll be okay.”
“I’m sure he will.” Jade follows you into the tiny, compact kitchen. “You do know his penchant for smoking has worsened. I fear his sense of taste may be compromised from so many cigarettes. That, and age. Oh, but these are merely my own theories. He might have caught flavors of a love he’s never known before on those ruined taste buds of his.”
“Ah, right. Because everything you make is filled with love.”
“Not everything. There’s still something I’ve yet to fill with my love.”
He presses himself against you, his hands settling on your waist. You roll your eyes at his very obvious flirting.
“I’m assuming that something is actually a someone?”
“Indeed. And she’s standing right in front of me.”
His arms snake around your front so that you’re effectively trapped between him and the countertop. His hands close around your breasts to grope you through your shirt. You shiver against him when his fingers brush against the precise area of where your nipples are. It’s when he pinches both between his thumb and index that you finally shut the faucet off, surrendering to his touch instead of the dishes piled in the basin.
“At least close the front. What if someone walks in?”
“Unlikely,” he murmurs, his lips hot on your neck. His fingers slip under your shirt to undo the clasp of your bra. “It’s slow today. We can manage.”
You brace yourself at the sink and gasp when he grinds against your ass. “T-Ten minutes.”
“Only ten?”
“Would you prefer five? Your mouth is so smart today.”
“My love, I need only seconds to unravel you. You’re quite easy.”
You bark out a sharp laugh. “I’m not the one with the hard-on, my darling.”
“You’re too alluring, even in uniform. So beautiful, always and forever, my sweet wife.”
“Flattery isn’t going to get you out of dirty dish duty.”
“How cold… You rival the snow outside.”
You shift slightly to face him, offering him an impish grin. “I’d hate for my Jade to freeze. Let’s warm up together, all right?”
You don’t have to tell him twice.
And all the while, your voices filling the kitchen in unison, bodies pressed close, the pot continues to simmer on the stove.
ii. and i am the idiot with the painted face. in the corner, taking up space. but when he walks in, i am loved, i am loved.
“Can I ask you something, Floyd?”
“What’s up?” he answers around a mouthful of udon. A few strands hang out from between his lips, and he slurps them up in a motion so fluid it leaves you impressed. As for the mess he makes… Not so much.
“What’s the secret thing that’s been passed through your family?”
Floyd blinks at you, lost. “The secret thing?”
“It’s some ingredient or flavor or…whatever that Jade says is a family secret. I have no idea what it is. He won’t tell me no matter how many times I ask.”
“Ohhh, you’re talkin’ about Mama’s pot, right? That thing’s been in our family forever. She gave it to Jade cuz I didn’t want it.” Floyd points with his chopsticks, playfully accusatory. “What? You into cookware now? I can getcha somethin’ if ya want.”
“What’s this about cookware?” Jade asks, poking his head inside. He looks warm and comfortable in his nagagi and haori, a pleasant sight for your eyes, but the broom clutched in his hands tells a threatening tale.
Ignoring the fact that he so clearly eavesdropped, you wave him forwards so that you can straighten his scarf. Jade props the broom against the doorway before striding closer. He leans into your touch with a smug smile, which is shamelessly directed at his brother.
“Oh, you’re freezing! Let me fix you a cup of tea. You’ll catch your death if you spend any longer sweeping out there.”
“Thank you, my dear. I fear the chill is rather paralyzing…”
Floyd rolls his eyes. “He’s fine. Nothin’ he can’t handle.”
“I might just die.”
His dramatics don’t faze Floyd, but they do draw a chuckle from you. “We can’t have that.” You duck into the kitchen and return minutes later with a warm cup of chai. “Floyd was just telling me about your mother’s pot.”
“Was he now?”
“Only cuz Shrimpy asked.”
Jade blows at the steamy beverage to cool it before bringing it to his lips for a sampling. He hums his approval. “It’s quite special.”
Floyd slumps against the counter. “Whatever. It’s boring!”
“I suppose there isn’t much to discuss regarding an old pot.”
“Nothing we haven’t already mentioned.”
“Speaking of that… You thinkin’ about closin’ up the shop for the holidays? Pops’s been on my ass. He and Mama want you to visit.”
Jade gazes at you, but you’re already looking at him. “Should we?” you ask. “I’m not opposed. I just know you like running things here.”
“Not like you’re gonna get crazy business on Christmas.”
“No, but there are a fair amount of regulars who might stop by.”
“We should visit your parents, Jade. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, listen to Shrimpy. Mama’s been missin’ ya.” Floyd shovels more noodles in his mouth. “And afterwards we can all do somethin’ fun on New Year’s Eve.”
“That sounds great! Let’s do it!”
“S’no fun spendin’ the holidays workin’ yourself into the ground.”
“Exactly. Your brother makes a good point. What do you say, Jade? We’ll make the trip to see your parents and then come back in time for New Year’s Eve.”
Jade smiles, approving of the idea. “In that case, I should call Mother so she knows when to expect us.” Taking a final sip from his tea, he rises from his seat and disappears into the kitchen. Seconds later, you hear soft footfalls on the floor above.
“You really don’t know?”
Floyd shrugs. “No idea. The only thing that kinda fits the whole secret ingredient vibe is Mama’s pot. That’s been passed through the family. Other than that? I’ve got nothing.”
“Well… Yeah, that’s true. Maybe it really is nothing.”
Floyd laughs. “This sure means a lot to ya.”
“Of course it does! We’ve been married for two decades and I still don’t know what this ‘family secret’ is. Decades, Floyd! Surely he would’ve told me by now.”
“Is it really that important?”
“It is to me.” You gaze sidelong at the broom and inhale a steadying breath. “It feels like I’m not a part of the family if he won’t tell me something as simple as this. You’d think twenty years qualifies you as—”
“Hey, you’re always gonna be family to me.” Floyd’s hand reaches to cover yours. He hesitates and instead grabs another napkin. “Jade’s just bein’ a hard-ass. Gets it from our old man.”
“Do you think this ‘family secret’ is real?”
“Who knows? I’m sure he’ll fess up once he gets tired of playing this game.”
“Yeah, that sounds like my Jade. He’s really too much sometimes.” You shake your head and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, though. That part about me being family. It… It means a lot.”
“It’s the truth.” Floyd sets his chopsticks and chirirenge down, lifting the bowl to drink what’s left of the broth. He whistles, supremely satisfied, and slouches on the stool. “You ever need anything—doesn’t matter what it is or how much trouble you think it might be—just gimme a call. I’ll be there to help.”
“Thanks. A-Again. Truly.”
Floyd flashes you a toothy smile. “Don’t mention it.”
You collect his bowl, intending to bring it to the sink, but Floyd’s next words stop you in your tracks.
“Hey, Jade’s got that pot on, yeah?”
“The pot? Oh, yes, the pot! What about it?”
“Has it been stirred lately? You gotta do that once in a while, right?”
Your nerves, which had previously been pulled taut, smooth out. He’s referring to cooking. Nothing else. Just cooking.
“I’ll do that. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Mhm! Smells yummy, by the way.”
“Doesn’t it? Jade’s food is amazing.”
“Mine’s pretty killer, too. You gotta come over and try some.”
“If you’re cooking for me, you’ll have to cook for Jade as well.” You giggle to yourself as you cross into the kitchen, only for the laughter to stick in your throat.
Jade stands at the stove. He lowers the lid onto the pot and sets the wooden spoon aside. He was so quiet you hardly noticed him. How long has he been there? When did he return from upstairs?
“Oh, good timing! Floyd and I were just saying the pot needed to be stirred.”
Jade smiles and takes Floyd’s empty bowl from you. “Did we all have a collective thought just now?”
“Ooh, like telepathy?”
“Wouldn’t that be shocking? Three-way telepathy.”
You watch Jade set the bowl beside the others in need of washing. “That would be so noisy! Three times as many thoughts… I wouldn’t be able to hear myself think.”
“It’d be like watchin’ a show about the two of you,” Floyd pipes up from the front.
“Thankfully, that will never happen.” Jade guides you back out. You peer over your shoulder at the pot. “What a relief our minds aren’t connected. I don’t think I’d enjoy a stray listening in on our private affairs.”
You slap his arm gently. “Floyd’s not a stray!”
“Might as well be since it feels like he’s kickin’ me to the curb. So mean.”
“Not at all. I’m just making a distinction clear.” Jade’s smile is razored, his words catty. “You’re always welcome to visit so long as you keep your hands to yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hands off the Shrimpy. I gotcha.” Floyd pops up from his seat and stretches. It seems as if all of Jade’s remarks, each born from petty possessiveness, roll off his shoulders. “I’m not gonna steal her from you if that’s what’s got you so worked up.”
“You couldn’t even if you tried.”
Floyd’s once easygoing expression sours. “You’re beggin’ for cement shoes, ain’tcha?”
Jade feigns offense, placing his hands over your ears even though it’s a pointless gesture. “For my own blood to threaten me in front of my sweet pearl… It brings tears to my eyes.”
“All right, all right! I’m goin.’ Geez.” Floyd struts out the door, not wanting to be manually shooed out by Jade and his beloved broom. “And don’t forget about New Year’s Eve!”
You wave farewell until he’s vanished out of sight. Only then do you turn to address your husband. “You ought to be nicer to him. He’s your brother.”
“I was. Very nice, in fact.”
“Really? How?”
“I didn’t charge him for the meal.”
iii. me and my husband, we’re doing better. it’s always been just him and me together. so i bet all i have on that furrowed brow. and at least in this lifetime we’re sticking together. me and my husband, we’re sticking together.
Everyone thought the odds were significantly slimmer than that of younger women—impossible by your standards—but somehow you’re pregnant at forty-four. You suspected it when you missed your period and then, just days prior, woke up with a terrible bout of morning sickness.
Standing in the bathroom, staring at the positive test like it’s a relic from Atlantis, you pinch yourself. Hard. It stings, and with this your disbelief mellows into something astonished.
Pregnant. You’re pregnant.
And this time you’re ready for a family. You’re ready to raise a child. Somewhat. Amidst every positive emotion there's anxiety and fear, and they reign so tyrannical that you almost forget you’re meant to be excited. Tamping down insecurity, you turn the test over in your hands.
I’ve got to tell Jade.
But before that you think back on the timeline in an effort to pinpoint the fateful day. After mapping it out for a brief while, you arrive at what’s possibly the least romantic way to conceive a child. Going at it raw and reckless in the kitchen, bent over a sink filled with dirty dishes and pressed against the wall… At least it was in a place both of you treasure.
Not the worst place, you think. I guess it doesn’t have to be a typical rose-petals-on-the-floor situation.
You’re practically vibrating out of your skin when you tiptoe out of the bathroom. Jade’s already downstairs. You can hear him humming as he works to open the shop. Hastily, you change into your work clothes and stuff the test in your pocket.
Jade’s notorious for his surprises, but it’s never been easy to return the favor. You mull over this facet of his character as you skip down the stairs. How can you shock him with this good news when he makes it so difficult? It’s as if he’s always two steps ahead, expecting the unexpected before it can even happen.
Jade brightens when you walk into the kitchen. He meets you halfway, lifting your hand to his lips. “Good morning. How did you sleep, my pearl?”
You squeeze his hand. “Like the dead.”
He chuckles. “I’m pleased it was so restful.”
You glance at the pot then and an idea sprouts. “Is there anything else that needs to get done? Is the front opened?”
“Just about. I need to prep a few more things here and then—”
“I can do it! It’s just stocking up on what’s low, right? That’s not very hard.”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” You claim the spot he had once been standing in. He was in the process of filling a container with chopped green onions before you came down. “Go on and open the front. I’ve got things handled here.”
“I do so adore you.”
“I adore you more.”
“I adore you most.” He beams and stalks off through the doorway.
Now left to your own devices, you move to the sink and turn on the water to wash your hands. If all goes according to plan, you’ll open the lid, pretend something’s wrong with its contents, and when Jade comes over to investigate you’ll act as if you’ve pulled the positive test from the pot. It’s a harmless surprise. You’re sure he won’t be expecting it, especially since he’s the one who does all of the cooking.
After confirming Jade’s still busy with the front, you creep over to the stove. That infamous pot awaits. You slide your hand into an oven mitt and grab hold of the lid, lifting it slowly. You’re immediately hit with the delicious scent of bone broth, so fragrant it almost has you salivating.
Focus! I can eat after the big reveal.
You open your mouth to call Jade over and then pause.
Has he stirred it yet? It looks a little… No, it’s definitely murky. Is bone broth supposed to be this dark? Maybe I just need to stir it.
You lower the wooden spoon into the broth and, scraping along the sides and bottom, mix expertly. The bones knock into each other from the disturbance, and you inhale deeply. It reminds you of the tonkotsu ramen Azul fancies so much. You could go for a bowl right now.
You’re about to take the spoon out and cover the pot when something floats to the surface. Without meaning to, you recall Azul’s words from last month: Sometimes we miss them, and so they aren’t found or retrieved until they start to float to the surface after everything thaws. Curiously, you scoop the object up onto the spoon. Broth spills over into the pot and then you see it.
A finger.
A human finger.
What the fuck is a finger doing in Jade’s pot?
The nail has been plucked off and the skin is sagging away, turned to pliable mush from sitting in the pot for so long, but it is undoubtedly a finger.
A very real, very human finger.
Bile slithers up your throat with thick, acidic fingers.
Fingers.
There’s another one and then another. Three fingers. You poke around in the broth, dreading what else you might see. You don’t want to find a full set of ten. Anything but that. You count five and that’s all you can stomach before you’re shakily covering the pot with the lid. You set the spoon and oven mitt down next, your mind reeling.
You want to vomit.
You’re about to vomit.
You’re going to—
“(Name)?”
You whirl to look at him. Your husband. He stands in the doorway, a dark look on his face. You can’t describe the emotion, or lack thereof. It’s more of a shadow. An oppressive shadow. An intimidating shadow. A shadow that seems to say: You’ve seen too much.
“J-Jade!” How long has he been standing there? How much does he know? “Sorry. I… I felt sick just now. I think I should…rest a bit more.”
The gloom fades away into perfect placidity. “My, my. That’s not good.” He takes a step towards you and pauses when you jerk away. “Is everything all right?”
“Y-Yes, of course! I’m just…not feeling it today…or something.”
“I suppose it can’t be helped.” His eyes slide towards the stovetop. “I do so dislike getting into disagreements with you. So to avoid that I’ll ask once and only once. What did you see in the pot?”
Your spine stiffens, straight and still as a board, and you hang your head guiltily. “I… I’m sorry. I saw… W-Well, I don’t want to believe it. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding or a mistake of some kind. It’s just that—um… I… I saw…”
Fingers. Human fingers!
“I saw what I think is y-your secret ingredient. The thing—” your voice cracks, and you swallow thickly to push rising bile back— “Azul tasted that day…”
“And that secret ingredient is…”
Tears brim and spill over in silent, horror-struck waterfalls. You risk a glance at your husband, and a wobbly smile pulls your lips apart.
“Love.”
#yandere twst#yandere twst x reader#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere jade leech#yandere jade leech x reader#yandere jade#yandere jade x reader
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lacy - mv1
max verstappen x fem!driver!reader
summary yn can't keep hiding her true feelings towards max
wc 1,6 k (i was supposed to keep it short for this one but oh well)
warnings this one angsty as fuuuck, reader kinda sucks sorry
a/n first post of this series omg i'm so excited!!!!!! i haven't written in a while so this may not be the best of my works but this is still one of my favorites <33 also english is not my first language so...yeah
YN sighed as she pulled the balaclava off and immediately ran her hand through her sweaty hair, attempting to make it look decent. Once again she was finishing behind Max. The Dutch looked back at her as he got down from the top of his car and gave her a sweet smile, she tried her best to reciprocate that smile but it probably looked as fake as it felt.
She couldn't really pinpoint when her rotten mind had started to harbor these feelings towards the man she loved.
YN's first encounter with Max occurred when they were barely teenagers, amid the noisy circuits of karting competitions. There was something captivating in that lanky and slightly awkward teenager that drew YN to him like a magnet. As time went on, their bond deepened, among endless talks of shared dreams that seemed unreachable at the time.
The first time Max kissed YN, she felt in heaven, enveloped in a kind of excitement she had never known. It didn't take long before he asked her to be his girlfriend and she accepted thinking life couldn't get better than that.
The mutual decision to keep their relationship under wraps seemed obvious, a conscious choice made as they started their parallel journeys into Formula 1, that was not the kind of attention they were seeking.
She felt true happiness for Max's overwhelming success, she truly did, at least at the beginning.
But YN found herself caught in the shadow of his success, a place she hadn't anticipated occupying. Eventually every podium celebration and victory lap, served as a bitter reminder of the expectations she was failing to meet. She couldn't acknowledge these feelings so she masked this resentment beneath a facade of congratulatory smiles and kisses. The press was no help. They endlessly compared their careers and although YN had managed to get some satisfying results, she was nowhere near Max's level. They ate it up, it gave them good headlines to pit them against the other. They were the embodiment of a tantalizing narrative – two very young drivers with great success in the lower categories, shared dreams and a seemingly unbreakable "friendship", both coming into F1 with good teams and high expectations but only one of them was reaching those expectations. It was a good story, sure. But the story was tearing YN apart.
Perhaps the tipping point arrived with a very specific headline, its words forever etched into her brain: "Max Verstappen: Vettel reincarnate." With each syllable, YN's throat constricted, her stomach twisting into knots. Max seemed to effortlessly get everything she ever yearned for, now he was getting put at the same level as her biggest idol and inspiration which proved to be too much to handle for her. And with each of his accomplishments the poisonous seed of envy took root within her heart.
It was so contradictory, when she finally admitted it to herself. She loved Max more than she loved herself and maybe that was the root of the problem, her own insecurities and bruised ego. But it was becoming impossible to fake a smile every time she saw him on that top step. She knew it wasn't true but she almost felt like Max was out to get her.
She hated Max. And she hated herself for that fact. How could one harbor so much love and hatred for someone at the same time?
She was loosing her mind, her fragile facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. Of course the ever attentive eyes of the press and the fans noticed the way her once adoring glances towards Max were now replaced with icy stares. How she couldn't even make the effort to raise the corners of her mouth whenever Max complimented her skills or her racing. His tenders words of admiration which once felt like a warm summer breeze began to feel like bullets grazing her already wounded skin, they felt like mockery. It was only a matter of time until Max started noticing this too.
Something was clearly happening, and that's why he found himself knocking on her apartment's door late at night, the echoes of the particularly hard weekend YN had endured still reverberating through his mind. The bitter taste of failure and disappointment still lingered on her lips. YN had struggled with the car and couldn't even make it out of Q3, and Sunday's race offered little reprieve, finishing in a P11 that tasted of unfulfilled expectations. While, of course, Max had made a brilliant pole position and had won the race, once again making everyone worship the ground he walked on. He hadn't seen YN since the race finished. She flew back to Mónaco that same night without even letting him know and without even asking if he wanted to fly back with her, which was the case almost every weekend. Max wasn't stupid, he could tell something was up with her lately, the distance she was putting between them, he was loosing her. And he loved her too much to let her go without a fight.
The door creaked open, YN's figure against the dim lighting within. Her jealous eyes clouded with heavy feelings. She stepped aside wordlessly, allowing Max to enter, her silence was louder that any word could ever be.
He carefully walked in, the all too familiar environment of his girlfriend's apartment suddenly feeling cold and foreign. Max was tense before taking a seat on the armrest of her couch. His heart felt heavy, he already wanted to cry. He had trouble getting the words out, something that had never happened in the years he had known YN. What had they become?
He swallowed dry before finally finding his voice. "I think we need to have a talk." His gaze was pleading for her to meet his eyes, but she kept staring at her shoes.
She froze at his words and her fingers tightened around the edge of the table she was leaning against. She could tell this conversation was coming, yet she dreaded the flood of emotions threatening to consume her, scared of the things she could say.
"What is it, Max?" Her voice was strained, an inner battle developing inside her, trying to control her emotions.
"You know what it is about, schat." Her jaw tightened at the pet name, now it somehow sounded condescending, even though deep down she knew that wasn't true. "YN something's been bothering you lately. I know it. Please talk to me."
YN's heart clenched painfully at his words, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her own inner turmoil. How could she even begin to articulate the burning envy and resentment that coursed through her veins every time she looked at him? How could she admit out loud to hating the man she loved more than life itself?
When she finally looked up and met his stare she felt the monstrous feeling that had been gnawing at her conscience completely engulf her and she wasn't in control of her own words anymore. Her eyes burning with a contradictory mix of longing and loathing. "Are you seriously asking me that, Max?" Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion.
Max recoiled at the intensity of her stare and her tone, a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach by the anticipatory feeling of his world crumbling down completely. "YN, I..."
"You know damn well what's going on." YN's voice cracked with emotion, her words laced with a bitterness that made it unrecognizable to both of them. "You have everything, Max. The wins, the championships, the adoration of the whole fucking world. Everything I ever wanted, you took it for yourself." She knew she wasn't making sense, the words were spilling out of her mouth before she had the time to catch them.
Max's heart constricted with an unfair amount of guilt. "YN, I... I had no idea you felt this way."
"And why would you?" She retorted, her voice rising with each word. "You're too busy basking in your own glory to notice how much it's killing me to be constantly compared to you." That wasn't his fault, and she knew it. It was the pure and evil hatred that consumed her that was speaking those words.
He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "I'm sorry." He shouldn't have to apologize for what he accomplished after years and years of hard work, yet he did, the fear of loosing her bigger than the need to acknowledge his self worth.
The hurt mirroring in his eyes was obvious, her tone softened before she spoke again. "You don't have to apologize, Max. You deserve it, you deserve it so much. I know that and you should too." She took a sharp breath in. "But knowing that doesn't change how I feel. I...I hate you."
He looked at her, stunned. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.
"I do. I hate you Max. I hate you for being able to get everything I've only ever dared to dream of." She couldn't believe she was admitting it to Max's face, breaking the heart of the man she claimed to love.
Max felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under him, the sting of her words cutting deeper than any wound ever could. "I can't believe you're saying this," he mumbled, his voice chocked.
"I wish I didn't have to Max but I can't bear to keep lying to your face. I wish I could just pretend like everything's okay, like I'm still happy for you. But I can't, I'm sorry." YN's voice cracked with the weight of her confession, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him with a strange mix of love and loathing. "I love you too much to keep lying to you."
The silence was sepulcral, years and years of shared moments full of love completely destroyed by the sick envy that had infected YN.
But the truth is, their love was doomed from the beginning.
#f1 fanfic#formula 1#f1#f1 x reader#fanfiction#max verstappen#redbull racing#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen angst#mv1#max verstappen 1#f1 fic#motorsports#max verstappen fanfiction#mv33#mv33 x reader#mv1 x reader#max verstappen 33
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This has been rattling in my mind for a minute and i need to scream about it.
The significance of the item display of the backpacks and how much that defines the QSMP characters.
If you dont know, Leo found out you can display an item in your backpack and show it off. Kinda like a little charm or a keychain. Ever since then, a bunch of people have been displaying items.
Lets start off with the trend setter.
Leo:
Her item is a totem. Obviously this is about Foolish. She spends the most time with Foolish and adores him. They are super close and are super similar. Another reason could be showing off her wealth. Also, a joke that she is immortal (she isnt) and its a bit of a hint to that.
Foolish:
His item is the player head that Leo always wears. Obviously, like Leo, it represents how much he loves Leo and the time they spent together. It also looks like Leo is in his backpack and showing that they are always together (Siempre juntos) no matter what.
Philza:
His item is a skull you can wear on your head. Now theres a lot to interpet here. The obvious one is that this represents Missa. Either that he always chooses Missa or that Missa is with him and Chayanne even if hes away. Again theres a lot to talk about.
Another reason is that death isnt scary for him / death is always there. Philza in general is associated with death (his irl wife's lore is being the goddess of death). With his son on one life for so long and now his granddaughter, he has come to terms with death. He isnt scared of the Code Monster. He will fight until the death no matter what.
Tallulah:
Her item is a poppy. I believe she gives poppies to people she meets for the first time. For me, it represents her innocence. In the way she views the world and how the world views her. Everyone sees her as a sweet girl and is super kind. Majority, if not everyone, always loves her. For her, she always views the world with love. She is told by Wilbur and Phil that her kindness and love is necessary. In a world full of terror and fear, there needs to be love and gentleness
Chayanne:
His item is a potato. For anyone who doesnt know, Chayanne is deeply inspired by Techoblade. Technoblade is known for being a incredible warrior and a great Potato farmer. Please look up his videos. Philza told Chayanne about Techno and again is deeply inspired by him. The potato is a reminder of Chayanne's goals. To help everyone and to protect everyone.
Richarlyson:
His item is a heart container, one used to get an extra heart of health. I have so many emotions about this. I think the main one is that Richarlyson is the heart of the Brazilians / Favela Five. He is the core, for better or for worse. He always loves all his dads. Even recently with how scary everything is, he still loves and trusts his dads.
Forever:
His item is a Nether star. I honestly feel like this defines his character so well. An item that takes a lot of time, resources, and strength to get. Forever has put in that time and effort. His strength shines in his armor and how persistent he is. Also, the nether star is needed to make the highest level of the block reinforcer. Its needed to make everything safe. Forever has shown that over and over again. He wants to make everything safe.
(Update, Richarlyson changed his to a nether star so him and Forever are matching!)
Cellbit:
His item is the universal block remover. I dont know how recent this change is, but I noticed it when he was in his federation office. Just like Forever, this defines his character so well. He is there to break something, either the Enigma or the Federation. He is trying to get inside.
BadBoyHalo:
His item is a Scythe. For anyone who doesnt know, Bad said he is the grim reaper. Either coming to people to remind them to drink water or that he helps guide people to the afterlife. A lot of people thinks that why he cares so much about the eggs. He is the one to transport them to the afterlife.
Mike:
As im making this post, Tazercraft went live and I noticed Mike has a red block in his item display. I dont know a lot of Tazercraft/ Mike's lore. I do know that in tazercraft's game of hide and seek, a red block is represented to show who is the seeker/killer. Maybe it relates to that?
This is everyone I can think of off the top of my head. Theres probably more people who have it, but yeah.
#qsmp#qsmp philza#qsmp forever#qsmp badboyhalo#qsmp cellbit#qsmp chayanne#qsmp foolish#qsmp leonarda#qsmp richarlyson#qsmp mike#qsmp tazercraft#qsmp tallulah
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Wrong for me - Charles Leclerc
📷 @/nicolo.furicchia
pairing: charles leclerc x fem! f1 related! reader (the reader is a tp's daughter, I wrote with Toto in mind but there's no names)
song: Angels - Miley Cyrus
warnings: angsty but happy-ish ending
wordcount: 1k
a/n: Bit of a short one but it is my first time writing for Charles, so would you guys give some feedback? Also I'm thinking of opening up requests for drivers x readers with songs inspirations, I actually really like to take songs as inspirations
I know that you’re wrong for me, gonna wish we never met on the day I leave
It was everything your father had warned you not to do, yet it was everything you’ve thought about ever since he walked through the f1 paddock back in 2018. You knew he was wrong for you, but the very thought of each other consumed every inch of logical judgment in both of you. He had a couple of girlfriends since, they were all nice and polite, you tried to stay away but it didn’t make much of a difference. Their official reason for the break ups were the hardships of dating a driver, but he would tell you sometime later some of the exact words he heard were “Why am I always so sure your mind is on her?”.
A puppy love that had burned bright for a little over 6 months when you were still 16 but somehow had managed to quietly find its way through to today. Only this time the flame had threatened to burn not only your hearts but the entirety of his and your father’s team. The tension between the two of you had always been evident to those who knew what had happened back then, but as the 2024 season went further it was more than obvious to anyone with eyes that there was something there. Feelings and desire neither of you would dare to act upon and that would further build an atmosphere that could be felt and cut with a knife, making you wish every day you had never met.
When you finally realized you had the same effect he did on you, hurting him was how you protected yourself from giving in to the urge to fall head first into a love that you believed would not be able to thrive. So as his relationships crumbled down to their inevitable ends, you embarked in a string of meaningless flings in search of someone that would take your mind off of the one thing that you truly wanted.
Bringing him down to his knees with every ghosting you’d purposely inflict him, finding some unimportant meeting to attend instead of where you said you’d be, all the while excitedly celebrating his first win, birthday or even little achievements, moments of weakness you’d let your true emotions surface, only to shut him out right after, pledging to not drag him down the rabbit hole that was your blinding infatuation, with what you believed to be his way out of “misery loves company”.
Some of the drivers, protective as they had become of you, caught on pretty early how although Charles wouldn’t confess his affections, he would never candidly deny them either, which resulted in rising untrust between some of them, with your father on the other hand taking the blind eye approach and ignoring what was obvious until he couldn’t anymore.
You tried to pretend things were taken care of, but every time you found yourselves in the same space sparks could almost be seen coming from every other direction. The breaking point being a very public and loud display of how tense things were between you and him one Saturday night at the paddock, the motive long forgotten as both of you screamed at the top of your lungs for things the other had no fault. The frustration of walking on egg shells around each other clearly evident on the screaming match, and your father’s first intervention resulting in two grown adults looking like sulking toddlers who had just been told they had to deal with their emotions before anyone got seriously hurt in the cross fire.
That wasn’t the last time, and although you would try to keep discussions and screaming matches alike from happening, the public stares and midnight bedroom escapades escalated to a point where everyone decided enough was enough, and you were both locked at the FIA conference room, to either “kiss or scream it out” – their exact words.
“I’m not like your past relationship, Charles. I won’t bring you security, peace and quiet. I’m a mess and you know it, you’ve seen it. Everything I touch turns into a huge media monster and I’m fated to lose every single person I love. It’s not your fault I ruin everything, and it’s not your fault I can’t be what you need” You confessed, looking him with bloodshot eyes, tears falling freely.
“I don’t want them, I want you. Baggage and all, media attention and crazy fans, protective father and f1 drivers haunting me for years to come… The mess and everything they always said you’d be, because that’s the woman I fell in love with.” And although you had reservations on what you believed could be a relationship with the power to destroy his life, and potently his career, you gave in, letting your heart speak louder than your fears.
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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous
Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader
Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)
Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx
Sandman Masterlist
---------------------------------------------
The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.
Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.
They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.
And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.
One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:
Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.
At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.
The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.
A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.
The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.
For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.
Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.
If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.
This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.
Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.
From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.
You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.
You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.
You dream.
The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.
One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.
You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.
Everything changes.
Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.
You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.
The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.
His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.
You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.
The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.
You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.
All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.
It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.
You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.
It keeps you on display.
Just like the statues to your left.
You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.
You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.
Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.
It does nothing.
You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.
"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.
A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.
"Let go."
You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.
The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.
Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.
That was obscene.
The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.
There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.
You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.
You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.
But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.
---------------------------------------------
Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.
It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.
The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.
Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.
He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.
Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.
"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.
His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."
You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.
You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.
Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.
"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."
You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."
"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"
"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."
While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.
"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."
The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.
"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"
It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."
"Excuse me?"
You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.
The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.
His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."
He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.
"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."
You turn towards the door.
He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.
Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"
The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."
He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.
You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.
He reaches for your hand.
You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.
You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.
You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.
"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."
You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.
You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.
You welcome him.
It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.
"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.
You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.
He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.
His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.
Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.
He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.
His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."
-------------------------------------
Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt
"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."
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masterpiece - a joel miller x reader
summary: joel moseys on in to your art store, despite seeming distant and cold towards you. an annoyed artist and an aggressive man, now that seems like quite the match.
warnings: artist!reader, grumpy!joel (no shit lol), post-outbreak, jackson era, age gap (early 20s reader/ 56 year old peepaw joel), sort of enemies to lovers but the “they’re annoying to me” kind, no use of y/n, female reader, short but sweet smut (semi-public, f receiving oral, unprotected sex)
notes: this is for @iamasaddie’s moodboard writing challenge! thank you for the wonderful inspiration <3 also i know the photo is not joel, but i only write for him at the moment so everybody let’s just PRETEND OKAY!!!! enjoy my lovelies Xx
Memories from before the world collapsed were hazy for you.
Bucket hats sewn for toddlers, bright colored toy dinosaurs made from plastic, a red wagon your grandparents used to pull you around in through the neighborhood sidewalks- vaguely, their pictures sat within the confines of your mind. Vaguely you could remember the sound of your aunties laughing whilst cooking, the way your father would roar at the television during football season.
You could remember them, and yet they felt more like ideas than memories. As if they were something you read about in a book, not an experience you had once lived through.
When you were thirteen and your family had found their way to Jackson, you fell in love with all the art encyclopedias Maria had given you. On missions, your father would bring you every single book he could find that talked about art. All different types. From Giotto to Fragonard, Vélasquez to Monet, Van Gogh to Millais- all of them had enraptured you, they had taken you over, body and soul, and in a world that was chipping away around you, you found solace in their creations.
After you turned eighteen, you had enough courage to try your hand at portrait art. The first one you made of Tommy was unnerving. You made him look more like a neanderthal than a man, with mismatched ears and crossed eyes, thick and uneven facial hair and wild curls. Still, Tommy had it framed and hung above the mantle of his fire place.
It was a reminder of growth. Of where you once were.
Now you did portraits around town, traded them for some dried out herbs or freshly pressed paper. People liked having art around. It reminded them of what once was. They flocked to you happily, wanting to feel the same contentment they once fell, before the world had sunk to its knees and submitted.
You were a reminder to the townspeople that life didn’t have to be so gray, nor dreary. Everyone seemed to love you and your quirky, distant, eclectic personality. A true artist. A Van Gogh, as Maria had described you once. You saw the world in whatever color you so pleased, you saw things others didn’t, you picked up on pockets of beauty that many looked over. People admired you for that, they wanted to talk to you, wanted to pick at your brain.
Everyone except him.
The moment you watched Joel Miller trot in through those gates, you knew you had to have him. To paint him, that is. His thighs stretched taut across the saddle, his broad shoulders budging at the seams of his flannel, chocolate eyes distant and full of worry, anger, hunger- he was.... incredible. Your dream man. For painting purposes only, of course.
Well, that's what you continuously tried to remind yourself. You would reprimand your own mind, stating what you felt was the obvious: You were attracted to him the way an artist was attracted to the rising sun or the waves of the ocean. You wanted to paint him, study his features, color in his skin. There was no physical, emotional, or romantic attraction there.
No. No way. Not you. Not for a man as old as your own father, if not older. Not for a man who had only ever given you grunts and one worded answers in response to your questions. Not for a man who couldn't give you the time of day.
It was a normal Wednesday when it finally happened. Sitting in the little studio in the town's strip that Maria and Tommy had created for you, doodling away and sketching. You were working on a watercolor of the tree line in the distance, now focusing on the rise of the mountains behind them. Snowy, navy, serene. You weren't that good with scenic paintings, but Maria wanted a big canvas of your work to hang in the Tipsy Bison, for everyone to see.
And, as you so often did, you decided to indulge her.
The record player was scratching in the corner, some melodic crooning of Sinatra filling the room.
A deep huff escaped you. Things were not going your way today. "Not right. No, no." You muttered, looking at the wonky, twisted tree trunk you had just messed up on. "Not right at all." Amidst your personal berating, you hadn't heard the bell of the front door swing open and chime its familiar song.
"How hard is it to draw a fucking tree?" You grumbled, hissing in annoyance as you wiped away the dripping paint. Somehow, it only looked worse. You wiped your stained hands across your pants, groaning out in defeat.
"Am I interruptin' somethin'?"
The voice startled you. As your nerves dissipated, you recognized who that voice belonged too. Deep and baritone, the kind of voice that sunk through your chest like honey dripping from a spoon, swirling in to a cup of steaming tea.
He was honey, wasn't he? If honey was old and bitter, you thought to yourself.
You turned, finally meeting the face of Joel Miller.
"Hello." You stood up from your stool, wringing your messy hands out on your apron once again. "Why... are you in here?" You spoke slowly, as if you couldn't believe he were actually in front of you. Was it him? Or an apparition? Your eyes could be deceiving you. Perhaps you were Van Gogh after all.... slowly descending in to madness. You shook the thought away.
"You give that warm a' welcome to all your guests?" Joel narrowed his eyes at you, looking around the slightly messy studio. Hanged paintings for sale on the walls, splatters of paint dripping down wooden easels, tubes of oil and acrylics strewn around. Not many people visited you in here, lest to pick up their orders.
"I..." You trailed off in search of what to say next, narrowing your eyes at him in return. "No."
Joel hummed out between his teeth in response, fingers gently trailing down the sides of a few handmade journals you had for sale. "What do you want for one of these?" He asked, picking up the leather bound pages.
"I usually do a trade. Some vegetables, um... pretty much anything, really."
"You drive a hard bargain." His words dripped with sarcasm.
"Did you come in here to annoy me, or do you actually want something?" You snapped, sitting back down in your chair with a huff. The current painting you were working on was doing your head in, and your artistic talent was definitely being challenged.
You felt shit at your craft today, to be honest.
"I don't really got none of that." He responded sheepishly. "I could do somethin' for you? Got a leaking sink? Broken cabinet?" He sat down on a stool adjacent from you, flipping through the blank pages. "I wanna get this, for my daughter. She's, uh... she's a bit like you. Real in to art and stuff."
You rolled his offer through your head, thinking on it.
Portraits! There was your answer.
"I know what you could do for me."
Joel looked up at you and shrugged. "Sure, what is it?"
"Let me paint you. I-I need to work on my portraits, need to.... find my style." You explained softly. You watched his face spread over with confusion.
"That's just extra work for you, you ain't gettin' anything in return for painting me."
"Yes, I am! I'm honing in my skills."
Joel looked around at the art all around him. Paintings of the dogs he had seen wagging their tales through town, a portrait of Maria in the corner, a field of blooming flowers- he didn't think your skills needed any honing. You were remarkable, but Joel didn't really know that much about art, anyways.
"Fine."
"Free tonight? After dinner?"
Grudgingly, Joel agreed.
• • •
His ass was hurting. The cold, metal stool beneath his thighs was uncomfortable, digging in to his skin. He wondered how you could do this all day, how you could sit and stare and paint and move without complaining.
Because, god damn, was this seat uncomfortable.
When he had walked in for his portrait, you were changing the track on the old record player. The Goo Goo Dolls. He had rolled his eyes, unable to count all the times he had heard Iris on the radio.
Still, it brought a sense of nostalgia he had thought died out a long ago. It made him feel…. normal. And normalcy was the most beautiful thing in the world now.
“How d’you sit on this all day?” He snapped half way through your session. Your body was hidden behind the canvas, and every so often he saw splatters and drops of paints exploding. He was curious what you were doing back there.
“Just do.”
Joel snorted. “That ain’t a real answer.”
He heard your annoyed sigh. “It is. Once I get in the zone, I just go for it.”
That answer satisfied him enough.
“Why do you like art so much anyways?”
You peeked out from behind the canvas, eyebrows furrowing. “Because it makes me feel alive. Do you know that feeling? Inhibition? Freedom?” Your words dripped with sarcasm, hissing out with impatience. Why did he care, anyways?
Joel rolled his eyes, holding on to the edge of his seat as he winced. His back was strained, and he knew he was getting too old for this.
“I do, actually.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’re really damn annoyin’, you know that?”
You grumbled beneath your breath, tweaking a few strays of eyebrow hair on his portrait. “Been told.”
“Sure you have.”
A long bout of silence eased over the room, and for a long while, the only sound was the scratching of the vinyl and the thick breeze outside.
“What’s your deal, anyways?” You finally asked, working on the thick vein of his neck.
You stared at him for a long while, tracing over his face. He was undoubtedly handsome. The curve of his Aquiline nose reminded you of the Roman sculptures you had seen in your books, the softness of his perfectly curved lips, the shape of his moustache. He really was a true masterpiece.
The length of his neck bled into two sturdy collarbones and thick shoulders, biceps strong and deep beneath the sleeves of his dark green flannel. The color of his skin, tanned and slightly golden and perfect, had been your favorite to paint thus far, the depths of his cheeks and cheekbones perfect beneath the swinging light of the studio.
Joel stared at you, your question racketing through his brain like a pinball machine. “What do you mean?”
“Why’re you so angry? Why don’t you like me?” You finally asked, disappearing behind the easel once again.
“Never said I didn’t like you.”
You laughed softly, the tip of your brush swiping down the side of his jaw. “It’s implied.”
“By you, maybe.”
“By me? You’re the one who avoids me. I don’t have the plague, y’know.”
Joel snorted. “Worse than that.” Hu grumbled beneath his breath.
“Heard that.”
He took in a deep breath, and although you couldn’t see his face at the moment, you knew without a doubt his brows were furrowed, jaw clenched. The typical mask Joel Miller wore with such pride.
“Look.” Joel began speaking, but he wasn’t sure where he was going. “You….. I….. look.”
“I’m looking!” You exclaimed in annoyance. “Just spit it out already, man.”
In one swift move he had gotten up from his stool and had grabbed your wrist. His grasp wasn’t hard, it wasn’t mean. In fact it was gentle, sturdy with an unfamiliar sort of warmth. His brown eyes bore down in to yours earnestly, and you saw them flickering with something you couldn’t quite pin point, an emotion you had never seen him show you.
A thick lump was forming in your throat, and you felt your stomach churning with butterflies, aflame by the feeling of his calloused palm on your skin. He was warm, rough, masculine.
He was perfect. A masterpiece.
You sucked in a sharp breath of air as Joel crouched down, now level with your eye sight.
“Look.” He began once again with his new favorite word. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Okay?”
“What?!” That’s what he was trying to say?
“Yes. It’s embarrassing, I know.” He was seething through gritted teeth, jaw clenching with annoyance. His cheeks had grown a soft pink, no doubt out of embarrassment for the admittance of his secret.
“I-”
Joel wasted no time cutting you off. “I ain’t the poet type, alright? Lord knows I’m not. And when I see you…. fuck. This is so fucking stupid. When I see you, I feel shit. Okay?”
A laugh of amusement escaped you. “You feel shit?” You asked incredulously, and his grip on your wrist loosened.
Joel took a step back, sitting down on the floor. “It’s stupid. A fuckin’ crush, in the middle of the world ending.”
“It hasn’t ended yet.” You purred, setting down your brush as you sat in front of him. “So, maybe take the time to kiss me? Just in case it doesn’t end, tomorrow or something.”
Joel stared at you, a long moment blanketing your bodies. He was weighing his options in his mind, calculating what could happen if he did, if he didn’t. Damn the risks.
He had spent so long wondering what you tasted like, what you felt like. He said a silent prayer to whatever god may still be alive, and leaned in towards you.
His lips were softer than you thought, and his facial hair tickled and bristled against your cheeks. Joel was a good kisser, a passionate kisser. Your mouths melded together like two pieces of iron being hammered into a ring, thick and sweet and harmonious in their shared movements.
Joel couldn’t help his wandering hands. The rough tips of his fingers made you shiver, calloused thumbs drawing circles in the dips of your hips as he pulled you closer. You were straddling him now, arms thrown around his neck as you kissed him fervently, as though his spit was the last thing you would ever taste.
“You could’ve done this months ago, y’know.” You mumbled against his skin.
“Probably could’ve.”
Your fingers moved down to the buttons of his shirt, Joel’s mouth attaching to your neck.
“Probably would’ve saved you a lot of annoyance, you know.” You grinned down against him, a soft gasp escaping you as your hands instinctively moved to his hair, fingers tangling into his curls. You grinded your hips down, feeling that bulge pressing into the crotch of your leggings. “If you woulda told me, I could’ve helped with all that pent up aggression.”
Joel rolled his eyes at the playfulness of your words, pulling you closer to him. “You’re trouble.” He muttered, lips attaching back to yours. A smile broke out across your face as you pushed his flannel off his shoulders. Joel pulled away, throwing off his shirt, before tugging yours off in turn. Your chests, bare and warm, pressed in to the other, and in one swift flick of his wrist your bra came off with ease.
He pushed you back on to the ground, grinding himself against you. You tugged your pants off, left with a pair of panties that were now soaked through. Your clit, swollen and throbbing beneath the cotton material, was ignited with each movement of his hips, his covered bulge tracing circles into your sensitive nub.
Joel moved downwards, until he was face to face with your covered pussy. He leaned forward, dragging his nose across your clit as he pressed his tongue flat into your folds, tasting your arousal that had settled into your underwear.
“Off.” He commanded, undoing his own belt. You flicked your panties away, and he was face to face with your cunt once more. “Pretty little thing.” He mumbled, leaning forward to taste you. When his lips wrapped around your clit, your back arched off the cold tiles of the floor, pleasure coursing through you in electric droves.
“Taste pretty, too.” Joel smirked against your pussy, his tongue pressing in to your hole, dragging out that sweet wetness that dripped from you like syrup.
He tasted you, breathed you in, swallowed you. You were the only thing that filled his senses at the moment, the only thing that he had his mind on. In that moment your pussy was the only thing he worshipped, the only thing he wanted to spend any time tending to.
Your hips were grinding against his face now, his tongue swirling and lapping at your swelling clit. You couldn’t even talk, couldn’t even think. He was all you could pay any attention to. Damn your art, damn your painting- right now his mouth was the only thing you could wrap your head around.
Your pussy was clenching around nothing, your orgasms on brewing in the pit of your belly. Joel’s rough palms carved up and down your sides, his well worked hands scratching your skin in a delicious sort of way. He was moaning against your folds, nose brushing up and down your pussy as he lapped at the pink of your cunt.
“Joel, Joel-” You were drunk on him, on his movements, clit tingling against the tip of his tongue. He chuckled against you, knowing just what he was doing to you.
Joel knew how to make a woman feel good, and you were no exception.
“Gonna cum.” You breathed out excitedly, hips bucking one last time as your orgasm washed over you. Your moans and cries echoed across the wall, and you tugged him by his curls farther between your thighs. Joel licked you through the height of your orgasm, until you had no choice but to push him away.
You lay on the floor, breaths hard and shaky, blinking as you came back down to earth. Joel crawled over you, his thumb gently trailing down your cheek. He kissed you, and you tasted yourself on his tongue, which was now pushing past your lips and exploring the softness of your mouth. You moaned, legs opening to grant his throbbing cock access.
With your small hand, you guided the tip of his leaking cock to the folds of your pussy, pressing it gently against your sensitive cunt.
“Fuck me.” You begged against his mouth.
Joel happily obliged you.
To say you had never been fucked quite like that was the understatement of the year.
Joel’s cock was thick and perfect, curved ever so slightly to the left. He hit every spot deep within you that made you shiver and moan, he knew just how to roll your hips to drag you towards your second orgasm.
And god, did he know how to last.
By the time your third orgasm had rushed over you, his fingers had tangled themselves in your hair and your teeth had sunk into the thickness of his pretty neck, his cock still hard and stern inside of you. He was panting like a dog, grinding and humping in to you as his twitching cock filled you to the brim.
Your thighs were shaking, wrapped around his waist as his fingers tweaked your nipples. He was breathing hard and heavy in to your hair, eyes shut tight as he took you all in.
“Feels so good.” You whimpered, eyes pricking with tears of pleasure.
“Fuckin’ love your cunt.” He grumbled, teeth nipping at your ear. “Gonna paint these fuckin’ walls. Gonna fill you up, make you mine.” It wasn’t just dirty talk, it was a promise. His hips stuttered into you, your aching clit pressing into his pelvis with every deep thrust he gave you.
“Cum inside me then. Make me yours.” You whispered, nails digging into his shoulders, dragging down his back. You had etched your sketches into the skin of his back, drawing lines of ravenous pleasure that only he would be able to see, when all was said and done.
Joel groaned at the sound of your sweet voice, and with a final grunt, you felt ropes of his cum filling you up, dripping and sliding out of you as he lazily thrust, riding out his own high.
By the time he had fallen beside you, your hand had grabbed his, and you both knew you were done for.
Months of built up pressure, stolen glances, curt conversations- you both knew what was there, beneath the surface. Two people who didn’t quite know how to approach the other, and yet still, two people who knew what was lurking beneath the surface.
God, you were so happy Joel had walked into your shop.
He had helped you get dressed, and you both walked outside to the street, sharing a cigarette you had bartered for a couple weeks ago. You took in a deep drag, gently holding it to his lips. As you exhaled, he inhaled the tobacco, and both of your eyes settled on to the bare street, the winter moon beating her sweet, silver light on to the pavement.
“If you keep doing that, I don’t think I’ll ever finish your panting.” You finally spoke, filling the comfortable silence with the sweet cadence of your words.
“I like it how it is.” He whispered.
You turned, looking at the canvas that was drying ever so slowly beneath the store light. It was a bit whacky, a bit unfinished, as though a part of its story had yet to be told. But Joel’s eyes though…. well, his eyes were what struck you the hardest out of it all, and for a moment you allowed yourself to take in the beauty and skill of your craftsmanship.
Those umber orbs, painted with that familiar distance his eyes so often held, swirling with mystery, regret, wonder, and a little bit of admiration that you hadn’t quite picked up on while painting. They were full of emotion that Joel so often showed, in his own quiet way.
You turned to him, taking another puff from the cigarette. A smile stretched across your face, and his arm gently hooked itself around you.
“Yeah, me too.” You admitted quietly.
After that night, the townspeople wondered why Joel was a little bit more approachable. They wondered what made him a little bit more softer, kinder, a bit more poetic.
And each time you would sneak away into his house underneath the cover of darkness, the reminder of that fateful night hung just above his sofa, Joel’s unfinished portrait staring at you with that familiar beauty of his.
#joel miller x reader#studioghibelli#joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x you#the last of us fic#joel miller smut#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller au#joel the last of us#joel tlou#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanfiction
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GIVE ME AN ANSWER!
pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader
warning(s): cursing, angst(??), not sure what else, not edited
word count: 2.5k
author’s note: not super happy with this, it feels a bit underdeveloped, but i can’t watch it sit in my drafts any longer. i didn’t write this with a part ll in mind, by the way. this was supposed to turn into something else, but that didn’t work out + i lost inspiration so it is what it is. sidenote, if you have any angsty/sad prompts/requests, pls send ‘em in, it’s my favourite thing to write! sending love, —mari
You couldn't help but feel like a creep, huddled in the corner of the dimly lit booth, your gaze fixated on them from across the bar. In front of you, a nearly forgotten gin and tonic sat, its ice cubes melting as you absentmindedly swirl them around with a small black straw. If anyone were to inquire, you'd insist that your attention was solely on the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall behind them, broadcasting a wrestling match you had zero interest in.
You wondered if He was somehow aware of your unwavering gaze fixed upon him from across the room. It crossed your mind that perhaps he was deliberately flirting with the stunning redhead as a sly ploy to put on a spectacle, fully cognizant of your watchful eyes. Did He hope to incite jealousy within you? You nearly chuckled at the absurdity of the idea. The notion of feeling envious over a girl with her hands lightly grazing his arm seemed laughable. After all, just a few days ago, he had been lying naked between the sheets in your bed. So, no, you weren't jealous, and you certainly weren't about to let jealousy rear its head.
Yet, there was a gnawing irritation within you. He had, after all, extended a personal invitation your way, urging you to join him and his teammates for what he touted as their "one last hurrah" before the start of the new season. It irked you that he was lavishing so much attention on someone else, given this context. The annoyance was unmistakably etched across your features. Your poker face had long deserted you, and you didn't care to conceal your disdain. Several drinks deep, with a pleasant buzz now enveloping you, you found yourself in a carefree state where your demeanor wasn't a primary concern.
You eventually shift your gaze from him, an uneasy feeling retreating in your stomach. You instead direct your attention to Baby Hughes, who is engrossed in a game of darts with John. A small smile graces your lips as the younger boy, with his earnest enthusiasm, throws a dart that sails far wide of the board, disappearing into some unseen corner. John throws his head back in laughter, and it's evident that he's playfully ribbing Luke, who responds with a melodramatic explanation for his errant throw, punctuating with wild hand gestures. You contemplate joining them, when a towering figure looms over you, casting a shadow that demands your immediate notice.
"Is this seat taken?" You find yourself under the scrutiny of a tall, attractive blonde who's looking down at you. A hopeful smile adorns his lips, revealing dimples that only add to his charm. His right hand holds a beer, while the other rests casually at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging the hair. Your eyes travel appreciatively from his warm gaze, down his well-dressed figure. Blondie sported black slacks that complement a maroon long-sleeve dress shirt neatly tucked in, with the top buttons lazily undone, revealing a small, glimmering gold cross. The choice of attire piqued your curiosity; he seemed a bit overdressed for a local, family owned bar.
Your minds flickers back to Him, and you contemplate stealing a quick glance in his direction to see if he's still in conversation that girl. However, you are somewhat physically trapped behind the man standing in front of you, preventing any discreet surveillance without making your intentions obvious. Opting for a polite smile instead, you gesture with a welcoming hand for the handsome stranger to take the seat in front of you.
You observe the visible sigh of relief escaping him, his eyes momentarily betraying his unease. With a sheepish smile, he gently places his drink on the table and eases himself into the booth.
His voice, raspy and honestly deeper than you expected, breaks the silence. "I'm Anthony, by the way." He extends his hand toward you, but halts for a moment, perhaps feeling slightly awkward at the formality.
You respond with a light chuckle, reaching out to meet his hand with yours for a firm handshake. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."
The conversation with Anthony flows effortlessly, each word weaving a tapestry of connection that unravels the initial awkwardness. You discover that he's in town for a friend's wedding, which explains the formal attire, and that he's a native Rhode Islander. He confesses his nervousness about approaching you, and when you jest about whether it's due to your so-called "resting bitch face," he denies it vehemently.
He smiles, his eyes sincere as he offers, "It's always a bit nerve-wracking to approach the most beautiful girl in the room."
You can't help but snort at his compliment, your hand quickly covering your mouth in embarrassment.
Unbeknownst to you, your surprised snort captures His attention, and his head snaps in your direction, drawn by the sound of your voice cutting through the bar's lively atmosphere. His gaze lowers at the sight of a guy in front of you, and the smile on your lips as you laugh again at something he's said. He watches, as the guy's hand moves to rest on yours, and his jaw tightens, his mind racing with questions about what could possibly be so amusing in your conversation.
"Jack, are you listening to me?" A manicured hand slides into his view, weaving through the air in a bid to recapture his attention. Clearing his throat, he absentmindedly runs a hand through his unruly brown locks before reluctantly refocusing his eyes on the redhead before him. She beams at him, her lips quickly resuming what she had been saying before his lost concentration. The truth was, he hadn't been listening to her at all.
He can't focus on her words, not with the image of you and that guy now engraved into his mind. The mere thought consumes his every breath, causing him to bite at his bottom lip out of agitation. He racks his brain for a way to gracefully escape the everlasting conversation with the redhead, and as if on cue, the universe seems to answer his silent plea, when the girl in front of him glances at the clock. Her eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the time.
"Shit, I didn't realize it was this late. I've got to get going," she apologized, her lips forming a slight pout. Jack sends her a reassuring smile, nodding his head in understanding.
"It's cool, it was fun while it lasted," He replies plainly, standing up from his barstool with a nod.
She frowns, mirroring his actions. "Did you want to maybe exchange numbers, or something?" Her voice holds a glimmer of hope.
He pauses, pretending to think for a moment, even though he doesn't really need to as the answer was always going to be the same. "No, sorry. Have a good night, Isla."
You don't even notice Him walking over to you, too consumed in the vibrant conversation that you shared with the man in front of you. It's only when Anthony's gaze travels past your head, his lips pausing mid sentence, that you finally catch sight of him. You follow Anthony's gaze, angling your body around in the small booth.
You open your mouth to speak, but His cold palms cup your cheeks, drawing you into a passionate, yet utterly unexpected and somewhat unwelcome kiss. Your eyes widen, caught off guard, and your lips don't have time to react before he gently pulls away. His fingers tenderly brush aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face, and he looks down at you with an innocent smile. "Hi, my love. Is everything okay?"
You're too dumbfounded to formulate a response, still struggling to register what just transpired as Jack gently nudges you aside and smoothly settles into the booth next to you. As you lock eyes with Anthony, it's evident he feels extremely uncomfortable, his gaze darting uneasily between you and Jack.
"Hey, man. How's it goin'?" Jack asks with a casual grin, his tone laid-back as he eases into the booth. His arm naturally drapes around your shoulders, as if it's a habitual gesture that's been repeated countless times. You go to shrug him off, but his grasp tightens, pulling you even closer against his side.
"Hey... hi," Anthony's gaze leaves Jack, focusing solely on you as he speaks again. "You didn't say you had a..."
Jack interjects, cutting off Anthony before he can finish his sentence. "Boyfriend? Yeah, she does."
Your elbow makes sharp contact with Jack's side, prompting a quick release of his arm from around your shoulder. He winces, but swiftly regains his composure, though not without a slight scoff escaping his lips. "He's not my boyfriend."
"You weren't saying that last night?" Jack didn't come to yours last night, and even if he had, he was the one requesting that whatever was happening between the two of you to remain casual.
I don't have time for a full blown relationship, he said.
All of my focus needs to be on hockey, he said.
Things are fine as they are, let's not ruin it, he said.
And what? He gets to flirt and fuck around with as many puck bunnies as he wants, but the minute you try and do the same, it's suddenly a problem? Not only was he not your boyfriend, but he didn't even want to be, he had no right to get jealous. And he especially had no right to rush over here and kiss you the way he did.
You pivot towards Jack, your fury emanating from every pore. His T-zone area has a faint reddish tint, and his breaths come fast and heavy. "Aren't you busy entertaining Jessica Rabbit?"
He tilts his head back in laughter at your nickname for the redhead he's been conversing with all night. Clearing his throat to regain composure, he gazes at you with a grin, teeth lightly grazing his lower lip as he tries to suppress a smirk that manages to break free regardless. "Jealous?"
You scoff, an incredulous look overtaking your face as you stumble over your words at his accusation. "Me? Jealous? Jealous of what? Listening to you talk about yourself for an hour? God, you're so full of it."
"Wouldn't you like to be?" He mumbles under his breath.
His perverted insinuation prompts a gasp to escape your lips, and your face ignites with embarrassment. Anthony's eyes are locked on the awkward exchange, his expression a mixture of horror and discomfort. You hurriedly bring your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes intensely, yearning for this nightmarish moment to come to an end.
"I don't... I don't know what's happening," he stammers, slipping out of the booth to rise to his feet. Anthony takes a final sip of his beer, his head shaking in disbelief. "But clearly, there's... something between the two of you."
You find yourself at a loss for words because, in a way, he isn't entirely wrong. You and Jack weren't in a defined relationship, but there was undoubtedly something brewing between the two of you, despite both of you attempting to ignore it. It wouldn't be right to involve Anthony in the midst of your complicated situation, no matter how appealing and genuine he seems.
"I'm sorry." You apologize.
He shakes his head. "It's alright. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Maybe I'll see you around." With those words, he walks away from your table, heading toward the exit.
Jack shifts next to you, a content sigh escaping his lips. "He seemed nice."
"What's your problem?!" You hiss, jabbing your finger into his chest. "You invite me out with you and then completely ignore me the whole night? What the fuck, Jack!"
He meets your intensity head-on, responding in self-defense. "You started it!"
"How, Jack, how? How did I start it?"
"You were flirting with Dawson!"
A scoff escapes your lips, followed by an incredulous laugh. "I was not flirting with Dawson!"
You needed to escape the bar. The conversation had spiraled into a heated exchange, and the air in the crowded space felt increasingly suffocating. You were determined not to create a scene, but it was clear that staying any longer would only escalate tensions.
Without hesitation, you start pushing Jack, who reluctantly lets his body be forced out of the booth. He struggles to regain his footing as you forcefully move past him, heading straight for the exit.
As you pass through the door and step outside, the brisk New Jersey air envelopes you, offering a welcome contrast to the heated atmosphere inside. The chill grazes your exposed skin, providing a refreshing respite from the intense emotions swirling within. Jack hastily follows you, his fingers gripping your arm in an attempt to halt your departure, but you had no intention of walking away this time.
You pivot to confront him, your gaze unwavering and filled with a determination that mirrored the intensity in his own eyes, which held an enigmatic spark you couldn't quite decipher.
"It's not fair," you assert, your hands gently settling on his chest, seeking the warmth of his presence. He remains silent, leaving you to fill the void with your thoughts and emotions, or leave, and say nothing.
You stand there, torn between two choices. The option to say nothing and simply walk away, leaving behind all the headaches, the arguments, and the pettiness, but also bidding farewell to the good days, the shared laughs, and the nights spent wrapped up in each other. It's a choice to say goodbye to Jack Hughes, the one who has become the only constant in your life for the past three months.
Or the second choice, the most daunting path to take. It's the option where you stand in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest, and confess everything you've been holding in. To leave it all on the floor, a vulnerable offering for him to accept or decline. It's the scariest option of all, baring your heart to the boy on the hockey team, even after he's made it clear many times that he isn't looking for anything serious.
"We're not exclusive, Jack." You begin. "You can't keep swooping in and acting like you have some sort of ownership over me when you don't even want to be my boyfriend."
He waits, the stillness between you heavy with unspoken words, expectancy etched across his features. When your silence lingers, he takes the initiative. "Let me take you home," he offers.
"Either you want me, only me, or I'm done."
He pressures. "Let me take you home."
"Give me an answer!"
He sighs, a deep and exasperated sound, his fingers instinctively tangling in the roots of his hair as he grapples with the complexity of the situation. "I can't give you the answer you want."
#jack hughes#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes imagines#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes fluff#jack hughes fic#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes fanfiction
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One of your girls part two | Carlos Sainz Jr
Summary: after a fateful outcome, Carlos wants to fix what he unintentionally broke.
Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, angst, alcohol consumption, dirty dancing, small description of throwing up, cheating, mentions of sex, messed up dynamics, slight swearing.
Notes: second part of this fic. i also wanted to say i’m currently taking request, to anyone who might be interested xx.
Credits: the gif used belongs to @neymarhamilton ‘s tumblr account, so all credits belong to them. this part, just like the one before, is inspired by the song “one of your girls” by Troye Sivan.
1.8k
SIX MONTHS AGO:
A chilly night welcomes my friend group as we make our way through a prestigious and crowded restaurant situated in the heart of Madrid.
Being born and raised in Spain´s capital city, the girls now walking into the facilities have been by my side my whole life; faith brought us together our first day of school, just three frightened little kids trying to survive elementary.
I like to believe that we complement each other, even if we hadn´t met all those years ago, life would have found a way to connect us.
A girl’s night out is a rare occurrence between us; always being on the shy side, we very much prefer staying in, drowning ourselves in sweet treats while marathoning our comfort romcoms.
The reason why we´re summoned tonight is quite simple… my very first broken heart.
You see, in an attempt to lighten the mood, my friends brought us to an extremely exclusive eatery, one where we clearly didn´t fit in. The difference was quite notorious, surrounded by leggy models and their handsome companions, I quite frankly begin to wonder why I ever agreed.
With a deep breath, I straighten my back and let the hostess remove my coat. “In for a penny, in for a pound” I think with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.
As we´re carried to our spot, I try and take the essence of the place in. I start noticing its eccentric décor, dim lights brightening the burgundy walls, leather booths scattered all over the classy tile floor.
What makes an ordinary dinner such a big success? Its bizarre modality.
Our table is filled with strangers, completely engulfed in their different conversations. The main reason for my friends to take us to this unconventional location was exactly this; the inexorable need to engage in conversations with foreign people.
The first round of dirty martinis arrives as the last costumers take their places next to me, with a lousy cheer I pour the drink down my throat, feeling its pleasant burning down my body, warming me up, making me forget.
“Easy there tiger”- the man sited by my side chuckles, gesturing towards my empty glass.
I take a moment to wander across his features. Thick eyebrows, big brown eyes, plump lips. Definitely attractive, exactly what I need.
A smile creeps up my face, the wires in my brain getting to work.
I notice an elegantly worn designer shirt hugging his chest, his forearms resting against the wooden surface, his attentive stare trying to read my thoughts.
“And you are?”- I condescendingly tease him.
“Carlos”- his hand travels to mine, embracing me with his warm- “Carlos Sainz.”
The subtle body hair covering his fist tickling my naked skin, igniting a fire deep inside me.
And in that moment, I simply knew there was no getting out, not anybody else as long as he kept staring at me like this, eating me raw with his gaze.
That was the first night I ever came back home with him.
————
FOUR MONTHS AGO:
Carlos is away for the weekend, oceans separating us, palpable distance every time he races through my mind.
I try convincing myself It’s the sex I miss, the obvious physical attraction, the invisible force that pulls us towards the other, the feeling of his warm skin being impossibly closer to mine.
Truth being told, I’m sitting immovable on my bed, nervously waiting for a call.
I can’t help but recall his soft locks intertwined with my fingers, his tongue inching towards my neck, how he never fails to make my blood boil with a simple grin.
My phone brings me out of my daydreams, screaming for attention as a call enters it. His name glistening on the screen, filling me with pure bliss and forcing me to hold my giggles.
Acting like a schoolgirl with a crush while being a full-grown adult… how pathetic!
Two rings go by before i pick up, bitting my bottom lip to keep my voice calm as if I wasn’t desperately clinging to it seconds ago.
“Gorgeous, you got a minute to spare?”- he asks, clear amusement in his tone, abusing the charm he knows he has.
“That depends, Carlos, who’s asking?”
I’m gobsmacked at how composed I sound, nowhere near how I actually feel.
My knuckles turn white from grasping my sheets.
“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you miss me”- his smile visible through his speech.
My heart skips a beat, can his words be revealing my true feelings?
“Oh honey, keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night…”
I’m met with his scandalous laugh filling the line, raising my pulse until it’s beating on my ears.
Everything stops, everything keeps going.
I close my eyes in acknowledgement, being forced to admit what i’ve been denying ever since I met him.
Oh, how screwed I am!
———
TWO MONTHS AGO:
The music rumbles at the disco, throbbing on my skin with its intensity.
Being dragged to a hip party, my friends and I are bundled up in the comfort of our own group, dancing between ourselves.
As I rock my body to meet the pulsating rhythm, I embrace Carlos’s presence behind me, tightly grabbing my waggling hips.
He presses himself into me and I rub against his growing erection, purposely torturing him. His kisses start straying while sucking visible red marks into my neck.
His penetrating cologne invades my nostrils, clinging into my bare skin like a golden tattoo.
The mix of the alcohol I insisted on chugging and his hands shaping my whole body becoming intoxicating.
A foreign touch on my shoulder makes me open my eyes, leaving me to face my friend staring at me like i’ve grown a second head.
“You’re coming with me”- she pronounces as she drags me away from Carlos, who snorts in disbelief.
“What? Why?”- I ask as i’m forced to take a seat at the bar.
“Have you gone mad? You two were literally dry humping each other in the middle of the crowd!”- She hisses worriedly, forcing me to drink the water bottle she bought for me.
As she sits next to me, I prepare myself for the lecture she’s about to impart me, letting my eyes wonder across the dance floor.
I catch a glimpse of Carlos standing against a wall, hemmed by complete darkness, sometimes interrupted by one of the dj's lights.
When the spotlight lands on him, I start noticing the delicate hands hugging his broad shoulders, the almost nonexistent distance between him and the blonde caressing his cheeks.
Bile climbs up my throat, threatening to be ejected thanks to the scene before me.
Her lips all over his neck, staining the collar of his white shirt with lipstick.
Realizing i’m not paying an iota of attention to her, my friends follows my gaze stumbling across the sequence.
Effortlessly, she yanks me away from the enclosed space and into the garden.
Without being able to stop myself, I empty the contents of my stomach into the ground, constantly replaying the flashbacks of their sensual dance.
“Everything’s okay now, love”- My friend states while caressing my tangled up hair. Her fingertips come into contact with my cheeks, brushing my tears away.
Sobs are quick to scape my lungs, becoming more and more erratic as I imagine the second by second unfolding inside the disco.
———
PRESENT:
After running away from Carlos’s house, in the middle of a Madrilenian night, I’m fast to hide into the loneliness of my apartment.
I can’t even find comfort in blaming him as I was the one to agree with our “no exclusivity policy”, believing I could make it work.
How stupid of me to think I would be capable of not being trapped into his nets.
Clearly the only solution I can possibly come up with is crying it out, and that’s how I found myself in this situation; puffy eyes, completely ruined mascara, quivering eyes from shedding way too many tears.
Could I have been more stupid? I can’t even resonate one good reason why I would ever accept what he’s willing to offer me while wanting him in his entirety.
My determination is easily devastated as desperate fists bang against my door.
“Please, open up”- A too familiar voice implores from outside the apartment.
“I don’t ever wanna see you again”- I manage to scream through whimpers.
“I beg of you, please let me in! I swear I can explain.”
Standing right on the other side of the door, I feel my hand toying with the doorknob, trying to determinate whether or not to listen to his pleas.
“There’s nothing to explain, Carlos!”- I say, above a whisper, my voice to fragile for anything else.
“There’s been a while since i’ve been with anyone else, alright? Not since all I could think about was you!”
An unbreakable silence fills the hallways of the building, only the sound of his pantings and heavy breathing interrupting the stillness.
Without much hesitation, I open the hinges separating us.
Clearly, I was nowhere near prepared for the view before me; his full brown eyes now shimmering with unshed orbs, accumulated in his tear ducts.
“How about the girl from the voicemail?”- I ask, almost scared to find out this is all a product of my imagination.
“I know what that seemed like, but I promise you it’s not what you think!”- he says, piercing me with his gaze- “That was my ex girlfriend. She has a hard time letting go of me, even though there’s been more than a year since we’ve last been together. I never answer her calls and that’s why she’s getting more and more desesperate.”
Everything around me stops just to listen to his next words, my heart betting so out of control he might even hear it.
“Back at my apartment you told me you were enamored by me, well, there’s no use in trying to deny i’m in love with you”- he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear- “so much it’s physically painful, it’s all I can think about.”
My brain turned into mush as his confession sinks in. I almost want to laugh at how ridiculous the idea seems to me; the man I love, probably the only one i’ll ever love, stating that my feelings are reciprocate.
A sigh leaves my parted lips as a quiet tear runs down my face.
“I know i’ve made my mistakes and believe me when I say i’ll regret them every minute i’m on this earth, but I promise you, that if you give me the chance, i’ll make it up to you until my dying breath”- his voice sounds shaky, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of him.
I don’t think I ever reacted as fast as now, jumping into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. Little giggles leave both of our mouths at the ridiculous situation.
“I love you”- He murmurs, muffled by the kisses he’s pressing against my checks.
“I love you too”- I answer back, with our bodies still entwined.
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz f1#argentina#ferrari#red bull f1#red bull racing#mercedes benz#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1#max verstappen#lando norris#charles leclerc x reader#españa#madrid#romance#fanfic#angst with a happy ending#light angst#formula 1#formula one
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more thoughts
big part of why i loathe what totk did with its story and lore is that it tremendously hurts botw in retrospect
i said that before and mentioned all of these points before as well but i just have to mention it again; how totk did away with all the little mysteries in botw, like the ancient hero looking kinda strange leading to lots of interesting theories- WHOOP its a sonau mix guy revealed through a collectable and its straight up said by purah/impa that that is the ancient hero .. like it was an always known fact ......
the sonau ruins in botw of a long gone group of people that lived in the forest of phirone - WHOOP those are just monuments built by hylians in memory of the sonau and actually their real architecure isnt rare and few but everywhere en masse and doesnt resemble the ones from botw at all, aside from some vague dragon motive; theres more stuff of the oh so sadly gone and not at all mysterious anymore sonau left than there was of the ancient shiekah in botw (and now it doesnt exist at all anymore, who cares about them, how important they were, or this worlds history, especially zelda, she never cared about shiekah or history that wasnt about sonau :)))) )
one of the biggest crimes, to me, personally, is what totk did with the dragons
not actively mind you, but still changed my view of them and i hate it; i always saw them as these ethereal otherwordly spirits older than time itself (i liked the idea of them being like a final evolution of the dragons from skyward sword, tho of course i dont need that to be canon lol) and then totk comes along and .. the newly revealed -always been there super cool- race of people from the sky is heavily based on their designs ... and they have armor sets imitating the dragons ... and have ... magical never heard of before stones that turn people into .... dragons ....
i get how that can be an interesting thing for people to connect but for me personally ... its a mystery that REALLY shouldnt have been solved, at all, or even touched, the fact that you knew nothing about the dragons other than they are here was what made them feel so much more divine and awe inspiring
(i know you could try to think of it being the other way around, the sonau worshipping the dragons so much they dedicated all of their cultur around them ((but then again were is that anywhere, if they worshipped them so much then they sure didnt matter in any of what we say of them in memories..)) ... but the sonau designs, the armor ... the stones ... its all such an obvious connection ...)
and its really hard for me to ignore it, i actively have to work now to keep seeing the dragons as these untouchable ethereal spirits instead of some sonau guy eating a fucking stone
and yet again its like .. can you really blame me for feeling weird about the sonau/dislike them when ... theres nothing that WASNT touched by the sonau, they already had tech way above the level of the shiekah, they were in the sky, the surface AND the underground all along, theirs is the actually important influence on the history of the world, they have been in every place that was once important, hell they were in every place were a settlement of people is EVEN THE FEW YEARS OLD TABURASA (tarrey town), their buildings look like they were abandoned 10 years ago, all their shit is still working, they founded (this) hyrule, they are the royals, they are the gods, they are the dragons, the ancient hero was a sonau mix clad in waht totk made out to be their signature design elements-
we had recordings from that time (tapestry) and even PEOPLE (the monks) and yet the sonau were a total mystery? even though their culture was literally still there when the shiekah built their tech?
what gets me escpeially is how .. they didnt NEED to erase anything shiekah, they didnt need to act like they never existed, they didnt need to make the sonau be the coolest guys ever and were so desperate to get that into your thinking everyone in the game is obsessed with them and tells you why you should be obsessed too
like am i just insane or is it a rather .. obvious connection to make that the shiekah found the tech of the sonau and built theirs inspired by what they could find, it was so old at that point that its non functional or even recognizable in the present, but when the shiekah found it they could still research it; given how the shiekah built multiple shrines and puzzles to them WITHTIN ruins that, in botw, were sonau ruins, i thought that was the logical line to draw and a good way to connect them while still leaving the sonau to be a mysterious ... mystery (this is what im going for in my rewrite btw)
also another thought, if the ancient shiekah could see the future to a degree they built stuff to prepare the next hero for the next calamity that would happen in thousands of years .. how did they never find out about gan? i know they were more about the future than the past but like ... were they really so stupid to see that the calamity will come back just the same from the same place and NOT investigate?? ESPECIALLY considering that the weird half sonau ancient hero was literally THERE when they saw the furture and built all of that for it???? the sonau werent gone gone in any sense and you CANNOT tell me that the shiekah jsut ignored this weird half whatever looking guy outfitted in an aesthetic and culture that wasnt obviously present anymore and clearly connected to somethign else, with probably clear scars were whatever buildings were lifted into the skies- SOMEHOW- and monoments LITERALLY STILL READABLE IN THE PRESENT that tells you about all theshit that went down?? even if you hid them with some weird mechanisms, are you realyl not gonen investigate?? also why hide it anyway?? if its supposed to be a monument to the sonau why the fuck would you built stuff to HIDE the information from it?? gan cant reach it anyway bc hes KINDA STUCK
you are telling me the group of people with a vision of the future and high tech stuff that are famously obsessed with the stars and sky didnt see any of the sonau shit floating around there?? ohoho but it was hidden by magic uwu WHY
bc you wanted to wait thousands of years for the "right" link to come around?? so you let thousands of people suffer and die just bc you wanted a specific guy? why not the ancient hero instead?? and solve the problem right then and there?? or would that mess too much with the history all of the sudden, you didnt care about messing anythign else up before either
its all just so messy if you start to think even a little bit about whatever the fuck happened in totk and i ahte it, it solves stuff that didnt need solving, ignores or even erases stuff that didnt need erasing and was all ready to go and be more explored, its infuriating
(also additional thought about the previous rant where i mentioned how characters, esepcially zelda, regress HARD in chaarcter development)
someone mentioend this about link and ... YEAH, in botw the main thing was the connection between link and zelda, how they didnt like each other at first and at the end were THE brotp; in totk, aside from zelda mentioning how strong link is, theres nothing, the link that was revealed in botw to only be so silent and expressionless (not fully but like supressing everythign rly) bc of the immense pressure that was put on him is now just the most importanest sword guy who didnt even shed a tear when you get the memories of zelda basically killing herself; or did he know she will just be returned to normal with no harm or memory done no problemo in the end??
i dont WANT link to talk mind you, i never want to hear him talk tbh, i like him being mostly silent aside from his grunts when he climbs a cliff or soothes a horse (i go non verbal in high stress situations too) but you could have shown him be affected by it at all, or idk DO ANYTHIGN WITH THEIR RELATIONSHIP they are best friends whod die for each other but that doesnt actually matter in anything bc he just do what sword man does-
#ganondoodles talks#zelda#totk#ganondoodles rants#it really is a replacement for botw isnt it#might as well not have happened
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I saw your request were open and got super excited so here’s my request it’s kind of long so I hope you don’t mind
So the idea is that the beast people have mates and you can feel your partner through the bond and it’s not obvious or some kind of communication link, but you can feel that they’re there, and when you see them you know that’s your mate, like that’s who you’re meant to spend your life with. But Leona has never been able to feel the other side of the bond like he was supposed to. And that was just one more thing his brother had that he didn’t. And then all the sudden one day he can feel some thing on the other side of his bond (when the prefect is magically, transported to twisted wonderland) And when he finally see them he know that they are his mate
And congrats on 2.7
❋ We finally meet ❋
↳ Leona finally meeting his soulmate
feat: Leona
genre: hurt/comfort, open happy ending(?)
note: no pronouns used with the reader, Leona is an emotionally constipated jerk (I’m sorry), follows game-canon storyline through Book 3
I genuinely did not think this would be as sad as I thought, but Leona… he got some issues… and I have met people like him which I actually took inspiration from…so I really am sorry. I still hope you enjoy it
2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023
Just like many things, Leona grew to give up on this fated partner drivel. The world kept screwing him over, so it’s better to not bother with trying, right?
Until now…
The fateful orientation at NRC occured. Leona awoke from his nap as he sensed a new warm sensation in his chest, as though his entire being was burning with excitement.
Leona knew it, the moment he saw you. He didn’t have to ask or second guess this primal instinct. The spark burst in his chest as the beastman watched you stumble about in this new world, his world. The beastly side within him roared within, finally meeting his fated partner.
Leona was…angry. He truly wouldn’t be happy at first. Leona was fine not having the bond after so long, but he has to accept that he does now? Not once did Leona feel the pull of a bond or even a spark of such a feeling as described by those lucky b*stards. Was he supposed to forget all about his feelings of frustration when he as a beastman couldn’t feel this so-called bond that was so natural to others.
What frustrated Leona more was that you weren’t a beastman, you weren’t even a person of this world. You probably never had to go through the bitterness as he did, seeing his brother and so many others find their fated mate so easily while he couldn’t even comprehend what that could feel like.
He knew it wasn’t in your control, but he wasn’t going to be alright with this convenient bullsh*t of a happy ending.
The lion ignored you, he wanted nothing to do with you. He fought against his very instincts because he refused to have expectations anymore. So what if you were his fated mate? It’s too much of a bother to take care of a clueless herbivore.
But alas, Leona sometimes couldn’t stop himself as he gave into his natural connection with you. Despite meddling in his schemes, he felt no hate towards you, even when he tried to. When you needed a place to stay after being kicked out from Ramshackles, he surprised even himself to let you stay in his room.
Sometimes he growls at you, but then keeps you close like a protective guard. Leona feigned indifferent to your attempts to befriend him, but just as those annoying beastmen b*stards said, he felt drawn to you as though his world became weightless with your presence.
This complicated story finally reached its crescendo when you couldn’t handle this confusing hot-and-cold game, breaking down in front of him.
“Do you hate me, Leona?”
You found Leona in his usual napping spot in the greenhouse, because of course he would be there. Sometimes, he would grumble and tell you to leave him in peace. But on rare occasions, the beastman would roll to his side as the two of you enjoy each other’s company, sometimes in silence, other rarer times bantering.
But that was the problem.
“I don’t know what to do,” you steeled your voice with all your might but the cracks in your tone exposed the raw frustration you were feeling. “Sometimes you treat me so well and I feel really safe with you, but then other times I feel like you resent my very existence!”
You felt it too. Since you came into this strange world, you’ve seen and experienced things you once thought inconceivable. It took a while but you will through your new life and you were actually having fun in this loony situation. Except, whenever you saw Leona...
“Some days, all I could think about is you.” You confessed in tears, embarrassment be damned. “I want to be around you, like I feel this pull to be by your side. I feel so happy when I’m with you, but it tears me apart whenever you act like you can’t stand me.”
To be rejected by your soulmate is akin to getting a part of your heart being crushed, that connection between the two of you is tearing at the seams and along with it, a piece of yourself. You were going insane as a part deep inside you was begging to stay with the stubborn beastman, but was all this pain really worth it?
“What can I do?” Do you let him go, or fix whatever is wrong with this relationship? You didn’t care what you had to do, you just wanted this pain to finally leave you. “Tell me, Leona. Anything”
But Leona didn’t say a word. His piercing green eyes just watched you, showing no hint of his thoughts. The only betrayal of his unreadable expression was the way his eyebrows furrow as he saw your tear-stricken face and your body shaking from pained rage.
The beastman’s body was still, before he sighed as he lost his internal fight with his primal instincts. His arm reached out to you, pulling your shaking body towards him as he forced you to lay under the shady tree, pushing your head that - to his annoyance - fit so perfectly under his chin, resting atop his shoulder.
“I’ll explain later. For now, sleep. You’re a mess” you wanted to hit him, argue whose fault it was for all this. But your body felt compelled to curl into this insufferable man’s warmth. His scent irritatingly eased your frustrations as his arm warped around you almost protectively, almost like you were something precious to him.
“You’re awful, Leona” you let out a last stab at the senior before surrendering to sleep. Leona smirked sardonically, not the least bit angered by your weak attempt at an insult, even without being overwhelmed by the feeling the sensation of satisfaction having his fated beloved finally in his arms.
“I am, huh?”
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#disney twisted wonderland#twst imagines#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland imagines#leona kingscholar#twst leona x reader#leona x reader#2.7k followers event
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dev's masterlist {joel miller}
I've somehow expanded my writing enough to warrant a whole separate masterlist for the one and only Joel Miller! He's so diverse and there are so many facets to his character, so it's been fun to explore writing for him. ♡
Keep in mind my blog and online spaces are strictly 18+
Each fic has its own masterlist post with links to chapters, warnings, and supplemental content!
Happy reading! ♡
main masterlist || ko-fi
*Series / Multichapter Fics:
Title: return the favor
Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader
Word Count: 128k
Status: work in progress
Summary: With a past as rich as anyone in the times after the Outbreak, you find your medical and survival skills to be a valuable asset.You were dropping off some medical supplies that FEDRA was willing to pay big for when you got tangled up in a mission that involves a teenager with a mouth almost as smart as yours and gruff older man whose graying curls were his only redeeming quality. But the longer you traveled with them and the more that happened out in the open land of what once was, the more you find yourself connecting with them and wanting to protect them both at any cost.
ao3 link || series masterlist
Title: garnish
Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader (a restaurant au)
Word Count: 50k + additional one shots
Staus: complete
Summary: Summer is a time of fun and carefree days for those who are fortunate enough to not work within the food industry. You however have found yourself back in that world and so long were the days you could spend doing nothing. Along with the shift back to a world you once left behind is the figure of Joel Miller, who is as magnetizing as he is irritating that is now a part of your daily life.
ao3 link || series masterlist
Title: by the grit of sandpaper
Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x F! Reader (Artisan! Joel Miller x F! Reader
Word Count: 44k
Status: work in progress
Summary: Joel Miller is a gruff as they come, the world having changed him for the worst. But settling in Jackson with his brother changed him for the better. He's known around town as someone to help, whether it be with home repairs, construction, and hand carved trinkets. An offhand comment from you inspires him to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed with the man that had just begun to expand beyond patrols.
ao3 link || series masterlist
*One Shots:
Title: for the record
Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader
Word Count: 6.2k
Summary: The longer, more dangerous patrol routes around Jackson are designated to you and one Joel Miller. You both have an understanding with each other, talking wasn’t the biggest concern for either of you, but being confident in each other was. He wasn’t a bad friend in your scavenged life, but then again you were beginning to think you didn’t want to be just his friend…and that’s got you more than a little sexually frustrated.
ao3 link || fic masterlist
*Construction Corner:
(hehe see what i did there?) The fics listed here are currently {under construction} and have no release date as of yet.
Title: gone to the dogs
Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader
Summary: What happens when the world ends in such a violent way that it robs you of your very humanity? Do you submit or raise your hackles and fight back? The answer is obvious to Joel Miller, known for being someone to not to cross even in the most dangerous corners of the Boston QZ. The answer is obvious to you, too, who transformed in his likeness.
ao3 link || series masterlist
#dev writes#fic: return the favor#fic: garnish#fic: for the record#fic: by the grit of sandpaper#fic: gone to the dogs#tlou#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic#joel miller one shot#joel miller series#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#chef! joel miller#boston qz! joel miller#jackson! joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fandom
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Delta Landscaping
Chapter 1: Welcome to Torrey Hills
It's here.
Series Summary: In this Triple Frontier AU, the boys start a landscaping business post-Colombia.
Series Masterlist
Chapter Summary: As much as we want to get to the thirst, there is some setup we need to do.
A/N: I first have to thank the amazing @goodwithcheese because, without The Layover, this idea would not have come to life. This entire concept was born from a scene in one of her chapters.
This AU stays true to cannon in some aspects (Tom is dead y'all) and not in others (the boys kept some of the money and Frankie does not have a kid). There is a main storyline, but also opportunities for extras/drabbles/asks … maybe a guest post or spin-off? I've included some Easter eggs and jokes throughout, some more obvious than others. From its conception this has been a group project, so let’s keep that energy going!
Finally, a big thank you to @gemmahale (our Technical Supervisor for all things plants and protective wear) and @trulybetty (the creator of our logo) for listening to my ramblings and for their advice and encouragement along the way! @patti7dc also contributed a hilarious idea for a commercial that had me cracking up.
Ok enough of my rambling, on with the show…(I hope you like it!)
There's something kind of magical about when an idea finally comes together in your mind. Different thoughts, images, and words swim around in your head, some of them unconsciously, until they finally coalesce in the depths of your brain and bubble up. Going from abstract to clear and defined.
Benny had been grappling with forming an idea for months. It was right there, he could feel it. But it frustrated him because it never came together the right way.
Nine months earlier
In the immediate aftermath of Colombia, the Delta Force boys tried to process what happened, each in their own way. Santiago took off for a few months traveling on his own, finding solace in discovering new places. Frankie came back with a renewed focus to get his life together, talking to a therapist Will recommended to him and going to weekly meetings. The more quiet and reserved one of the group, Will continued to find ways to help other veterans. He volunteered at the local VA and shuttled veterans to and from medical appointments. He found driving to be soothing for him – having a set path, a direction to go in, and accomplishing something. Sometimes his passengers wanted to talk, sometimes they didn’t. He was comfortable either way.
And then there was Benny. He needed to keep his body in motion to try and silence the whirl that went on in his head. Fighting helped. He continued training, getting booked for local fights in Tampa, sometimes making it over to Orlando or as far as Jacksonville. At first, it helped him numb some of the pain. He felt like dealing with physical injuries was easier than his mental or emotional ones.
When he wasn't fighting or training, he found himself returning to a love he had as a kid – drawing. At first, he didn't really draw anything in particular, just doodles. But eventually, his doodles started to form beautiful landscapes and vistas…pulling inspiration from places he had seen during his time in the service. The activity brought him a sense of calm, using his hands to concentrate and make something. It didn't have to be perfect or beautiful, it just was.
Months passed and the guys just sort of existed in this newfound reality. None of them really talked about Colombia to each other, leaving the hurt and pain largely unspoken. Benny, Will, and Frankie would see each other often throughout the week. Santiago would FaceTime occasionally depending on where he was in the world. Although the guys kept some of the money from their mission, none of them had really spent it. Benny never did end up buying that Ferrari.
One day while driving back home to the apartment he shared with his brother, Will decided to take a detour to drive through a few different neighborhoods. He and Benny tossed around the idea of buying a house together, even going so far as visiting some open houses together to check things out.
This neighborhood, Torrey Hills, was particularly beautiful, with a palm tree-lined entrance and expansive water fountain greeting you on the drive in. Will aimlessly drove around taking in the Mediterranean-style architecture. Lots of two-story homes, stucco and white brick, raw iron and metalwork. There were some ranch-style homes sprinkled throughout as well. He noticed one in particular that had a for sale sign – 319 Mulefall Court.
Parked on the street, he grabs his phone to do some quick research. He checks on the price of the house first, a lot lower than he was expecting just based on the looks of the neighborhood, which he confirms once he looked up some recently sold homes nearby.
"What's wrong with you?" He mumbled toward the house, wondering why it was valued so much lower than everything around it.
The housing market in Tampa was pretty competitive, something Will and Benny had already realized. Oftentimes by the time they found a house they both liked it was already under contract or had multiple offers. They conveniently kept the fact that they could pay cash for literally any house they wanted from their realtor; they wanted the house they chose to be special.
Will continued looking over the specs of the house. Four bedrooms, two and a half baths. Two-car garage. Pool. Pretty spacious backyard from the photos and from what he could see from the street. A beautiful, old oak tree in the front yard. He noticed there weren't too many photos of the interior of the house or much of a description.
Normally, he would text a listing to Benny to get his thoughts, but this time he went straight to calling the realtor’s number on the sign. The realtor, Ethan, picked up and was a bit surprised someone wanted to talk to him about that property. It had been sitting for a couple of months without an offer, so Ethan was eager to set up a showing for the next day.
When he arrived home, Will saw Benny sitting at their kitchen table, head down over his notebook with a pencil in hand.
“Hey man, what’re you doing?”
“Nothing just got an idea for something,” Benny said, not looking up.
Will heads to the refrigerator to pull out a beer, grabbing one for his brother as he goes to sit down in the chair across from him.
“D’you have a good day?” Benny asks, putting down his pencil and grabbing the beer from Will.
“Yea, Mr. Jacobs seems to be doing better.” Will pauses to take a swig of his beer. “So…I saw a house today.”
“What?”
“Well, from the outside. I have a showing tomorrow morning if you want to go.”
“Yea, where is it?”
“You know that Torrey Hills neighborhood? It’s in there.”
“Wooo, that neighborhood is nice! Are you sure you want to go all fancy?”
“It is a nice neighborhood for sure, it seems quiet. This place looks like it needs … some work.”
“How much work?” Benny is a bit skeptical of what his brother may be getting them into, but trusts that Will wouldn’t do anything too rash.
“It’s going to be a project.”
“A project?
“Yea. The house has been sitting for a couple of months,” he said as he fished out his phone from his back pocket, pulled up the listing, and handed it over to Benny. “Look, I figure we go in and take a look to see how bad it is. You know how much shit we built with Dad back in the day. We can even call Joel to see if he thinks it's doable for us to fix it up ourselves.”
Benny looks up from the phone and gives a little smile as he hands the phone back, “Sure, man. Sounds good.”
Will and Benny could buy any house. But rather than buy something brand new, they wanted to buy a house they knew needed a lot of love and care. They wanted little projects they could work on, either together or by themselves.
As the guys walked through the threshold of the house with Ethan in tow, they realized they may be biting off more than they can chew with this place.
“Shit, how long has this place been empty?” Benny asks as he looks around.
“Well, the house was built in the ’90s and had the same owner for about 20 years before it became an Airbnb,” Ethan said as leaned on the kitchen counter. “Then, some guy bought it, trying to do some real HGTV-type shit in here. Bought it before the pandemic, but didn’t realize how much work goes into a complete flip, you know? It’s not like the TV shows. Anyway, he ended up getting in over his head with it and then the foreclosure happened. He left the place an absolute goddamn mess,” he gestured around. “The neighbors have been on my ass to get this place sold. The curb appeal is kind of bringing down the block.”
Will quietly walks around the living room, his mind working through logistics. He comes into the kitchen where Benny was checking out the cabinets and appliances.
“Ethan, can you give us a minute?”
“Yea sure, I’ll be out in the backyard, y’all take your time,” Ethan said as he attempted to open the glass door leading out to the back porch. Struggling, he decided to head back out to the front door and unlock the fence to the backyard.
“So, what do you think?” Will asked, arching his eyebrows.
“Psh, I don’t know man, this is kind of a shit hole, right?”
“Yea, but like … we could do this. Maybe get Fish to come over and we can demo the inside. Start from scratch?”
“We should call Joel.”
Their cousin was a contractor in Texas, so he would be able to give them his honest opinion of whether or not they could do this. They ended up calling him on FaceTime so he could see what they were dealing with.
“I mean, it’s not gonna be easy or quick, but I think y’all could do it,” his low Southern drawl reverberating in the empty living room. “Plus, when you’re all done I can come out and inspect it for you. Sarah has been bugging me about taking her to Disney,” he laughed.
“Oh hell yea, that would be awesome!” Benny lit up starting to see how it could all come together based on Joel’s suggestions.
Will hadn’t seen his brother get this excited about something in a while.
“Ok, Joel. We’ll talk to you soon … tell Tommy and Sarah we say hi.”
“Later guys.”
Hanging up and looking back at Benny, who still had a smile on his face, Will clears his throat.
“So, what do you think? Should we do it?”
“You already know what I’m going to say!”
“Alright, let’s go talk to Ethan,” Will says motioning to the front door.
Coming out of the front door, they head out around the right side of the house, picking their feet up high to walk through the overgrown grass and weeds.
“This fence looks a little rough,” Benny observed, jiggling one of the loose boards.
“Hey, stop that! Don’t fucking pull it out.”
“....that’s what she said?” Benny laughs.
Will rolls his eyes, slapping his brother on the chest. “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.”
As they head back, they notice the pool. Ethan was standing at the edge looking at his phone. He hears them traipsing through the overgrowth and turns around, “Hey guys, what do you think?”
“Well, it’s going to need a lot of work, that’s for sure, but, we want to make an offer.”
“Shit, really? I mean … cool. Yea ok, I’ll draw something up and send it over.”
Giving them both a handshake, the men start to walk back to the front. Benny pulls out his phone taking a few photos of the backyard and the front as they make their way back to Will’s Jeep.
Ethan gives them one final wave before pulling out of the driveway and heading out.
Will and Benny walk up to the driveway and give one final look at the house, Benny snapping a few more photos. They hear someone clear their throat behind them. Turning around they see a woman, around their age, walking a corgi.
“You guys going to buy that?” she nodded towards the house.
“Uh, yea we’re thinking about it,” Will said cautiously while Benny bounded past his brother to crouch down to pet the dog.
“Aw man, I love corgis!”
“Ha, thanks, he loves people so you’re making his day. My name is Megan, that's Bucky.” She extended her hand to shake Will’s first, looking down at Benny who got back up. Removing his backward baseball cap and putting it in his left hand to shake her hand.
“I live over there, the blue two-story with the basketball hoop,” she says pointing over to a house a few doors down and across the street.
“Do you play basketball?” Benny asks, reaching back down to give the dog some belly scratches.
“No, but my son does.” She reaches up to brush some hair out of her face and the boys both notice the huge diamond on her finger.
“What’s the neighborhood like?” Will could tell it was a nice neighborhood, but still wanted to do the proper reconnaissance.
“Oh, it’s pretty quiet. A few families, but some singles as well,” she eyes them both up and down. “You have some nice neighbors on both sides of you. We’ve been trying to have more events together, block parties, and stuff. Hopefully, you boys can fix up this piece of shit and we can all come over,” she smiles tilting her chin up at the house.
“Yea, well that’s the goal.” Benny looked up smiling, continuing to play with the dog.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you around hopefully.” She waves and continues her walk.
Later that night, Will was sitting in the living room playing some zombie video game when he noticed Benny head back over to his chair at the dining room table, notebook, and pencil in tow. Except this time Benny had some colored pencils with him too. Will saw his brother prop up his phone, using it as a reference for whatever he was drawing. A small smile on his face as he got to work.
The next month was busy getting everything together with the realtors. During that time, Santiago returned from his travels, wanting a bit more stability than the nomad life. He and Frankie had been helping the brothers pack.
Closing day comes and before they go in to sign the papers, Will pulls out his phone.
WILL: Headed in now to close on the house…should have the keys by 5. You guys want to come over and check it out?
FRANKIE: Yea, Pope and I can head over after I get out of work.
BENNY: Sweet, see you guys later. Bring beer!
“Goddamn, my fucking hand hurts,” Benny puts his pen down and massages his hand. “I didn’t realize we had to sign so much shit.”
“What did you think, we would sign one paper? We’re buying a house.” Will chuckles.
The boys waited approximately one day before fully starting Operation Bachelor Pad, as Benny put it. Will continued to lean on Joel’s advice about what materials to buy and avoid and techniques to use. Joel even sent them a new set of power tools as a housewarming gift.
The sweltering weather made working outside on the yard a bit of a hassle, but one of Will’s first orders of business was to clean up the front so it wasn’t such an eyesore to the neighbors. Between the four of them, they were able to knock it out rather quickly. Will mowed the grass, while Frankie meticulously edged. Being the tallest of the group, Benny worked on pulling leaves out of the gutters with Santi’s help. They pulled weeds and removed a couple of dead shrubs. When they were all done, the boys sat in some folding chairs in the driveway drinking from their bottles of water.
“It’s so fucking hot out,” Frankie said as he took his hat off, wiped his forehead and combed his hair with his hand, before returning his hat to his head.
“How am I this sweaty?” Benny grunted as he peeled off his T-shirt, resting it on the back of his chair.
“What, you trying to give a show to all of the housewives?” Santiago teased him.
“Fuck off, it’s hot. If the pool wasn’t such a goddamn disaster I would jump in there,” Benny laughed.
Will looked up and saw Megan walking towards them holding a basket.
“Hey boys,” she smiled.
“Hey Megan,” Will got up, meeting her at the front of the driveway. “What’s this?”
“Where’s the corgi?” Benny yelled. Will turns around to glare at him. “Just kidding, hi Mrs. Megan!”
“Oh my god, Benjamin, please do not call me Mrs. It makes me feel old,” she chuckles. “Here, I wanted to bring something by, not sure how stocked your fridge is yet and I saw you had some friends over.” She nodded to the group behind Will.
Handing over the basket, Will sees she had arranged a few bottles of water and Gatorade, along with some homemade cookies and a gift card to a pizza place.
“Wow, thank you, this is so nice,” Will smiled. By this point, Benny had walked up to see what was in the basket too.
“Nice, this is awesome!” he said, pulling out one of the cookies and stuffing it in his mouth. He noticed Megan giving him a quick up and down, so he stood a little taller. “This is fucking amazing. Are you a cook or something?”
“Baker. And no, not professionally or anything. I just dabble.”
“Well, you can dabble with us anyti-” he chokes as Will hit him in the side of the stomach. “Shit. I, uh, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry,” he looked down bashfully.
“I know what you meant, all good,” she laughs. “Well, I should be heading out.”
“See ya later!” Benny waved, grabbing one more cookie from the basket before bouncing back towards the chair.
“So, are all of your neighbors hot?” Santiago asked with an arched eyebrow. “May need to move in here myself.”
“Fuck off, Pope. She’s nice. She’s actually one of the first people that has come by to say anything.”
It was so fucking hot outside. Florida summers were no joke. As a result, the boys used the next few months to completely renovate the inside of the house. They installed new countertops in the kitchen, laid down hardwood floors, upgraded nearly every appliance or fixture in the place, and fixed the glass sliding door to the back porch. As the months went on, the house became a source of their collective pride and joy; they reveled in their handiwork.
Megan would come by every so often to say hi. She introduced the guys to a few other neighbors and it felt like they were starting to develop a home base. Even though Frankie and Santiago didn’t officially live there, they may as well because they were over all the time, even when Will and Benny were gone.
As the weather got cooler, by Florida standards, the boys decided to focus on the outside of the house.
One day as they were sitting around watching a football game on a lazy Sunday, Benny got up and headed out of the living room with a purpose.
“Where the fuck is he going?” Santiago looked over the couch to where Benny ran off to.
“Who knows, the kid has been really focused on something and I don’t know what it is,” Will said.
“Ok! I got it!” Benny ran back into the room with his notebook and a pencil in tow.
The other three looked at him with confused looks.
“I’ve been thinking about what to do with the yard, but I think I finally figured it out. This was the missing piece.” He quickly scribbled some things down and turned his notebook around.
“What are we supposed to be looking at Ben?” Will asked, confused and trying to read what Benny’s chicken scratch said.
“Ok, look,” Benny sat in the middle of the couch, Will and Frankie on either side and Santiago came over to sit on the back of the couch, looking over his shoulder.
“Let’s start in front. We need to replace the fence on both sides and put in a swing gate, that’s easy. I’m thinking we do some flower beds here in the front. I haven’t decided what kind of flowers yet. But leading from the front porch over to the fence we’ll put some flagstone pavers down. Yea, I think that’ll look nice. Oh, and a couple of planted pots here in the front,” he motioned to circles he drew on either side of the door.”
He keeps rambling as the other three look at each other, Benny oblivious to them.
“Oh and then on the left side of the house, I’m thinking some permeable pavers so that the water can drain, will help us not have standing water to avoid excess mosquitos and algae and shit. That side of the fence is bigger so we can easily get the lawn mower into the backyard that way and not fuck up the grass as much.”
Moving the paper closer, he points to the left side of the paper. “Ok, so once we get into the backyard, I think we line it with some raised flower beds. Near the pool, we’ll have some more perennials. We’ll add some more planted pots on the porch. Maybe some string lights or something.”
“And then this is what finally came together!” he smiled pointing to the back right of his drawing. “I think … wait for it … we build a gazebo thing.”
“Isn’t that called a pergola?” Santiago asked.
“Same shit. They’ll be a structure back there. With some shrubs up to the fence line. We can put a palm tree out there, some more flagstone pavers, and then we include a little water fountain in one of the perennial beds here.”
When he finished, he leaned back on the couch and exhaled, pleased with himself and excited that his idea finally came together.
“So that’s what you’ve been working on, huh?” Will smirked.
“Yea man, I … I don’t know. Ever since we came here for the first time I had this … vision. Like, I could see it, but I couldn’t. So I’ve been working on different designs.” Benny paged through his notebook showing numerous mockups of their backyard.
“Holy shit, Ben, that’s awesome,” Frankie looked over at Benny. “But what if you put a grass bed over here by the utilities.”
“Yea … yea, that could work Fish!”
Over the next few weeks, Benny and Frankie continued to tinker with the design, sending Will and Santiago out on Home Depot runs to get things off their list.
As they did working on the interior of the house, they found themselves opening up to each other as they worked, finding that keeping their hands and bodies busy gave their minds time to process.
And they worked hard, completely rejuvenating the look of the house both from the inside and outside, so much so that the neighbors took notice.
Megan was the first to come over to ask if the guys could look at her lawn. Benny made a few easy suggestions, offering to fix it up on weekends. Then another neighbor and another neighbor. Before they knew it, the boys had worked on nearly every house on their block, which helped them get to know everyone.
One night as the boys were hanging out in the backyard, Benny came up with another idea.
"Ok, hear me out," as he opened the cooler to grab beers for everyone.
Frankie was by the grill and turned around to peer over at Benny. "What Benjamin? What job did you sign us up for now?" chuckling as he took a swig of the beer Benny handed him.
"Landscaping."
Cocking his head to the side, Santiago repeats back matter-of-factly, "Landscaping."
"Like what, do it professionally or something?" Frankie laughs.
Benny looks over at Will who was observing, taking it all in.
"Oh come on! Look at what we did with this place," gesturing around to the backyard.
They all had to admit they did a beautiful job with the backyard. It has been almost therapeutic for them, working on this house together.
“We’ve already been doing it! Megan’s lawn. Fish, you had a great idea for Melissa and Derek’s backyard, they fucking loved what you and Pope did with the place. We … we could do this for other people. Figure out how to make shit better.” He pulled his cap off, brushing his hair.
Although the other three had always seen Benny as the little brother, bouncing off the walls with energy, they had to admit he had a newfound focus when it came to the projects around the house. His brain was crawling with ideas. Plus, they were having fun working on projects for their neighbors. They had gotten very close to some of them.
"This could be a legit business for us. I even have a name I came up with. Wait for it…Delta Landscaping!" He beamed, clearly proud of himself and waiting for the guy's reaction.
Next Chapter
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first installment of this series! Seriously thank you to everyone who has sent me a message or a comment in the lead-up to this. I’ve had so much fun interacting with all of you and it has been a bright spot in my days for sure.
Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!!
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The Lonely Cottage in the Woods
(Hi!This is my first time writing a fic in a certain fandom,and it's also my first unique post on my blog,despite being on this site for ages.This fic is inspired by a piece of boatem art by @wasyago )
*
Somewhere,deeps within the forests of the land of Hermitcraft,a small cottage stood.Tall,quiet and proud.
The cottage served as a shop for travelers,people either needing supplies for their journey,or advice on where to go next.The cottage never had a shortage of visitors in Hermitcraft,what with all the creative and determined minds that dwelled the land.
But the cottage also served as an Inn,and was proudly stated on the sign that was nailed to the front of the house for all to see-'Scar's Spectacular Shop and Inn!'
The problem though,was that nobody ever wanted to stay the night at the cottage.They would always buy the supplies and take the information that they needed,and then leave.Leaving the owner of the cottage with a heavy heart and an even heavier silence.
The man who resided in the cottage was a cheery,happy man,who lived in an incredibly silent house.He was always willing to help people on their journeys,whether it be to help them clean their wounds,or point them in the right direction.But they never stayed.They just got what they wanted and left the lonely man,in the cottage that was beginning to feel too big for him.
The man's name was Scar Goodtimes,and he's lived in his travelers shop for years now.But as the years passed,Scar wished more and more,that some people would linger at the cottage,for just a day or two.Even though Scar was quick to get over it, some sad thoughts would worm its way to the forefront of his mind.
Like how the table looked too big with just one plate of food.
Like how the house looked too clean for his liking,no clutter to be found.
Like how there was a lack of life in the house.
Bur Scar understood.Really,he did.A lot of people wouldn't be quick to trust a lone man in a forest and stay the night.Stranger danger and all that.But then he'd hear other things when people thought he couldn't hear their whispers.
Yes,true to his name,fading scars littered across his body,not an inch to be spared.There was even a large and obvious scar that slashed across the middle of his face,which he knew people ogled at,but he didn't mind.
What he did mind,were the rumours about how he got the scars.A lot of things he overhead was that he used to be a bloodthirsty arsonist,or a shady criminal who used to run an empire,and they just got more outlandish from there.
Truthfully though,Scar just got into a lot of accidents.
(Though,sometimes,he'll hear those rumors and look down at his arms,and a quiet voice in his head will wish they weren't so visible)
But it's fine.He doesn't mind being in a cottage most of his life.He's got Jellie,his precious cat,and he knows that one day,he'll get used to seeing people not sticking around,and his heart won't twist in pain so much.
*
Knock knock!
The first peculiar man that he meets in a while,was named Impulse.He was large,buff,and had two horns protruding out of his head,with a long tail swishing back and forth behind him,and a sheepish grin on his face.
"Hi!Are you the innkeeper here?"
"Why yes I am!My name is Scar Goodtimes,what can I do for you,good sir?"The man rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he said "Well,I was wandering around, looking for new clients in the area for builds,but I didn't notice the time,and then i saw the sign that this place was an inn,and I'd really like to avoid the mobs,if that's okay."The implied question hung in the air between them,and Scar had to physically stop himself from trying to jump out of his wheelchair.
Someone was asking to stay at his makeshift Inn!Also,the man seemed no casual about it,not a hint of suspicion or distrust in hid voice whatsoever.This completely normal offer meant so much more than Impulse would ever know.So,with an excited grin,Scar happily said "Make yourself at home!"
Which Impulse certainly did.He was respectful of his house and of Jellie,most importantly.He got settled in,and during dinner,they talked about Impulse's plans and what his goals were after today.
Impulse was quite a hard-working demon,always looking for the next farm or building to create,for others to use.He has recently just finished working on a massive factory,that had been given to a town to use itself.He was just wandering around now,waiting for the next client to build for.
Scar was very impressed with Impulse's driven nature,but when he asked a certain question,the relaxed smile fell off his face and confusion replaced it instead.
Scar had simply asked "Have you ever built something for yourself?"
That question-hit different to Impulse.His tail flicked back and forth in agitation the longer he couldn't answer,but the silence pretty much answered for him.No.He's never build anything purely for his own benefit.
Scar was quick to brighten the mood and patted his shoulder comfortingly as he said "Hey,it's okay if you haven't.Besides,you have all the time in the world to build whatever your heart desires.Just make sure I can see it when it's done."He said that last part jokingly,not expecting it to have such a weight on Impulse's heart.
Impulse didn't leave the next day.Instead,he walked up to him that morning,fiddling with his tail nervously,the complete opposite of the cheerful man he was yesterday and asked "Is it okay if I stay here for a few more days?I...might have to make a change of plans for myself."
He didn't elaborate,but he didn't need to as Scar immediately blurted out "Yes!Of course!"feeling joy return to his heart.So just like that,the cottage in the forest wasn't lonely anymore.
Impulse was a very nice addition to Scar's life.He would talk with Scar all day long and play with Jellie,and help around the house without complaints.He sometimes even brought a fresh perspective on some of Scar's own projects,making some redstone suggestions.Hewould check up on Scar if he was feeling down (a first for him) and make sure that he was happy and laughing all day.It was such a welcome change,and it may still just be two people in a big cottage,but Scar was just happy to hear another voice through the walls from time to time.
Scar didn't comprehend the hole that Impulse had started to fill in his heart,until he saw blueprints and papers scattered about on the table one day,and at the top of the paper,was titled-Personal Build! Then he knew that he had done something right.
*
"Um,Scar?There's someone sleeping on the front porch."
The second odd person that Scar met,didn't even come to the cottage on purpose.
Scar rushed to the door and yanked it open,only to find a young woman,sure enough,sleeping outside the cottage,her back against the doorframe.Her head kept dropping forehead as she slept,a curtain of brown hair blocking her face.
She didn't look injured in any way,but that didn't mean she wasn't in danger.Scar bit his lip,unsure of how to go about this,but then he heard Impulse walk up behind him and softly called out "Hey,ma'am?Ma'am,are you okay?"
Thankfully,that was enough to wake her as she groaned,rubbing her eyes lazily,sitting up properly,and Scar had to force himself to be patient before launching into questions.
The woman got her bearings together pretty quickly though,yawning as she looked them both in the eye.But when she did,Scar's mouth dropped slightly in awe.Both her eyes had a background of a dark void,almost like a night sky,and within them,a twinkling star in the center of her right eye,and a crescent moon in her left.
"Good morning,gentlemen."were the first things she said,her voice holding nothing but chipper positivity,as if this was a normal occurrence."It's actually almost midnight."Impulse nervously corrected,probably not equipped for a situation like this,but Scar definitely was,used to being friendly with all types of people,and this lady was no different.
"Well,nonetheless,hello to you too.My name is Scar and this is my friend Impulse."The woman smiled brightly,sticking her hand out "It's nice to meet you both too.You can call me Pearl."Scar gladly shook her hand,and was surprised to find her hands just as calloused as his own."I hope you don't mind me asking but are you-okay?You're not hurt are you?Or in any sort of danger?"
Pearl shook her head,the bell on her sleeping hat jingling loudly in the night.She crossed her legs,still sitting on the porch,and replied "Oh,no,I am perfectly fine and safe,you don't have to worry about me."but then Impulse asked in worry and confusion "But then why were you sleeping on the porch?"
At his question,Pearl's shoulders slumped and her smile shrunk,but still appeared happy as she explained "Well,I was simply living my life,far across the land from here,building farms and being self-sufficient,but then a few days ago,I kinda started to feel-bored.There was nothing new to do and I didn't really have friends to talk to,and in those moments, I tend to just look up at the night sky."then she did exactly that,and Scar copied her, watching as the stars glistened in the sky.
There was now a fondness in Pearl's voice as she continued "I always had a bad habit of letting the moon and the stars drift me away,but this time,I felt like I was being pulled towards something,so I let myself be taken away by the night,and I guess I ended up here."Pearl then shrugged,done with her story and seemingly content with her current position.
It was certainly a story,but Scar felt like she was telling the truth,if her constant beaming smile at the moon was anything to go by.He turned to look behind him,and saw Impulse giving her a small smile back,with a glint of something familiar in his eyes.One shared look between them and they were on the same page.
"Well then Pearl,this cottage also acts as an Inn,so wouldn't you rather gaze at the night sky from inside a warm house,with nice food and fluffy blankets to accompany you?"Pearl glanced down at her lap as she muttered "That does sound nice."There was a minute of silence as Pearl contemplated the offer,and Scar was beginning to worry that she'd say no,but what was she going to do then?Keep walking aimlessly while staring at the moon,with no sense of direction whatsoever?Scar wasn't so sure why he was getting so stressed over a stranger.A part of him said that it was because he was still lonely,but that was ridiculous,he had Impulse now,so his loneliness should be fixed,right?
Maybe he was still lonely,or maybe it was something deeper,something that came from his core,like how Pearl said that the moon was guiding her towards something.Either way,Scar really hoped she would stay.
Pearl hadn't answered yet,and she now had a look of frustration on as she seemed to be arguing with herself,until Impulse spoke up and said "Pearl,we can assure you that there won't be a dull moment while you're in this cottage."
Then she was sold.
Pearl added a new layer of comfort in Scar's life that he didn't know he needed.She added her own spark of life and colour within the house,and she fit right in with the two of them.
She volunteered to help improve the inside of the cottage,making it appear more lively and appealing, making its previous arrangement look bland in comparison,and Scar didn't even realise how dim it looked.
Pearl still gazed at the moon every night,walking outside and simply staring up at the sky. Sometimes,Impulse and Scar joined her. Sometimes,Scar worried that Pearl would feel another tug and would drift away from them.
But she always came back into the house,even weeks after her arrival,and if Scar noticed that,over time,she spent less time looking at the stars and more time with them,well,that was for him to cherish.
*
The next bizarre event happened a few weeks after Pearl's arrival.
Throughout the day,there was a weird scratching and stomping sound coming from the roof.Impulse said that he would check it out,after he was finished helping Pearl with the redstone machine for their potato crops.
Knock knock!
"I've got it!"Scar called out to his friends in the backyard as he quickly opened the door,expecting another customer.
What he saw instead,was a very tall man,easily over six feet.He wore a clean black suit,which was unusual for travelers.But what was more unusual was the crimson red parasol he held,shielding his pale face and fancy mustache from the sun.He seemed very anxious,twisting the parasol handle, and then Scar noticed that his fingers were covered in a red powder.
When he answered the door,the man took a quick glance at him and then immediately averted his eyes.Scar had the urge to rub the marks on his arms,thinking that they were grossing the stranger out,but then the man stuttered out "U-Um,hello sir."
"Hello to you too.What can I help you with?Do you need supplies for your travels?"The man shook his head and said "Actually,I needed to ask you a question."Scar tilted his head in confusion,but let the man continue.
The stranger tightened his hold on his parasol, trying to gather up some courage,so Scar shot him a soft smile and the man looked stunned at his patience,and that seemed to make him relax enough to speak.
"Have you-um-been hearing weird noises today?" Scar nodded,becoming more curious as to who this man was.Was he an exterminator or something kind of hunter?Surely not,with the attire he had on,nor did he act like he even wanted to be having this interaction.
At his nod,the man sighed harshly,and Scar caught a flash of fangs in his mouth.A vampire,huh?Well that would certainly explain the parasol in broad daylight.
The man began to stammer,his attention much too focused on trying to peer inside his house rather than making a coherent sentence.His eyes were flickering to every corner that wasn't Scar,and when Scar opened his mouth to finally get to the bottom of this,there was suddenly a voice in his left ear yelling "BOO!"
Scar shouted in fright,jumping in his wheelchair as a new voice cackled in his ear.The other man standing before him lost all his nerves as he scolded the new figure "I knew you'd be around here,Grian!Why did you fly off without me?"
Scar panted in shock,a hand on his chest,and looked to the left,finding a man hanging upside down from the porch roof,a wide and cheeky grin on his face.He then dropped,then swooped back up into the air,bright red wings shimmering in the sun. He flew around in the air for a few seconds,circling his friend's head as he replied "Because,Mumbo Jumbo,you slept in and I was bored of waiting for you to wake up."
"I slept in because I was up all night fixing the redstone machine that you broke!"
"Well you shouldn't have left those levers and buttons all over the place!You know I'm weak to them!"
As the tall man,now known as Mumbo Jumbo, sighed tiredly,the new avian friend lowered himself and used his friend's arm as a perch, glancing at Scar curiously.
Oh,these two were trouble,and Scar liked trouble.
The guy that spooked him,Grian,was studying him closely,and Scar was beginning to feel like some sort of prey.He had messy,sandy blonde hair and brown,beady eyes that seemed to stare into his soul.He wore a thick,red jumper,almost matching the colour of his wings,and when Scar looked into his eyes,all he saw was mischief and chaos.
"Listen,I'm really sorry about giving you a fright there.I was just sitting on your roof,messing with Mumbo,and then I heard you talking and just wanted to mess with you a little bit."Grian explained,and Scar obviously forgave him,not that he was angry in the first place.He knew that he was just in the middle of two friends playful banter.
Scar waved him off "No need to apologise,just made my poor heart skip several beats and made my life flash before my eyes."the three men chuckled lightly,then fell into a comfortable silence, which was weird considering that they've only talked for a few minutes.
But then Impulse's voice called out from the back of the house "Hey Scar!Can you lend a hand with this redstone machine?"
"Redstone?"Grian said,eyes drawn to the voices of Pearl and Impulse deep in the house.He suddenly flapped his wings,almost hitting Mumbo's parasol in the process,who grumbled in annoyance and leaned away as Grian floated in the air.
"Mumbo's great at redstone,let him try!"then just straight up flew into the house without a second glance at Mumbo.Scar chuckled as he heard Grian's cheerful voice mixed in with Pearl and Impulse's surprised ones,but Mumbo's harsh sigh brought concern out.
He seemed more relaxed now,from knowing where his friend was,but still seemed stressed as he said "I'm really sorry about him,mate.He kinda just does what he wants,and trouble tends to follow him, along with me I guess.I completely understand if you want us to leave you alone.After all-"Mumbo let a bitter,low laugh out and Scar saw that his eyes were filled with muted anger and pain as he muttered "-not many people take too kindly to our antics."
Scar had already made up his mind the second Grian startled him,but now his heart was set and longed to see what these antics were.So Scar smiled and made way for Mumbo to come in and said "Make yourself at home."
Boy,did they make themselves at home.
Mumbo and Grian were like the last pieces of the puzzle that needed to fit into Scar's empty heart. Mumbo's creative spin on redstone helped the cottage out tremendously,and even when it sometimes didn't work,nobody scolded him,which Mumbo always expected.Mumbo was just as much of a trickster as Grian,poking fun at one another whenever possible,but tended to keep quieter about his hijinks,but slowly,he got louder.
Grian was a hurricane of trouble himself,and Scar,Impulse and Pearl ended up contributing to that chaos more often than not.The avian always had a prank up his sleeve,and everyone always ended up laughing by the end of it.
Grian also loved building things,with beautiful and detailed designs,but he never got around to finishing the back of,for some reason.
He would swoop and glide around in the sky,with grace and with expert precision,as he performed so many different tricks and turns in the air,as if he had been confined to the ground his whole life. Sometimes,Grian would simply perch somewhere and watch as the sun went down,wings relaxed but looking unkempt from a day of flying.
When Scar offered to help preen his feathers and tidy them up (He's seen Mumbo do it countless times) he was surprised when a flash of fear shot through the avian's eyes for a split second,and Scar understood how big of a deal it was when Grian still held his wing out for him without a word.
Impulse.A sweet workaholic.
Pearl.A cheerful night lover.
Mumbo.An anxious genius.
Grian.A pesky prankster.
This was what Scar was missing.A family.
So when one day,months later,if Grian casually brought up needing to get a bigger house to fit all five of them,well,nobody needed to see Scar cry tears of joy,at the fact that his friends were now his home,and not the once lonely cottage that stood in the middle of the woods.
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hello!! 💕💕 first of all, I'd like to say CONGRATS ON THE 1K FOLLOWERS!! honestly your work is so amazing you totally deserve it - reading your work is such a pleasure and such an inspiration, keep up the amazing work, Lui!! 💕💕
okok so now for my request:
may I humbly ask for the love of my life Blade with angst dialogue 10... (please be easy on my heart 💔)
anyways, have a lovely day!! I can't wait to see what you write for this event!! :)
❀ ˎˊ- prompt: "I didn't know where else to go."
❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event
❀ ˎˊ- character: blade
❀ ˎˊ- warnings: angst ofc !! but not too heavy lmao, mentions of blood and injuries, brief mentions of blade's real name
❀ ˎˊ- a/n: AHHHH TY EL !!! UR SO SWEET I KEEP SAYING THIS BUT GRIPS U
Blade muttered a silent curse to himself, clutching at his bleeding arm as he hauled himself through the Xianzhou. Normally, he would've welcomed the injury, but this one didn't seem to be healing anytime soon.
The streets were uncharacteristically silent - something Blade found himself thankful for. It wouldn't do him any good if a civilian, or worse, a Cloud Knight, had found an injured Stellaron Hunter out in the streets.
He hardly paid attention to where his feet were taking him; he didn't care. Anywhere was fine, as long as it was away from the enemy.
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a familiar doorstep. Blade blinked, before cursing himself for his carelessness. He needed to get out of here, quick, before you figured out he was here.
He attempted to walk away, but instantly, his arm flared with pain. Blade hissed, glaring at his arm as if it had done something wrong. His arm did not reply.
He heaved a sigh. He'd love to just leave and treat his wound himself. But where to would he leave? Here, he was on enemy territory. No one would welcome him.
Lost in his turmoil, Blade failed to register the sound of your approaching footsteps. It was when you finally opened the door, and the light of your home cascaded onto him that he stiffened like a deer in headlights.
You looked as young as he remembered you - or rather, as much as he could remember you. Such was the fate of a long-lived species, he mused. Your eyes were wide with surprise, shock, and even fear.
"Yingxing?" you managed out in disbelief.
You took a step back, taking a defensive position. Somewhere, in the depths of Blade's guarded heart, something tightened painfully.
"What are you doing here?"
You tried to sound assertive, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. You were scared, and Blade knew it. He didn't blame you. He was a Stellaron Hunter, after all. Creating fear was part of his job - Kafka was particularly good at it.
Usually, he liked fear. He loved seeing it in the eyes of his enemies, their ego dropping to absolute terror when faced with an opponent far beyond their league.
But with you, something about it made his gut twist, as though something was wrong.
As Blade merely stared at you, conflicting emotions swirling in his eyes, you noticed his arm. His black coat was ripped, revealing the gaping slash wound.
"You're hurt," you stated the obvious. Blade cringed, but nodded.
"I..." he took a deep breath. For a moment, the criminal wanted by the IPC looked nervous, vulnerable. "I didn't know where else to go."
Your gaze dropped. It'd been centuries since you'd last seen Yingxing, or Blade. When you last saw him, he was the blacksmith of the High Cloud Quintet, a hero to the Xianzhou. Now, he was one of its most hated criminals.
If you let him into your home and were caught, you'd surely be arrested for treason.
Blade noticed your conflicted gaze. Despite expecting this result, he couldn't help a pit of disappointment from forming in his stomach. He straightened, hardening his gaze.
"Never mind," he said quietly, turning his back. "I apologize for bothering you."
"Wait."
Your voice stopped him in his tracks. You crossed your arms, wondering to yourself if you were insane, delusional, or perhaps just plain stupid.
"Come in," you sighed, quite honestly disappointed in yourself. "You'll get it infected at this rate."
Very reluctantly and confusedly, Blade followed you into your home. You pointed him to the couch, which he wordlessly sat himself on while you disappeared into another room, presumably to retrieve medical supplies.
His memory is foggy, but there's a sense of familiarity here. He briefly remembered the paintings that are hung up, the ones that you won in a bidding. He recognized the table at which you'd drink tea and discuss your day with him.
Flashes of memory flicker in his mind, but Blade immediately squashed them. He knew that delving into the past would only serve to irritate the mara lying dormant within him.
It wasn't long before you returned, holding a first aid kit and sitting down next to him.
"Can you take off your coat?" you asked. "It'll make things easier."
Blade followed suit, slowly unbuttoning his coat and letting it fall to the couch around him. Bandages were wrapped around his entire torso, while scars of many lives littered his skin like burned reminders.
You reached out a hand - but what for, you didn't know. To console him? To touch his scars, to give him even the slightest of comfort?
But you didn't. No, the relationship you two once had was no more. You no longer had the right to do so.
And so, you opted for bandaging him, cleansing the wound, applying ointment, and wrapping it. You stubbornly kept your eyes on the gash, no matter how much you hated the sight of blood, refusing to look up and meet Blade's burning gaze.
"You can stay the night."
Your mouth moved before your brain did. You almost didn't believe your own words, and immediately you wanted to take them back. Even Blade was shocked by your offer, staring at you as though you've grown a second head.
"But," you quickly added, "you need to be gone by tomorrow morning. I refuse to be arrested because you're found in my home."
Your words stung, but were understandable. Blade closed his eyes, and nodded. You stood up.
"There's an extra blanket and pillows in the closet," you said, packing up the first aid kit. "Goodnight, Yingxing."
"Blade," he corrected quietly. "I lost my right to that name a long time ago."
You were silent for a moment.
"Very well," you finally said. "Goodnight, Blade."
And as you left for your bedroom, leaving the criminal in your living room, you could barely hear the faintest of whispers from your old friend.
"Goodnight, [Name]."
reblogs w comments are appreciated !!
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr#hsr x reader#blade#hsr blade#blade honkai#honkai blade#blade x reader#x reader#reader insert#y/n#archives 🏵️#event 🏵️
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