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mochinek0 · 5 months

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Daminette December 2023: 18-Hiding in the Shadows

Marinette looked around her pent house in Paris. She had everything she wanted as a teenager. Well, almost everything. She was a well-known fashion designer, to the people that were aware of her. She kept her business a secret and used an alias. Her clients all came from judgement on her other clients. Others designers knew her as 'Passion' after her store's brand. Very few knew her as Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Gabriel Agreste, Audrey Bourgeois, and Jagged Stone.

Marinette had enough money to pay her rent, her fabric, all of her equipment, anything a business woman could need. Marinette herself, not so much. She missed being able to walk out and go sit at a café for a bit. When she saw Wayne Enterprise opened a section in Paris, she came up with an idea.

'Wayne Enterprises is a place that usually pays big. Even a part time job should be fine. A little play money couldn't hurt. A few extra euros so I could eat out, get some comfy clothes so I'm not rushing between orders and messing up wouldn't hurt.'

Damian Wayne sat at his desk, looking through potential applicants. Many of them were attached to big names or had one of their own. As he rang background checks, he could see they were all connected to each other in one way or another. He smirked at his idea.

'Let's put on a show. I want to see what kind of people these applicants are around each other. Would they out themselves?'

Mari was escorted to a waiting room as Damian Wayne got through other interviews. When the door opened, the last thing she expected was to see some familiar faces: Chloe, Adrien, and Lila.

"I don't know why you're even here, Dupain-Cheng." Chloe snarled, after the door was closed, "This is a big company that would love to work with our families. You have nothing going for you."

Marinette sat down and smiled, "Is that right? I guess I must have sent the wrong order to your mother and that's why she wore my design down the red carpet at the MET Gala."

Chloe tensed up and refused to meet her gaze. She could tell Adrien and Lila were surprised as well.

Chloe cleared her throat, "You're lying."

"Call your mother and ask." Marinette shrugged, "Oh, that's right! She doesn't like you; she prefers your half sister, who can actually work and living on her own, instead of leeching off of her Daddy."

"This isn't you, Dupain-Cheng." Chloe declared.

"No. This is me." Marinette shrugged off the concerned looks, "I'm just not being forced to coddle you to make Caline Bustier's life easier. 'Oh, just show Chloe some love, so she'll know what it's like and she'll get better eventually. You'll see.' Even she knew you were a horrible person. She basically thought you were The Grinch. That with enough love, your heart would grow three sizes and you wouldn't be such a bitch anymore."

Everyone was speechless at Marinette's attitude. This wasn't the Marinette that they grew up with.

"Chloe Bourgeois." a security voice called.

Chloe held her head high as she walked into the office.

"Damian Wayne." Chloe stated.

"Sit!" he demanded.

Chloe was shocked by his attitude.

'Doesn't he know who I am?'

"Do you know who I am?" she shouted.

"A spoiled brat; Ive read the articles on the internet." Damian stated, "You are known for crying for your father when you don't get what you want. Even though you are the oldest, your half-sister is who your mother relies on to bring customers for Style Queen in New York."

"My father-" Chloe snarled.

"Isn't the mayor anymore. He hasn't been the mayor in three years." the Wayne heir spoke, "If you're thinking of blackmailing me, you chose the wrong person. Spread whatever lies you want or cry to your father, the hotel owner. I could make one post about how horrid his hotel is and he would go out of business. Could you live with that?"

Chloe stood there, speechless. The only person who talked to her like this was her mother.

"I'm in charge, here, and if it came down to it, your job would be scrubbing toilets all day." Damian declared.

Tears formed in Chloe's eyes.

'He's glaring at me, just like Mommy. He doesn't look happy. He looks at me like he wishes I was gone or someone else.'

"We're done here." Damian stated.

Chloe quickly rushed out of the office. The three saw her rushing away, crying.

'I knew she wouldn't last.'

"Marinette, I can't understand why you're like this." Lila spoke, as she took her seat.

'He made that Daddy's Girl cry. I better go at this carefully.'

"Oh, shove it, Lila." Marinette sighed, "All three of us, here, know you're a lying manipulative bitch. You don't have to fake it."

"I don't know-" Lila continued.

"Adrien already told me years ago that he made a deal with you. He made one with me, too. Did he ever tell you that?" Mari questioned.

Lila glanced towards Adrien, who kept his head down.

"Oh, he didn't." she giggled, "You see, I was already designing for Jagged Stone when you arrived to our school. Adrien even had me autograph things I designed for him."

The model had turned towards Adrien and was now glaring at him.

"I could have made your whole 'tinnitus-kitten bullshit' story go up in flames since day one." Mari smiled, "I could have video called him and you would have been labeled as delusional."

"I took all our friends away!" Lila cried out, in victory.

"No." Mari answered, "You took away people, who were finally talking to me. Chleo ensured that for seven years, I had no friends. Those 'friends' just went back to not talking to me. You didn't actually do anything. If anything, you helped me. You took away the class president duties from me and I had more free time. You turned Alya and Nino away, so I couldn't babysit. I designed more clothes and got more clients. You didn't make my life worse, Lila, you made it better."

Lila fumed. Adrien had played peace maker between the both of them. From what Marinette was saying, she could have won the war in an instant! She thought she had chased Marinette Duapin-Cheng out of school all those years ago and here she was smiling, practially laughing at her, saying it wasn't true. She had thanked her and said she made her life better.

'I need this job so I can rub it in her face! I need to win against her!'

"I do hope you at least did some research into Damian Wayne." Marinette stated.

"I've known Damian Wayne since we were children!" Lila announced.

"Is that what it told you, you should say when you looked up how rich his family is?" Mari inquired.

Lila stood up, in rage.

'How dare she!'

"Lila Rossi." security called out.

Lila smirked, "I'm coming."

"She really should have done her research." Marinette spoke out loud.

"Why do you say that?" Adrine asked.

"Lila likes to play off her tears and looks." Mari declared, "Damian Wayne hates going to galas because of girls that try to attach themselves to him."

"And?" Adrien questioned.

"He broke an Italian model's arm two months ago, for lying to him." the designer stated.

Adrien paled at her words. Marinette merely smiled and pulled out her phone and dialed emergency services.

"Hello, what is your emergency?" the voice asked.

"I think we need an ambulance at Wayne Enterprise." Marinette stated, "I think someone's arm is broken."

"Are you with this person?" the voice questioned.

"No." the designer answered.

"I have sent medical to your location." the voice declared, before hanging up.

"That was pretty extreme, Marinette. I have faith in Lila!" Adrien shouted, "I don't think he would do that! The Waynes have an imagine to uphold!"

"Maybe, you should have done your research." Mari shrugged, "You still have time. Maybe five minutes."

Lila sauntered her way into the office.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne." She spoke, calmly.

"Sit." He demanded, not looking up.

Lila waved off his decleration. She moved past the chair in front of his desk and walked her way to his side.

"Can I sit on your lap?" She asked, "You see, I have tinnitus and-"

"There is nothing in here that would activate your tinnitus. Tinnitus is when you can't here anything for a brief amount of time, but a loud ringing. It's usually followed after hearing an extremely loud sound. I should know; I went to medical school." Damian stated.

'Shit. My usual tactics won't work here.'

Lila nodded and made her way back to the seat.

"Why shoud I hire you?" The Wayne heir questioned.

Lila fluttered her lashes, "I'm a model for Gabriel Agreste."

"Former model." Damian interjected, "You now model on Instagram and Only Fans."

Lila turned red. She didn't expect them to aware of her new lifestyle.

"Now, Miss Lerouch-" he continued.

Lila paled, "Wh-What did you call me?"

"Cerise Lerouch." Damian stated, "Did you think I would not delve into your background? I have to know who I am working with."

Cerise quickly leaped up from her seat and rushed around the desk.

"Don't touch me." Damian demanded.

"I'll do anything." Cerise cried out, grabbing onto his arm.

The Wayne heir growled, "Let go."

"I can help you relieve stress in other ways, you know." Cerise pleaded.

Damian grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back, harshly. Cerise screamed in pain.

"I have no need for whores." Damian spoke.

He grabbed the back of her shirt, arm still twisted, and walked her to his office door. He grabbed the knob and threw her out, in front of his security team.

"Drag this whore out by the hair, if you have too, but I want her off Wayne Enterprise grounds and blacklisted!" Damian shouted.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." they spoke simultaneously, as he slammed his door shut.

"Shit, I think her arm is broken." the one on the left declared.

"She would call an ambulance?" the one on the right asked.

"Please, help me! It hurts so much!" Cerise begged, cradling her arm.

"You shouldn't have pissed him off." the one on the right declared, "Damian Wayne isn't one to mess around."

A man rushed towards them with medical workers.

"Did you guys call for an ambulance and someone with a broken arm?" the new guy asked.

"No, but perfect timing." the one on the left stated, "Girl with broken arm right here."

Cerise was walked by the waiting room. Inside, she could see Adrien looked horrified before turning to Marinette. She was smiling at her. Then, the baker's daughter flipped her off.

'She knew! That bitch knew how this would end!'

Cerise burst into tears as she was carted off.

"I guess that just leaves you and me, Agreste." Marinette stated.

Adrien began to feel uncomfortable.

"I do hope you do better than they did." She spoke, "For your Father's sake."

"Huh?" Adrien asked, confused.

"Damian Wayne isn't one to back down, not even to his father. He can make his father bow down to him. You have no idea how......attractive that is to a woman, Adrien." Mari smiled, "A man with a spine."

The model gulped, watching Marinette lick her lips.

"You should grow a spine." she declared, "Maybe then your father won't force you to model for him. I' sure that's why Kagami chose Felix over you. Your cousin has a spine. It looks good on him. Maybe, that's why Kagami didn't take my advice on how to get back with you after the break up."

Adrien only looked at her in shocked.

"Alya told me you broke up and I went to see her." Marinette continued, "I tried to help, but she didn't want to. She said it was better that way and well, Felix and you did look alike as teens. The same face with a spine; kind of hard to resist. They're so happy and their twins are adorable."

"Adrien Agreste, Mr. Wayne will see you now." the voice spoke over the intercom.

The model looked over at the designer. She waved at him, but said nothing. Adrien stood up and stood tall.

Adrien walked into Damian's office. It was intimidating; Marinette was right. He was scarier than his father.

"Why should I hire you, Adrien Agreste?" Damian questioned.

"I hate modeling. I prefer computers and science. I want to break free of Gabriel." Adiren admitted, "You don't have to worry about me telling him anything because I never learned anything about fashion. I couldn't even tell you the names of two different shades of fabric. If anyting, you should hire Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Marinette has always been an amazing designer. She was recognized by Father and Style Queen when she was only thirteen. She's the one who would know everything about fashion."

Damian hid his smirk behind his hand and looked down at the papers about Adrien again.

'What a miracle worker you are, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Agreste grew a spine.'

"We may have an internship available in our science department." Damian spoke, "Do you still live with your father?"

"Yes." Adrien spoke.

"We have a company home we prefer our interns reside in." Damian continued.

He noticed Adrien seemed relieved about that.

"The internship isn't a guarantee." The Wayne heir continued, "We need to see you commitment and dedication first hand. If you can't keep up, we'll put you in a different department. If you keep failing to meet our expectations, you'll have no choice but to keep modeling for your father."

"Tell him we'll work with him for one year, as a test." Damian continued, "You have one year to get your affairs in order. You'll need to move in one month from now and if not, consider the contract cancelled. I will inform them you are expected."

"Thank you." Adrien smiled.

Damian waved him off and Adrine walked out of the office, happy.

Marinette stood up when her name was called. As she walked towards the office, she saw Adrien smiling at a paper. She entered the office and closed the door.

"Please sit Miss Dupain-Cheng." Damian ordered.

Marinette immediately took a seat in front of him.

"Why should I hire you?" He questioned.

Mari shrugged, "You don't really have to."

"Oh?" Damian pushed.

"I'm only here for a part time job." the designer answered, "You know, helping out on the floor, coffee grabber, secretary gig. That sort of thing."

"Excuse me?" he asked, shocked, " Aren't you a fashion designer."

"With my own clients and I can pay for my own things." She smiled.

"Then why are you here?" Damian questioned.

Marinette sat back further in the chair and got comfortable, "Play money. I spend my own on my deisgns, fabrics, equipment, rent. Why not have a little extra to treat myself to a night out or a night in, for once?"

That was not the answer he had been expecting.

Damian laughed, "What if I decide to keep you?"

"Keep me as in?" Marinette pushed.

"I decide I want to become one of your clients." he offered.

"Are you offering?" the designer asked, "I've seen some of those suits you wear to galas and it doesn't bring you out to your full potential."

"And that would be?" he asked.

"You're outshined by your father, your older brothers, and the company." She spoke, "You can stand out, but maybe you want to fade into the back, less people to grope you."

Damian chuckled and stood up from his seat. He made his way around the desk and rested on it.

"What would you dress me in, right now?" Damian questioned.

"Depends." Marinette smiled, "Do you always wear a suit to work or are you interested in a change?"

"Tell me about this hypothetical change." He demanded.

"Ever heard of quick change wear?" She asked.

"No." he replied.

"It mainly takes woman into factor. Clothes that can go from working at the office to going out on a date or partying." Mari answered, "Just a few adjustments and possibly a new shade of makeup and usually people tend to think they took all day to get ready."

Damian took what she said into account, "And for men?"

"Most don't really have the option." Marinette shrugged, "Shame, but on you.....your figure. Well, there's nothing sluttier than a man wearing a sleeveless turtleneck."

The Wayne heir couldn't help but think of his old League of Assassin's outfits.

"No one at work would know if you have a blazer on and buttoned." She continued, "It is your office so you can always install a closet here and keep an extra pair of clothes. Jeans, if you prefer. Who is to say that this whole time, you weren't wearing sweatpants and just dressed from the waist up."

He chuckled ather way of thinking.

'Effective, but true not the less. I could kick out anyone who entered my office, should I choose to dress comfortably, and there was a closet hidden behind the cabinets.'

"Another thing most people tend to do is incorporate their culture into their clothing, as well." Marinette spoke, "Personally, I use apple blossoms in most of my designs for myself."

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, you are not what I was expecting." Damian declared, "I like to expect everything."

Mari smiled, "I've been known to be...unpredictable."

"You want to work part time in the fashion section." The Wayne heir stated, "Even if it's just grabbing coffee or lunch for others."

"Correct." she answered.

"Fine." Damian spoke, "You can work here, part time, at least three days a week. I f you have a big comission, I want to know about it. You can keep the details to yourself, but I want a time frame."

Marinette nodded, happily.

"I also want you to make me something to relax in the office that could pass for office wear." he suggested, "I'll pay for fabric of course. I can send you the details of my heritage via email, later."

Marinette stood up, "I'll start on that and bring it by Friday."

Damian grabbed her hand and kissed it, "I'll see you Monday morning, at 9AM, for work. We can go over your schedule then."

Marinette felt her face flush as his lips connected with her hand. His gaze was piercing.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." She answered, flustered.

Damian waved his hand, dismissing her, but he still followed her to the door.

"You know, Miss Dupain-Cheng." He whispered, pressing himself to her back, "They may not be able to see it, but I see what lurks in the shadows. I can see what you hide there. I can wait a bit longer for the side of you that wants to come out and play."

"Is that so?" Marinette whispered back.

"I'll enjoy getting to know you, in the future." Damian spoke, before opening the door.

Marinette took a breath before she walked out the door.

"Marinette, did you get the job?" Adrien asked.

"Yes." she answered.

The model sighed in relief, "I told him you were good. I told him about Father and Audrey."

"Did you think I wouldn't be able to get it on my own?" Mari questioned.

"That's not what I meant!" Adrien cried, surprised at the question.

"Then, don't belittle me and my work." Marinette declared, "He already knew who I was. The Wayne keep a check on everyone and everything. Did you seriously not expect him to know about our families? He was probably listening to us in the waiting room."

Adrien gulped in response.

"Besides, I wasn't apart of whatever you three were fighting over." Marinette smiled, walking away.

'What did she mean by that?'

Adrien turned to see Damian Wayne leaning against the door, wearing a smirk on his face. Damian took notice of the model and hardened his gaze. Adrien gulped as Damian stood tall and closed his door again.

'What was he staring at?'

Adrien turned his head back down the corridor and saw Marinette speaking to the receptionist.

'He was after Marinette the whole time!'

'He already knew who I was.'

'He was probably listening to us in the waiting room.'

'Besides, I wasn't apart of whatever you three were fighting over.'

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#daminette december 2023 #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #wayne enterprise #damian wayne #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #lila rossi #chloe salt #adrien salt #lila salt #mommy issues #cerise miraculous #daddy issues #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #hinding in the shadows #mochinek0

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genderfluid-insomniac · 6 months

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omg ive been thinking about lyney for so long 💀

could you possibly do lyney x reader where both of them were already getting at it (👀) but freminet just got back from diving so they either both stop or try to keep quiet (but lyney teases reader)

Lyney x reader// “Quiet Down” NSFW

Lyney

Lyney had finished an astounding show and come back to his dressing room still worked up on adrenaline as he fucked you senseless. Pounding away at your hole and skin slapping against skin overshadowing the desperate pants and lewd moans being the only sounds in the room.

You lay against the cold mirror sitting on the vanity now fogged up and tilt your head back allowing your boyfriend more space to continue leaving love bites, sucking on your hot skin, and smirking at the bruises that would eventually form due to his hard work. “Now everyone shall know you belong to me. How does it feel knowing anyone could walk into my dressing room and find us having sweet passionate sex?”

The very idea of getting caught sent blood to your cheeks and you unconsciously tighten your walls around his leaking cock, gaining a deliciously lustful groan from Lyney and a smug expression sliding onto his face. “Seems like you’re fond of having someone catch us or maybe this is something you’ve thought of before. Have you thought of me fucking you right on stage behind the curtains minutes before the show would begin?”

You were helpless as he hiked your legs over his shoulder and hit a new spot inside you that made you see stars, voicing leaving you as you vehemently shook your head denying the statement that your body told him otherwise. A knock at the door made you both freeze and the familiar voice of Lyney’s brother timidly spoke up. “Lyney, Father wants to have a meeting with us about the Fontaine mission. This didn’t stop your boyfriend as he kept an agonizingly slow pace and kept your hips flush against his.

“Alright, Freminet. I’ll be there soon just finishing some last-minute touches for my show tomorrow.” That seemed to be a good enough excuse as Freminet started to walk away but stopped all while you helplessly were clawing at his thighs for release after being so close only to be denied. A quiet whimper escaped your lips and Lyney bent down, slipping his hand over your lips.

“You don’t want my brother to catch us do you?” You vigorously shook your head. Eyes pleading for him to let you orgasm. “Good. Then it should be easy to not make a peep until he’s gone, mon amour.” Kissing the back of his hand covering your mouth and picking up the pace, pounding into you and causing your eyes to roll back into your head.

#lyney x reader #genshin lyney #lyney #lyney x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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snaillamp · 3 months

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OKAY CHUCKLEFUCKS

Yes, thats what im calling you guys now it's lovingly i promise <3

The past few weeks ive received a few comments here and there about people liking my writing. I just want to give you all a big massive happy thank you! Writing is so special to me, it's something i have a lot of passion for, and the thought that i can write something that means something to people... it makes me so happy you have no idea.

SO! I WANT ALL OF YOU TO GO SHOWER YOUR FAVOURITE AUTHORS/ARTISTS/WHOEVERS WITH PRAISE! GO TELL THAT RANDO ON YOUR DASH WHO YOUVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE YOU LIKED THEIR STORY! GO TELL YOUR BESTIE YOU LIKE THEIR STORY! TELL THAT PERSON YOUVE BEEN NERVOUS ABOUT TELLING YOU LIKE THEIR STORIES!

TAG THEM HERE, SPREAD THE LOVE I WANT YOU ALL TO COME TOGETHER AND BUILD EACH OTHER UP!

I’m gonna add any asks i get for this here

| 1 |

GO TELL PEOPLE YOU LIKE THEIR STORIES/ART/WHATEVER CAUSE I WANT EVERYONE TO FEEL GOOD ABOUT THEIR STUFF CAUSE YOURE ALL SO AMAZING AND TALENTED AND I LOVE YOU ALL!

~ Snail <3

as an incentive, I have a picture of an oc that i was debating on whether to post or not. I worked on it for 13-14 hrs, and in a day if i hear that you guys are out there complementing each other, I will release it.

You have 24 hours.

~ 🐌

Well, my darlings. You have completed the task!

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #not whump #snaillamp #i love all of you go complement each other

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 4 months

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The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Trigger warning- substance abuse, drug overdose, descriptions of drug paraphernalia.

Previous Chapter

A/N: I've added a few paragraphs from Nikki Sixx's book 'The Heroin Diaries'. So, if you don't want to read Nikki's real words just skip past the paragraphs written in italics throughout this chapter. No judgement if you choose not to read them because Nikki's book hit hard, and I cried like a baby.

Chapter 14- The Heroin Diaries

You awoke the following morning after finally managing to fall asleep sometime during the early hours of the morning. The glass shards in your knees had been taken out and bandaged and there was now a blanket draped over you which definitely hadn't been there earlier.

"Hey." Vince's voice said gently.

You blinked, looking around realising that you were on the couch and your brother was leaning against the wall watching you with a small smile.

Why the fuck was he smiling? Nikki was fucking dead and-

"He's alive."

What?

No. This had to be a dream. You were still asleep because Nikki Sixx died last night. He was gone.

You shook your head, tears rising in your eyes, "don't... don't lie to me."

"No, no." Vince rushed across the room and knelt beside you on the couch. "Doc called. Nikki just left the hospital after pulling tubes out his nose and tearing the IV out his arm and telling everyone to fuck off."

Your jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and relief.

"Doc said he walked out with only a pair of leather pants on." Vince added like that piece of information was important. But you were barely listening to anything else too caught up on the fact that Nikki wasn't fucking dead.

"Oh my God." You whispered sitting up on the couch as tears of utter relief trickled down your face. "He's alive?" You double checked.

Vince nodded, "Nikki is alive."

You were on your feet in an instant nearly barrelling your brother over in your haste to put your shoes on.

"Whoa, where are you going?" Vince asked following you towards the front door as you slipped on your boots.

"To find him."

You grabbed your car keys and was out the door before your brother could say anything else. You pushed the speed limit by double as you sped across town to his house which was probably stupid, but in that moment, you were not thinking about anything else other than finding Nikki and making sure he was alive and had gotten home from the hospital.

He had been living in a house at Valley Vista Boulevard in Van Nuys. Doc referred to it as the 'Heroin Den' which you hated with a passion, but it was probably true. It had been years since you were last inside his house. Nikki never invited you over and you knew it had to do with his drug addiction, so you had no idea what to expect when you arrived.

There was a new 10-foot-tall security fence surrounding the house with a steel barred gate at the front. You pressed the button for the intercom, but as suspected there was no answer. Taking a stab in the dark for the pin code, you keyed in 666 and shouldn't have been surprised when it actually worked.

You made a mental note to lecture Nikki on his home security at a later date. Right now, there were more important things to focus on.

You waited impatiently for the steel gate to slide open before you hit the gas and sped up the stupidly long driveway, skidding to a halt in front of the house and rushing to the door.

"Nikki?!" You shouted knocking on the door while frantically pressing the doorbell.

You waited for a moment before knocking again but there was no answer.

Damnit, Nikki.

You tried the door handle, but it was locked.

Typical.

Glancing around the front porch your eyes landed on a large stone gargoyle statue by the door. Nikki used to keep his spare key under a similar gargoyle statue, so you stepped over to it and tried to lift it, but it was made of pure stone. There was no lifting this stupid statue. There was however a small hook behind its head and hanging on the hook was the spare key.

Wow. Nikki really needed to up his security around here.

Snatching the key from the back of the statue, you quickly slotted it into the lock and sighed with relief when the door clicked open. You rushed inside and closed it behind you while scanning the living area.

The house had changed a lot since you were last inside these walls. To say Nikki decked out his house was an understatement. Ralph Lauren, crushed velvet comforters, buried walnut antiques, more gargoyles, Persian carpets... it felt as if you had stepped into the 1800s. Even the gate and fence around the house looked medieval.

It was suiting for Nikki Sixx, and not what you were expecting in the slightest. The only problem was the bassist was nowhere to be seen.

"Sixx? Are you here?" You called out, jogging up the stairs taking two at a time. "Sixx?"

His bedroom door was slightly ajar, so you pushed it open cautiously. Clothes and rubbish were scattered over the floor of his room. Empty beer cans and Jack bottles littered his dresser along with empty doggie bags still containing small amounts of white powder.

He wasn't here though.

Where the hell was he?

You vaguely remember him and Tommy telling you once that they both liked to do drugs in their closets. You had found it strange at the time, but they insisted that the small tight spaces made them feel safe because sometimes drugs, especially heroin, made them scared and paranoid.

You turned to the closed door of the bedroom closet and hesitated.

It was more than a closet -it was a safe space, and it was private.

"Sixx?" You tried again, but there was no answer.

Without wasting anymore time, you pulled open the double doors of his closet and your stomach dropped at the sight inside.

Nikki was sprawled out across the floor. A needle still dangled from his arm. The carpet below him was covered with blood. His blood that ran down from the needle point.

He was still wearing his leather pants and no shirt, but his eyes were closed, and his skin was ghostly pale.

"Fuck, Nikki." You hissed, rushing inside trying to ignore all the used needles and drug paraphernalia everywhere as you skidded to your knees beside him.

"Sixx? Hey, hey, can you hear me? Nikki?" You called out, cradling his face in your hands. "C'mon, Sixx. Don't do this to me. Wake up!"

He was smacked out and incoherent, but he was alive.

Nikki was alive.

You reached down and carefully pulled the needle out from his arm and inspected it trying to gauge how much he had taken, but it was impossible to tell. There was still some dark liquid inside the syringe, but you didn't know how much was already in his system.

Should you be calling for an ambulance?

You glanced around the closet not knowing what to do before rushing out his room and into his ensuite turning the shower on cold because that was the only way you knew how to wake someone up.

Dragging Nikki's unconscious body out the closet and across the bedroom was a mission on its own. But you managed to get yourself sitting inside the shower with the bassist held firmly against your chest allowing the cool water to wash over him.

It didn't take long before his eyes snapped open, and he gasped awake. His groggy eyes blinked slowly as if trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

You quickly reached up and turned the shower off, your own clothes and hair drenched through and clinging to your body as you shifted him in your lap and cupped his cheek with your hand.

"Hey, are you with me? Nikki?" You asked, caressing his face gently as his drowsy, sunken eyes met yours.

He stared up at you for a moment his brows furrowing as he blinked before the weight of the world crashed into him. The events of everything that had happened flooded over him like waves upon waves beating him down until his blank expression cracked into something utterly broken.

"I-I'm sorry." He said, his rough voice barely above a whisper before tears welled up in his eyes and he cried.

"Shh. It's okay. I got you. It's okay." You soothed, as he curled in on himself in your lap while his body wracked with an onslaught of sobs and tears.

This was a side of Nikki Sixx that you had never seen before. A side nobody had ever seen, and it made your heart shatter seeing him so broken.

You sniffed quietly, tears threatening to spill from your own eyes as you leant down and hugged the bassist in your lap not knowing what else to do except be there for him. Both of you were drench from head to toe and you knew you should get him out of those wet leather pants and into something warmer, but that could wait. Right now, he needed this.

Eventually, you got Nikki out the shower and into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt before helping him into bed. His body was still weak and tired from the drugs. While he slept, you went through his closet, bedroom and entire house, and threw away all the drugs.

You spent hours cleaning. You went through every room, every draw, every cupboard finding all the bindles of coke, pills, booze and syringes, and disposed of the lot. His closet was deep cleaned. The blood and other bodily fluids on the floor cleaned up too. The only things you didn't dispose of were his two guns.

The double-barrel shotgun that had been leaning against the wall of his closet use to belong to his grandfather. It was an old Winchester that dated back to the early 1930s. You knew how valuable it was to Nikki, despite how much you hated him having these weapons when he was drugged out of his mind.

You picked up the 12-gauge carefully and flicked the break action lever cracking the weapon open to find two shells sitting inside.

It was fucking loaded.

Jesus.

You took out the shotgun shells from the barrel and shoved them in your pocket for the time being before stepping out the closet. Nikki was still asleep on the bed, so you walked across his room to the large body mirror on the wall that you knew had a safe built in behind it.

It might have been a while since you were last inside Nikki's house, but some things were still the same. Thankfully.

Grabbing the edge of the mirror you pulled it away from the wall exposing the safe that Nikki had built himself many years ago. You keyed in 666 again because you wouldn't put it past the bassist to use that code for everything, but it didn't work.

You paused staring at the keypad for a moment before trying 1958 and the safe clicked open.

He really shouldn't use his birth year as a safe code. If anyone broke into his house it wouldn't be hard to guess. But, right now, you were glad he did.

After placing the shotgun and two shells inside, you walked over to his bedside table where you had noticed a .357 Magnum was sitting. Pistols were not very familiar to you. Shotguns and rifles were due to the many stupid camping and hunting trips your father would force you and Vince to join him on. So, you knew how to handle those guns, but you didn't know much about pistols.

The Magnum was loaded though, you could see the bullets clearly in the cylinder and had no idea how to eject them. You'd probably be able to work it out but knew better than to fiddle with a loaded weapon. So, you carefully picked it up by the grip and ensured to keep you finger away from the trigger before putting it inside the safe and locking it shut.

Once you were sure there was not a single doggie bag or used needle left in the premises, you switched out your own wet clothes and slipped on one of Nikki's oversized shirts to wear as a dress while you put your drenched clothes into the dryer downstairs.

Upon returning to his bedroom, Nikki was still fast asleep under the blankets. He looked peaceful and younger while asleep, his features more relaxed and at ease, but his skin was still a little pale. While watching the bassist sleep, you noticed a small leather-bound notebook half hidden under the bed.

Curiosity got the better of you and you quietly walked over to the bed and picked it up.

It was an old book. The leather faded and edges torn. It wasn't uncommon for Nikki to walk around with a notepad and pen. He was constantly writing down words and sentences that he would later turn into lifechanging lyrics.

Figuring this was one of his song writing books, you opened to the first page and began to read.

'December 25th 1986 Van Nuys, 7:30pm

I guess I've decided to start another diary this time for a few different reasons... 1. I have no friends left 2. So I can read back and remember what I did the day before. 3. So if I die, at least I have a paper trail of my life (nice lil suicide note).

Merry Christmas... it's just you and me, diary. Welcome to my life.'

Your jaw dropped as you read over the word's realisation hitting you hard. This was Nikki's diary. Nikki Sixx had a diary.

Your eyes shifted from the paper to find the bassist still asleep in bed before you looked back down at the diary in your hands feeling as if you were holding Nikki's entire life in your fingers. Perhaps you kind of were.

Diaries were not meant to be read by other people. They were private. And the fact that Nikki had this hidden under his bed was enough evidence to prove that he did not want anybody ever finding this. You should put it back and pretend it didn't exist. That would be the right thing to do.

But Nikki had just overdosed yesterday. Did he write in his diary yesterday? Has he written in it since being back home from the hospital?

"You're going to hell, Y/N." You whispered to yourself before sitting down on the carpet beside Nikki's bed and flicking through the pages.

You skim read paragraphs here and there before skipping towards the back of the diary and stopped when you reached December of this year, 1987.

You glanced back up at Nikki on the bed. He was still out cold. Guilt swelled in your stomach at what you were about to do, but it wasn't enough to stop you before you began to read through his entries needing to know what happened that resulted in Nikki nearly dying.

'December 16th 1987 Hotel, Tokyo, 2pm

Lately I've been slipping deeper into thoughts of... why? I don't know why, I am just slipping deeper. Some days I don't know how much longer I can hold on, or why I would even want to. You'd think I'd be excited about selling out three nights at the Budokan but I'm rotting inside and all I smell is my putrid past... it haunts me. Maybe to you it would seem like a surface burn but the pain is too deep for surgery.

P.S. I'm so lonely I nearly called Y/N to my hotel room but that wouldn't have been good for either of us. She's still in pain. I see it in her eyes every day. She's drinking more too, but I haven't said anything. That'd be the pot calling the fucking kettle black, right? I wanted to call her into my room though... it must have been the cocaine I got from the Yakuza.'

This was not what you had been expecting to find inside Nikki Sixx's diary, although you weren't exactly sure what you had been expecting in the first place. Maybe some drunken ramblings or dirt on the other bandmembers, but not these soul wrenching words of truth.

Nikki had noticed your drinking. That wasn’t good. Were you really that bad at hiding your feelings?

'December 17th 1987 Hotel, Tokyo, noon

I know I'm dying from depression. I feel like a lost soul... like the only person left on Earth. If I died, would anybody cry? It seems to me by putting myself out of my misery I'd be killing two birds with one stone.'

'December 18th 1987 10pm

Just got offstage. Last show of the year. I don't wanna be on the road and I don't wanna go home. If I go home I'll get strung out again.'

Fuck.

Nikki knew. He fucking knew coming home to this house by himself would end badly.

Tears burned in your eyes as you read Nikki's scribbled writing. You knew Nikki was struggling, but you never realised the full extent of it.

'December 21st 1987 Hotel, Hong Kong, 7pm

I'm alone. It's not nice...

Waves of depression come over me, then anger, then disinterest. I'm already drunk, I guess, if half a bottle of Jack is drunk. I actually don't feel anything, but maybe that's just me.'

'December 23rd 1987 Van Nuys, 9:30am

Unravelling, unsure, underdetermined, unnecessary... this is what my life has boiled down to. I either have to stop or die... I can't straddle this fence any longer. I have taken into my lungs the longest breath of hell and I'm still here.'

The pages were blank after that.

That was the last thing Nikki wrote before overdosing on heroin.

You hadn't realised you were crying until a couple tears splattered onto the paper smudging the ink in two small circles. You quickly closed the diary not wanting to ruin the page before tucking the leather notebook back under the bed where you had found it and looked back up at the bassists sleeping body through teary eyes.

Nikki was practically screaming for help in these diary entries, but nobody knew. Sure, you noticed his addiction getting worse and had even called him out on it, but you didn't know how bad it had gotten.

Why didn't he come to you? You could have helped him. You could have been there for him...

Fresh tears began to spill from your eyes, so you went to the bathroom where Nikki wouldn't be able to hear you cry if he woke up. You sat on the edge of the bathtub leaning forward with your hands on your knees as you sucked in a few deep shaky breaths.

Tears streamed down your face like a river of sadness as you thought about all the pain Nikki had been silently battling with. You continued to cry, and each stifled sob echoed the loud, resounding ache in your heart.

Next Chapter

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

all hers, part xii

summary: Tara's out. Reader gets an unwanted and unexpected visitor.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 3.8k

a/n: :0 who could it be??? thanks as always for all the love, let me know your theories (and what you want to see next)!!

Since that unfortunate incident in the living room, you and Tara have been hiding out in her bedroom.

Well you’re hiding out, unable to get past the mortification. The look on Sam’s face as she’d seen the two of you. The hushed lecture she’d given you both the morning after. Tara, as usual, doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong, but she goes where you go, and tonight, that’s curled up under her covers watching an episode of Ancient Aliens.

You’re perfectly content, wrapped up in Tara’s arms, until you hear a long rapt on the door. It’s Sam, presumably. She’s taken to knocking profusely before entering any room.

Tara’s bedroom especially.

“What?” Tara calls out. Sam’s voice sounds through the wood of the door, a little muffled.

“Is everybody decent?”

“No.” Tara says, deadpanned, “We’re having wild, passionate sex, don’t come in.”

Sam pauses.

You whack her, lightly.

“You’re fine Sam, we’re fully clothed.” You call out.

Tara shoots you a look but you ignore her, watch as Sam hesitantly steps into the room.

“Richie got Clue from the house. Do you guys want to join us for a game?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You and Tara both say at the same time. It earns her another smack.

“We’ll be down in five,” You tell her, voice syrupy sweet. You’ve been doing that lately, being extra nice to Sam. Trying to make up for your girlfriend’s utter lack of respect.

Sam nods, closes the door behind her.

“What did you do that for?” Tara groans, “Now we’ll be stuck with them all night.”

“You need to start being nicer to your sister.” You tell her, stand and tug at her hand, “She’s making a real effort. And we still have some groveling to do.”

“You can grovel all you like, unless you can erase memories I think that one will stick with her for a while.” She grins like she’s proud of herself.

You smack her again.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Ow.” She rubs her forearm, eyes wide with outrage, “Stop hitting me.”

“Stop being an idiot and I’ll stop hitting you.” You tell her, hold out your hand. She takes it with great reluctance, scoots herself off the bed, “Now what are we going to go downstairs and do?”

“Be nice to Sam,” Tara grumbles.

“And Richie.” You remind her. She goes quiet.

“Tara. He’s fine.”

“He’s creepy,” Tara complains, “I just get a bad vibe from him. And Sam can do so much better-”

“Drop it.” You chide. You reach for her hand, interlock your fingers, “You’re going to be nice to Sam and you’re going to be nice to Richie. All night. Please?”

She really looks like she wants to argue. Instead, she pulls you into her, presses a long kiss to your cheek.

“Fine. But only for you.”

“It’s Colonel Mustard. In the study. With the knife.”

Richie’s eyes glint. Tara huffs beside you as Sam reaches for the small yellow packet in the middle of the table.

“Sam, don’t. It’s been two rounds, he can’t possibly have gotten it already.”

Sam slaps down the cards. It is Colonel Mustard. In the study. With the knife. Tara blinks.

“You cheated.” She says, immediately.

Richie laughs, “No. I’m just good at this kind of thing.”

“He is.” Sam assures, pulling everyone’s cards to the center of the table, “It’s annoying.”

You rub the back of Tara’s neck. You can tell she’s getting upset. She doesn’t like to lose and this is the third game in a row Richie’s won. You’re starting to think this was a bad idea.

“He’s looking at the cards,” Tara insists, snatching the packet off Sam, “Here, let me deal.”

But Richie wins again, even after Tara makes a big show of dealing the hand quite literally under the table. Tara’s shoulders tighten. The first sign of her mood. She goes quiet as she plays, all focus and determination, snapping replies when she’s asked questions. Pushing your hand on her thigh away.

By the end of the fourth game, you’re the one snatching the cards from the table.

“Maybe we should play something else,” You suggest quickly, your hand around Tara’s waist maybe the only thing stopping her from launching across the table to slap the shit-eating grin off Richie’s face, “Uno?”

You can’t stand Uno, you suck at it. But Tara’s good at it and she almost never loses. A quick win is exactly what she needs. You hold back your cards on purpose, determined to give her the game. Direct all your bad cards at Richie and Sam.

But despite your best efforts, Richie wins that too.

By the time game night is over, Richie’s standing a little taller and you’re left to pick up the pieces of Tara’s foul mood. You lead her back upstairs, direct an unsaid apology towards Sam with your eyes.

Tara’s so annoyed she barely notices when you strip naked in front of her and slip into bed.

“God, he sucks,” She vents, so irate you can almost see the steam coming out of her ears, “He cheats at Clue and if that isn’t sad enough he cheats at Uno too. What is he trying to prove?”

She’s a terrible loser, always has been. If someone except her wins, she’s certain they’ve cheated. Somehow you even find that endearing about her. You reach for her and rub her back, soothingly.

“Babe, I don’t think he was cheating,” You say, nestling yourself into her side, “He’s just good at games. He’s a nerd. He probably spends all his free time practicing them. I mean, all he ever does is play that stupid shooting game.”

Tara chews at her bottom lip.

“He probably spends all night practising because his girlfriend never wants to fuck him.” Tara says, her eyes sparking a little. Next to fucking you, ragging on Richie was her absolue favorite thing to do.

You indulge her, try to prompt her out of her grump.

“Exactly. And you don’t have that problem.” You say, pressing your lips against her ear, “Because your girlfriend always wants to fuck you.”

That does it. You feel her soften immediately, her hands around your waist tightening. She’s suddenly realized you’re naked against her. She runs her hands down your bare thighs, her mood gone with a single sentence.

“Hmm,” She says, her voice dropping a few octaves, “That’s true. I’d beat him every time if I didn’t have such a sexy, naked girl in my bed 24/7.”

“Definitely.” You assure, “So who’s the real winner?”

‘Me.” Tara grins as she flips you onto her back, “Definitely me.”

In the end, the real winner is you.

You get three orgasms as a reward for your peace-keeping efforts. By the time you’re done, a sweaty mess of entwined limbs, you’re satisfied but dehydrated. Tara mews as you get up, trying to tug you back into her.

“I’m just going to get some water,” You assure, reaching for her discarded t-shirt and pulling it over your head, “Do you want some?”

She nods, a little sleepily, rests her head back down onto the pillow as you leave.

The house is dark, you pad quietly through it, not wanting to wake Sam and Richie.

But when you reach the kitchen, Richie’s already there in only his boxers, a glass of milk in hand. He raises it to you in acknowledgement.

“Hey,” He says, “You thirsty too, huh?”

“Just getting some water.” You say as you reach into the shelf and grab yourself a glass.

“Tara still pissed she lost?” He asks, leaning against the countertop, “That girl sure knows how to throw a tantrum.”

He grins a little, like he’s sure you’ll agree with him. Bitches, am I right? His smile screams. As if he’s forgotten he’s talking to her girlfriend.

“She’s just competitive,” You say, a little defensively. You fill yourself a glass, grab another for Tara.

“Hmm.” Richie says, “I’m sure she’s fine now. After you got done with her.”

His eyes flicker down to your bare legs. You cross your arms a little self conscious.

“You guys have a lot of sex, you know.” Richie continues. He takes a long sip of his drink, “We can hear you through the walls. It’s driving Sam crazy.”

Your neck prickles uncomfortably. The thought of Sam hearing you have sex was mortifying but knowing Richie could hear too was somehow even worse.

“Sorry.” You say. You pull her shirt down your legs a little, subconsciously trying to cover yourself, “We’ll be quieter.”

“It’s fine.” He says, “I don’t mind.”

He blinks as if he’s just realized what he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a weird way. I just meant- you know what, never mind. I’m going to stop talking.”

He hovers, a little awkward. You blink back at him, unsure what to say.

“Enjoy your water. And your- sex, I guess.”

And then he leaves you standing in the kitchen alone, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

When you make your way back up to Tara’s she’s still laying in bed, her eyes drooping.

She accepts her water, and doesn't seem to notice your mood.

You’re glad, you don’t want to tell Tara about your conversation with Richie in the kitchen.

You feel weird, uncomfortable. You tell yourself to let it go. After all, he hadn’t even anything that offensive, outside of being slightly creepy. There really wasn’t anything to tell Tara. And she’d go ballistic. Probably go in all guns blazing and drag Richie out of bed by his hair.

The last thing you need is her to be angry again.

You curl back into bed against her, still wearing her shirt.

“Take this off.” She murmurs into your chest, trying to tug her shirt off you. You resist.

“You know we can’t sleep naked.” You say. Sleeping naked with Tara almost always ended up the same way; her waking you up at some ungodly hour to fuck you into the mattress because she’d gotten so turned on by the press of your skin against hers in the middle of the night, “We have to be at school for eight.”

She pouts. You press a kiss to her lips.

“Tomorrow.” You promise, “When it’s Friday and I don’t have to be up early.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She says, quite seriously and lets you pull her pajamas back on.

It’s Saturday night.

Usually, you’d be out with Tara’s friends but the mood has dampened a little since Wes’ disappearance. The friendship circle dwindling a little, only five of you left, with Wes and Amber’s untimely departures.

Instead, you’re starting dinner prep while Tara and Sam do the grocery shop. Tara had insisted on going with her, complaining Sam’s grocery options were far too organic for her taste. Richie’s out somewhere with his college buddies, so for once you have the house to yourself.

Maybe when Tara got back the two of you could watch a film, since Richie had temporarily vacated the living room. Or maybe you’d rope her and Sam into another game of Clue, fix Tara’s bruised ego by letting her win.

For now, you put on some music, put your hair up.

Chop potatoes while grooving out to Fleetwood Mac, not a care in the world.

In fact you’re so into the music, you don’t even hear the press of the kitchen door opening. The heavy click of boots against the tile. The gentle scrapping of a knife against the wood of the counter.

And when you turn around, lyrics to Dreams still on your lips, your heart almost jumps out of your throat.

It’s Tara, wearing the Ghostface outfit. Black robes and all, mask down, silver dagger in hand.

Your reaction is instantaneous; the knife you’re holding clatters to the counter. Your entire body fizzles: a mesh of confusion and rage and horror at the sight in front of you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hiss, “Where are you going?”

Tara tilts her head. Her fingers press tighter around the knife in her hand. She doesn’t bother to answer. It makes you angrier. Your stomach writhes sick with fury. She’d told you she wasn’t going to do this anymore. She’d swore black and blue. Hurt, anger, betrayal well up, set deep within your bones.

“You promised me you’d stop with this. Take that off right now.”

But she doesn’t move. Not an inch. You reach out for her, grab at the mask, determined to tear it off and tell her how disappointed you are to her face. But she jerks away from you out of your reach. You stare, irritation swelling.

“Where’s Sam? Tara, if she comes home and sees you like this-”

You don’t see it coming. One minute she’s standing completely still. The next, her arms are jerking out wide, grabbing at you hard. She yanks you to her, hands are gripping your forearms so hard you think it might bruise.

“What the fuck? Get off me!” You cry out as you struggle against her.

Something’s wrong. Something other than Tara standing in front of you in her Ghostface costume. Her grip is hard, unforgiving. Her hands are too big, her weight against you feels strange. Foreign.

Your struggle against her is futile. She’s much stronger than you. She drags you backwards across the kitchen and slams you down onto the floor like you’re a ragdoll. Then she’s climbing on top of you, too heavy, hands wrapping tight around your throat.

She chokes you hard. It’s not an unfamiliar position. But this is different. She’s choking you like she wants to hurt you. You writhe in a panic as her fingers squeeze down tight around your throat. You try to cry out but she’s pressing down too hard on your vocal chords. Your vision blurs. Your head light.

In a final, desperate move, you manage to kick up between her legs at just the right angle. Her grip loosens, only slightly but it’s enough.

You scramble out from under her. Immediately grab at your fallen potato chopping knife.

When you whirl around, knife pointed out at her, she’s pulling herself back to her feet, Ghostface mask tilted menacingly.

“Who the fuck are you?” You hiss, hands shaking.

This isn’t your girlfriend, you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. This person is taller, bigger, and they want to hurt you. As they stand, you see the glint of the knife in their hands.

“Someone who thinks you should pay.” They’re using the Ghostface voice changer. You haven’t heard it since that night at Chase’s house. The night you’d discovered who Tara truly was. It sends shivers down your spine. Your lip quivers.

“Someone who thinks you should both pay.” Ghostface edges a little closer, knife tilted out towards you. Your eyes flicker down to it. It gleams under the cool lights of the kitchen, “And when I’m done carving you up, I’m going to drag your pretty girlfriend in here too. Just long enough so she can see what I’ve done to you. Then I’ll mutilate her over your corpse.”

“You stay the fuck away from her.” You growl, edge forward and launch a strike. Ghostface ducks past it like it’s nothing. You topple back, grip the counter so hard it might just crack under the pressure. Ghostface is close now, close enough that if you just reached forward and grabbed the mask…

Ghostface ducks as you try it. Launches a hard strike at you. You spin out of the way just in time, their dagger hitting the side of the counter. It clatters to the ground and you take the moment to run.

You’re sprinting, far out of the kitchen and down the hall, heartbeat in your ears. You rush for the front door. If you can just make it out of the house, run out onto the street, you’ll be able to find help. A neighbor, a car, anything.

You hear footsteps, loud and heavy behind you.

Panic floods through your veins, tears streaking hot down your face. Your hands are shaking as you pry open the lock. Their close now, close enough to grab you. Just as a pair of gloved hands reach out to pull you back, the click of the lock sounds.

You don’t wait a moment longer. Pry open the door as fast as you can and sprint forward.

Immediately, you hit a solid body.

You hit the ground hard, a mess of tears, tangled limbs and loose grocery items. You gasp as a rogue glass of pasta sauce shatters around you, a carton of milk seeping cool under your fingertips.

It’s Sam, looking confused and a little dazed. The weight of you has sent her toppling back onto the porch. You wildly flurry to untangle yourself from her, scramble up desperately looking behind you for the foreboding figure that had just chased you down the hallway.

“My groceries.” Sam gasps, from the ground, “YN, what the hell?”

But you’re not looking at her. You stare back into the house. The hallway is empty, eerie, lights flickering. Ghostface is long gone.

You hear the thud of the car door closing, and then a voice that makes you want to crumble to the ground.

“Sam?” Tara calls out from behind the car. No doubt she’s heard the panic, tries to round the corner to see what’s going on. She’s carrying two brown bags worth of groceries, a particularly long celery stick blocking her vision. She brushes it out of the way, eyes lock to Sam on the ground and you, standing limp-handed, tears and mascara streaked down your face.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

You run towards her, all but throw yourself into her arms. She lets go of the groceries instantly. They fall to the ground with a crash as she wraps her arms tight around you. You sniffle into her neck, breathing wild, heartbeat erratic. You try to speak but it comes out in a quiet, muffled blubber, tears spilling hot from your eyes and into her neck. She’s pulling you away only slightly so she can cup your cheeks, eyes panicked as she sees the look in your eyes.

“Babe, what happened?”

“He’s inside,” Your voice shakes. It’s thick, “Ghostface. He’s here.”

She blinks back at you. You’re so close to her you can almost hear the thud of her heartbeat as it speeds up.

“What?” She says, “That’s impossible.”

“He’s here.” You say, desperately, “Call the police, now.”

“Who’s here?” Sam asks. She’s long abandoned her groceries, looks over at you with concern.

“Ghostface.” You say, “He attacked me in the house. Just now. He’s probably still inside.”

Sam’s face drops. Tara’s hands tighten around your waist.

“Wait here.” Tara murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“No.” You and Sam both shout at once. You grip her hard. Keep her locked into you.

“You’re not going in there. No way.” You say. The shake in your voice gone, replaced with sheer determination. Over your dead body was she going into that house alone.

“Baby, let go. You know I can handle myself.”

Sam reaches for her phone.

“Get back in the car. Lock the doors.” She orders, taking charge, “YN, don’t let go of her. I’m calling the police.”

“He’ll be gone by then,” Tara says, aggravated but you don’t loosen your grip. Cling to her like a baby koala would its mother.

“Let’s get in the car, please Tara.” You all but beg. She looks down at you, conflict in her eyes.

“Please.”

She relents. You feel the tension in her body loosen only a little, before she’s leading you back into Sam’s car, and helping you into the back seat. You all but crawl into her lap, watch as Sam paces back and forth across the front lawn, talking animatedly to the 911 operator.

“Are you okay?” Tara’s asking, her hands over your body. She’s wildly checking for marks, cuts. “Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head.

Tara presses a long kiss to the side of your head.

“Did you see his face?” Tara asks. She looks so anxious you want to weep.

You shake your head once more.

“Did you get close? Did you hear his voice?”

“Voice-changer,” You all but mumble.

She bites at her bottom lip. She looks back into the house, eyes it like she’s about to make a break for it. You curl your fingers tight around her waist, keeping her in place. Press your cheek to her chest. Her heart is beating faster than yours, drumming loudly against your ear.

Her fingers thread through your hair, heartbeat still racing.

“Shoes?”

“Boots. They were black.”

“What did he smell like?”

You retract from her just long enough to stare up at her. She’s looking back, completely serious.

“I didn’t smell him, Tara, I was busy trying not to get stabbed-”

Your lip trembles. A fresh wave of tears spill hot from your eyes.

“Alright. Alright, I’m sorry, baby. Of course you didn’t smell him.” She takes you back into her arms, hushes your cries with a kiss, “There’s got to be something. He grabbed you, right? What did he feel like? Was he skinny? Beefy?”

“He was…” You trail off trying to remember. You look down at your forearms, remember the way he’d gripped you, “He was strong. Solid.”

“So he was a he, then?” Tara tries to confirm. Her eyes flit between yours, searchingly.

“I don’t… maybe. Not necessarily.” You say, suddenly hyper-aware of how unhelpful you’re being. You pause a moment, remembering something.

“He knew though.”

Tara looks at you, long and hard.

“He knew what?”

“What we-” You take a breath, hot flashes of memories painting thick behind your eyes. The knife in your hand. Wes’ body on the floor.

“About you-know-what.”

Sam’s close, you don’t want to say it aloud. Tara’s expression is even, unreadable. Her heartbeat hammers even louder.

“That’s not possible.”

“He said that we need to pay.” You insist, “There’s nothing else he could have meant.”

Tara goes quiet, her fingers in your hair tightened. Then she’s pulling you back into her chest, pressing another long kiss against the top of your head.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” She says, voice agonized, “Why did I leave you alone?”

“Nevermind about that,” You say. You close your eyes, breathe her in. It calms you, if only for a moment, “What are we going to do?”

She blinks back at you. She’s afraid, uncertain, you can see it in her eyes. She doesn’t have an answer for you, she doesn’t know what to do.

She’s used to being the hunter, not the hunted.

And the thought of Tara being Ghostface’s prey is what scares you the most.

Next part

#scream #scream vi #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #ghostface #all hers #mine #fanfiction #ghostface!tara

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ofstarsandvibranium · 6 months

Text

Unexpectedly Yours: Part 8

Fandom: Ted Lasso (Regency AU)

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: Lord Roy Kent still has yet to marry. He hates the notion that marriage is a way to ensure your status in society. You have delayed your debut to society for years because of the same idea. So what happens when two people who hate the idea of marriage are constantly drawn to each other?

A/N: ive been waiting to use this gif...

Series Masterlist

Roy looked around seeing that everyone had stopped dancing, watching as you storm your way out of the ballroom. Eyes were glancing between your retreating and Roy's stunned look. He groans to himself and mumbles, "Fucking hell," promptly stomping his way out of the ballroom to follow you.

"Hey!" he calls out to you but you're ignoring him, "Stop!" he hollers again, following you to the gardens of the estate.

"Fuck," he grunts, picking up the pace and catching up to you, "Will you slow down for a moment?"

You whip around and push him back, "I've had enough of you!" you're seething, "Ever since you arrived, my world had revolved around you but not by choice! I'm tired of people telling me what to do. I'm tired of having this pressure to be with someone who doesn't want me! I'm tired of all of this!"

"Do you love Goodman?" Roy calmly asks.

"What?" you look at him confused.

"Because if you don't, then you shouldn't be with him. You deserve someone who makes you feel like you've been struck by fucking lightning. Someone who you're excited to be the first thing you see when you wake and the last thing before you sleep. You deserve someone who will worship the ground you walk on, but also someone who challenges you. Someone who admires your tenacity and passion. Does Goodman do that?"

You stare at him in silence and so he continues, "You think I don't want you, but I do. God, I want you," he states. He pauses to wait for any kind of reaction but you remain silent, "Ever since I came here, you're all I've thought about. You've consumed my every being. You've brought life back into me...but I don't think I'm a good enough man for you. I don't think I deserve love and I struggle to let people in. But every time I see you with Goodman, I think about how much I would regret not even trying to fight for you."

"I'm sorry I've hurt you and caused you so much distress since arriving to Richmond. That was never my intention. If you want me to fuck off, I'll obey your wishes. But if you care for me just as much as I care for you, I will do anything you ask of me."

You stare at Roy in silence. You're completely stunned by his outburst of a confession, but hearing his love and adoration for you...it stirs something in you.

You immediately grab Roy by the lapel, pulling him to press your lips against his. He's taken but surprise but then you feel his hands cup your face. His lips moving against yours in the heat of the moment causing a fire to burn in your belly. You feel absolutely consumed by him in this kiss until-

"Y/N L/N!" your mother screeches and you immediately pull away, lips swollen and slightly out of breath.

Your mother is followed by your father, Keeley, Jamie, Jeffrey, and Clara. Your father is trying to calm your mother as she bounds towards you in a furry, "What on Earth do you think you two are doing?! Such a scandal!"

Roy steps forward, "Ma'am, I'm sorry-"

"You'll have to marry now!"

Your eyes widen, "Mother-"

"No! There's no choice now. You have to marry Lord Kent because if word gets out that not only you two were unchaperoned but also found in such a compromising position, you'll be ruined! Not to mention the disrespect on Mr. Goodman!" she gestures to Jeffrey and he looks at you with sympathy, but no malice. He gives you a nod and mouths, "It's okay," which already lightens the load on your shoulders.

Roy clenches his jaw, straightens his back and says, "I'll marry her."

You whip your head to Roy and you look at him in surprise. He completely turns to you and grabs your gloved hand, "I meant what I said, Y/N. Truly. If you'll have me, I will do anything you ask of me, anything to make you happy."

You find yourself breathlessly nodding, "I'll have you," you turn to your parents, "We'll marry."

Your mother nods in satisfaction, "Good. We'll be taking our leave then," she immediately grabs you by the wrist and starts dragging you away.

Roy then steps up to your father, "Will you be available tomorrow afternoon to discuss affairs, sir?"

"I will, my Lord."

Roy nods and sees to walk back towards the house leaving behind your father, Keeley, Jamie, Jeffrey, and Clara.

Jamie claps Jeffrey on the shoulder, "Sorry, mate, looks like that courtship isn't happening."

Jeffrey shrugs, "As long as she's happy. However, I thought her and Lord Kent didn't get along."

Clara sighs, "It's complicated, but it seems they've uncomplicated it...finally."

_________________________

You don't listen to your mother as she scolds you throughout the entire ride back home. You stare out of the carriage with a small smile on your lips. The lips that Roy kissed.

Your father, noting the dreamy look on your face, sighs and places a hand on your mother's lap, "Darling, I think that's enough."

"But-"

"I'm not sure why you're upset, honestly. You wanted them to be together, yes?"

Your mother huffs, "Yes, but I didn't want it to happen so scandalously!"

"The only people who found them were us and her friends. I doubt they'll tell anyone."

"But-" your father gives her a pointed look and she drops the subject. She looks back at you, also noting the look on your face and she's no longer upset. You look so...in love. Your mother hopes that Lord Kent will keep his word and do everything to ensure your happiness.

____________________

When you arrive back home, you bid your parents good night and head upstairs. However, instead of going to your room, you head straight to Cece's.

You slowly open the door and peek in, "Cece?" you whisper.

You watch as she rolls in her bed, "Y/N?" she sits up, rubbing at her eyes, "Is something wrong?"

You slip into her room and sit at the edge of her bed, "I have some news that I think you'll like."

That seems to wake her up as she sits up in bed, "What is it?!"

You chuckle at her excitement, "Roy and I will be getting married."

Her eyes widen and jaw drops, "What?! Really?! Tell me everything!"

You giggle, "I will but let me change and I will come back and tell you everything."

She groans, "Y/N! No! Tell me now! I've been waiting for this for months!"

"Fine, fine," you pull your young cousin close and tell her the events of the night. She was squealing and jumping in her bed.

"I knew it! I knew it! I told you he loves you!"

"Ssshhh!!" you pull her back down, "Mother and father will be upset if they knew you're awake!"

"Well, that's your fault for waking me!"

You softly smile at your cousin, "You should go back to sleep now."

"I can't! I'm too excited to talk to Phoebe about this!"

You quietly laugh, "Well try your best to go back to sleep, hm?"

"I'll try," Cece says as she slips back under her covers. You pull them up to her chin and you kiss her head. As you walk back to her door, she calls for you, "Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad you and Roy are finally together. Now you live happily ever after."

You nod, "Thank you, Cece. Good night," you exit her room and softly close the door behind you.

You let out a deep breath and head to your room, ready to sleep after such an eventful night.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #roy kent imagine #f!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #ted lasso imagine #roy kent au #regency au

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agendabymooner · 11 months

Text

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (4)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Can you actually fall in love fast? or is Tilly just fortunate enough to catch Toto's attention and gain his respect and determination in span of a day? As of this point, she might as well host a slumber party as Daniel and Lewis continue to pester her with the most important topics of her life right now: her family and the hypothetical ones she'd make with Toto.

Content warning: Age gap, brief use of explicit language, discusses the 2014 austrian gp, flirtatious banter, mutual pining kind of romance, platonic relationship with Lewis Hamilton and Daniel Ricciardo, fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: Thank you all so much for the 50 followers! I honestly have been writing these just because I didn't have anything occupy my time and it's a good idea that I posted them up here. knowing that you're enjoying my brain's ideas, it fuels me even more into writing. As of this point I'm currently writing a spin-off for Rush and this series so keep an eye out, I suppose. I hope you all enjoyed today's race because I certainly did (Albon was way too fucking good this weekend, I shit you not). And I hope Alonso's 2nd place makes up for the Father's Day that I'll never get to spend with him. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iv. fast lane but not the race weekend kind

“Regards,

Tilly Marie F. Hearth…”

That should be okay, I tell myself silently as I put away my laptop. It’s only 6 pm, and I already wish to retire to my bed early.

I can be doing a lot, but instead I’m moping inside my hotel room while I’m waiting for Lewis. Being on a paid vacation is nice; I don’t have to do anything and deal with people. But at the same time, I’m craving more tasks to occupy my time because truthfully, I do NOT want to be stuck in a hotel in Silverstone with nothing to do. I spent my early 20’s being away from people, but now I’m entering my early 30’s, I’m slowly thinking that I probably should’ve done more than attend festivals by myself or with my sisters.

None of the people I was around with earlier had looked my way until after they'd been told that I was working in communications and was a boss’ child. The staff from the other teams also did the same—but some of them knew who I was already and had already made themselves comfortable. Just how I wanted.

But then again, this is my first day. And Sunday would probably be my last considering that I’ll be back to my stuffy office the next week.

I can take up the role as a consultant for communications. My father did offer me that role for Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren—telling me that I can do so much more in Formula One than my no-good employers.

Bunch of bullshit, I curse out. He wouldn’t let go of his legacy like that.

I already told him about writing for magazines or simply writing in general, but he still placed these executive positions in front of me as if he knew I’d give in. Sad fact is that he actually is right; I’m close to giving up on my job. If The Devil Wears Prada didn’t warn me the first time, Lauren Weisberger should have at least taken both of my shoulders and shaken them.

It didn’t hurt to think about balancing Formula One and journalism out. After all, it’s what I can do as a journalist—know enough about racing and engines and ensure that my knowledge is being shared through my writing and published works.

I try my best to relax in my bed, lying flat on the mattress with my hands resting on my stomach. The silence is deafening and I can hear my steady breathing. My eyes are growing tired as they continue to look up at the ceiling of my room.

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should come downstairs for dinner with Lewis. If there’s anything that I know about him, he takes his dear time to get ready—and I have an endless closet at home. That’s telling you a lot.

A knock on my door makes me stand fast and rush to open it. Daniel Ricciardo stands there with a grin.

“Oh you,” I blurt out.

Displeased with my response, Daniel cries out, “I’m not terrible all the time, Tils.”

“Sorry,” I shake my head as I correct myself, “I meant that I thought you were Lewis.”

“He phoned me and said we should head down instead of waiting for him,” he shrugs as he sticks his arm out and offers, “let’s go?”

I nod and head to where my flats are, slipping them on with ease as I grab my keycard and wallet.

Daniel only pulled his arm back when I wrapped my arm around it. We descend to the ground floor where the restaurant is located.

A host takes us to a four table seat at a corner. Seeing familiar faces from the venue, I nod at them as a greeting before I find myself sitting across Daniel.

Soon enough, Lewis arrives and we begin to talk about today’s events. Forty five minutes had passed, and we found ourselves conversing in front of our already empty plates.

Daniel asks about my family and all I can tell him has something to do with my mother’s side of the family. I guess out of the wealthy people in my family, I can understand my mother’s connections to the automobile industry. My toxic trait is that I despise my father but love my mother.

The difference is that my mother loves us more than anything and cares for our half-sister more than he does.

But it seems Daniel has focused on a different matter.

“Your mother is— you’re a Ford, Tils,” his eyes widen like an owl as his mouth gapes open. I can practically see a fly entering his mouth.

“My mum is,” I laugh, looking at Lewis as he, too, laughs at Daniel’s shocked expression.

“Mate, she’s a Ford,” Daniel reaches out to nudge at Lewis and gestures at me. “You carry that information around just like that?”

“She’s not really putting it out there for everyone to know,” Lewis chuckles, sipping on his water as he puts it down. “Besides, if you were really into racing you probably have heard about her dad or mum’s family one way or another.”

“I don’t really go digging for information about old money families,” Daniel rolls his eyes as he looks at me again, “you don’t look like you’re happy to be here. For someone who came from families who are into cars.”

“My father insisted on having me work for his teams,” I tell him, “I’m not exactly the brightest for motorsport. I prefer the media more than what my father wishes me to pursue.”

“Have you raced before?”

“I had a karting career at some point,” I shrug, “or at least I started at the age 4. Mum didn’t agree with it and I should’ve started at 7, but my father insisted. I was already competing by 7. My sisters were too, but some preferred equestrian over racing.”

“If my dad was a twat, I’d stop it just to spite him too,” Daniel says as I raise my brows at the statement. He then corrects himself, “What I mean is I’d pursue the karting career for me, not for him.”

“Gotcha.”

Lewis pipes up, “Blanche is a pretty decent woman. You should see her, mate.” He turns to look at me and asks, “Is she coming this weekend?”

“With Aimee and Sylvie,” I nod in confirmation, “I’m not quite sure about Stevie yet but she wouldn’t want to miss out on your home race.” Not elaborating any further, I return to the topic, “My father is absolutely baffled when I quit karting but he can’t do much because Poppy, my mum’s dad, was still alive. So between him and Poppy, he chose not to interfere.”

“But you’re still here on behalf of your father though,” Daniel points out.

“It’s to secure my position and family’s future,” I tell him with a sigh. I look at him then back at Lewis before I say, “Whether I like it or not, I still need to do my part regardless of how much I hate the surname. It’s an obligation that I can’t avoid but it’s alright. It’s not just for me— it’s for my sisters and my future children.” Wow, I’ve only been friends with Daniel for a month and I’m already airing out my dirty laundry to him. Is this what happens when your friends are your sisters and just Lewis?

“You’re taking your elder sister role way too seriously. You can’t even catch a break,” Daniel says incredulously.

I can only nod as I agree; my mother’s capable enough of worrying about them and I should just be doing whatever I want. She cares for my sisters as much as I do but being cut off from my father’s side of the family isn’t something that I’d allow.

It’s not as if my sisters don’t want to join me at the trackside; they want to keep an eye on one of each team in fact. They want to be able to know what kind of thing our father brags about. But much like me, they don’t want to be on the track itself—they’re better off being models because that's what they wanted to be. They’ll join me soon enough, they just need to make a career out of modelling and come to work for the driving teams whenever they’re ready.

“They’ll be in a lot of magazines soon enough,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’d like them to do that first unless they feel like carrying a headache coming from either Brown or Horner.”

“There are three of them,” Lewis chuckles, “if anything, those three would outnumber your team principals. With you alone I got scared, could you imagine Sylvie? She’s feisty.”

“It’s not just to keep them sane,” I roll my eyes, my foot underneath the table kicking Lewis in the leg. The table shakes lightly. “I just started working in this kind of industry. What kind of a big sister would I be if I’m just as clueless? I need to know more, especially if I want to be able to teach my potential kids about it.”

Lewis, the piece of shit, decides that this is the right time to joke about it and say, “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about a future with my boss, Tilly.”

I snap my head to Lewis’ direction too much that I’m thinking I just got a whiplash. My glare hardens when Danny and Lewis’ faces turn red from laughing too much.

“You ought to quiet down, boys,” I hiss, not wanting to look at the people who are giving us the unnecessary attention being gathered by their laughter.

“You have to admit,” Lewis breathes deeply to refrain from laughing again, “you two got along well. Was it because of Dubai?”

“I told you that in confidence,” reaching down in his thigh, I pinch it as he whines quietly. He slaps my hand away as I say, “You’re a shit secret keeper.”

“Wai— what about Dubai?” Daniel, clearly not understanding what’s going on, asks as he looks at me while he expects a context.

I muttered to him, “Met Toto Wolff in 2006. Spoke to him and all that.”

Lewis nearly cries in laughter as he speaks, “She told me about it years ago. She never knew his name–or she refused to tell me who. She said he was attractive alright but—ow, stop it, Tils.”

I pull myself away from Lewis and sit back straight on my seat as I claim, “He doesn’t remember nor think of me like that, Lew. He’s just a silly crush.”

“Is he?”

“He was,” I correct him even if I’m wrong. It’s like Toto Wolff got an on-and-off button in my life. One moment he’s there making me blush the next thing he’s already gone.

“You’ve been single for as long as I know,” Lewis huffs out, “why don’t you try dating again anyways?”

“With your boss?” I raise a brow, “Are you that obtuse?”

“What? He isn’t bad,” Lewis shrugs, returning to his usual composure as he crosses his arms, “the opportunity’s right there. Why are you adamant on not taking it?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get on Christian’s bad side for fraternizing with the enemy,” Daniel jokes.

“I’m gonna kill you, Daniel,” I threaten him emptily, making him giggle again.

“I’m repeating what you said!” He cries out, still laughing as he laughs obnoxiously. Men! Seriously.

“He’s quite interested you know,” Lewis states, his arms now crossing as he leaned against his seat. “He’s playing 20 questions with me whenever you leave. I’m not sure if he’s interested in me winning or you.”

“He’s not interested like that,” I insist, “I’m sure he means well because I just popped up all of the sudden today. Nobody likes to step on the wrong foot of a newcomer. You’ll just make an enemy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel scoffs haughtily, “the guy who’s been asking Christian questions about you left and right— the same person who doesn’t like Christian— isn’t interested.”

“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since 2004,” I scowl, trying to keep my voice quiet as I say, “What makes you think I’ll be able to have an interesting relationship with him?”

“He isn’t subtle about wanting to spend time with you,” Lewis answers, “what did he say again? You’re welcome to be in our paddock anytime? Does that ring a bell?”

Of course I do, I almost huff out, it’s one of the things that I intend to do. Be able to spend enough time admiring his team…

“I know men,” Daniel adds, “and with the way of how he’s looking down at you during the interview? With the heart eyes making contact with another pair of heart eyes? Yeah, that man is in loooove~”

“Like it’s a fast lane.”

Now I can’t deny it.

I like being around Toto Wolff, more than anything. Speaking to him is like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cigar lounge. He’s a gentleman; I’ve always wondered how he’s not married. Women deserve him. Yet he’s here, being the most eligible bachelor in the grid following Fernando Alonso. God, I will snatch him up if I can even meet his level. I doubt he likes his women like me… trashy trying to be classy.

But it turns out, my cynicism is unnecessary. I find myself thinking a lot about the things that could be. In an empty elevator, I wait as it slowly closes. But the call from outside forces me to keep the door open until the person catches up.

The man makes it inside as he stands tall, trying to catch his breath. There’s no way in hell—

“Tilly,” oh my god. I’m seeing too much of him today.

I turn to my left as I dumbly ask, “Bonjour, what floor?”

Toto looks at me with confusion in his face, probably wondering if I’m playing stupid or just stupid in general as he looks past me and says, “You’ve got it.”

Wow, not only am I seeing too much of him, I’m also on the same floor as him.

I nod and look back at the front, I can see him through the reflection from the doors. His polo remains unbuttoned and his hair unruly after running his fingers through it. I can see traces of sweat dripping down his forehead. I probably shouldn’t do a physical examination on him.

I look at him and ask politely, “Have you had dinner yet?” It’s a polite thing to ask, right? Like I’m not coming off as desperate to speak to him?

“Ah,” he keeps his mouth shut for a second and answers, “it is something to take up in my room, unfortunately.”

“Is it?” I ask out of curiosity, “You could have joined others for dinner?”

“Busy, as always,” he smiles sadly, “it’s an endless battle.”

“Quite a shame,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “Do people know time zones or just business hours or is it just something written on papers?” I ask no one in particular.

“My brain doesn’t shut off the moment 7 pm hits,” he tells me with a rueful smile. “It calls for work all the time. So, no. I don’t follow my own business hours policy.” God, I feel sorry for him.

“It’s like a wire, Toto,” I nibble on my bottom lip, not knowing how to express my empathy without looking like an arse, “you can’t plug it back in if you’ve something to prevent it from happening. Like a baby proof.”

“You’re right,” he laughs. “What do you suggest I should do? The baby proof, I mean.”

I watch him as the door slides open, thanking him as he gestures for me to walk out of the lift first. Then my mouth does not stop speaking, “Have a dinner away from your work, for instance. Never hurts to isolate your work once in a while,” he laughs at that, “read a book? I love reading novels— I am currently skimming through Das Parfum. You can even time your break before going back to work because I can assure you that habit isn't good.”

“Do you understand the German language?” He asks me. Mentioning Das Parfum clearly piqued his curiosity.

It was smart of me to bring it up. When he told me earlier that he came from Austria, I knew I could talk to him in so many languages. Like I knew what I should say next. Like a mastermind.

I'm such a fucking mastermind.

My mouth quirks up and I answer, “Wir haben schließlich viele deutsche fahrer.” We have a lot of German drivers, after all.

He nods at me like he listens to everything I tell him. As if he’s following an order or he’s rather impressed with my pronunciations. Nice.

Our conversation leads us in front of my hotel room.

I look at him and gestures to the door, “This is my bat lair.”

“Bat lair?” He chuckles.

“My little humble abode,” I joke. “I can unfortunately hear my bed calling for me. I have to go.”

“Right,” he nods as I open my door and step inside my room. Telling myself to get my shit together, I turn around to see him still waiting for me to head in. That was a surprise.

I suggest, “One way to turn your stressful work day around would be breakfast. If you’d like, you can have one with me tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me on a breakfast date?” He teases, watching me fall apart with my face flushing red. He stops eventually and answers, “I would be more than happy to accompany you before we head out.”

“Okay good,” I laugh nervously, “I’ve no one else with me anyways so there’s that… does seven sound okay?”

“You can ask me for anything I think I’ll say yes, liebling,” boom. There goes my heart once more. He grins gleefully as he says, “I know a place nearby. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“As far as I know I’m the one who asked you first,” I roll my eyes in a joking manner, smile escaping my lips.

“I’d love to have you pick me up but I know the place,” he tells me with a shrug. “Besides, it’s by the tracks. We can head down there together before they start piling up for the day.”

Not wanting to fluster myself anymore, I nod almost eagerly and he exclaims, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Have a good night, bello. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, schatz. Sweet dreams.”

Oh I really am going to have the sweetest dreams ever. Trust me.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #formula one smau #f1 fic #f1 imagine #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #mercedes amg imagine #formula one fluff #f1 fluff

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tossawary · 1 year

Note

Hope you’re doing well! Ive been following your an ding lbh au since it started and I loved the ending SO MUCH! Now I like to believe sy transmigrates only just in time to fall victim to sqh‘s empty nest syndrome.

Hi! Thank you! I'm doing well, though I'm also trying not to fall asleep on the couch while chilling. Again. I hope that you're doing well as well. (SPOILERS for "Stepping Up"!)

I considered bringing Shen Yuan in at the end, honestly, and my strongest idea was having him transmigrate in as Gongyi Xiao or something for a Meet Cute or Meet Ugly with Luo Binghe at the Immortal Alliance Conference. Because I thought it would be really funny for Shen Yuan (who had, at that point, probably been suffering years of his own difficulties in whichever role he'd been given) to be anticipating an abused and neglected disciple of Qing Jing Peak, making all his plans based around The Plot, only to get Head An Ding Disciple Luo Binghe who is shamelessly Shizun's Favorite and an author who has utterly abandoned all original outlines.

But I didn't feel like writing that when I still felt pretty uncertain about the idea. I'm interested in writing about Gongyi Xiao and about Huan Hua Palace politics, but I don't want to "spend" those ideas (for lack of a better word) and that writing energy on a side fic for Bingqiu that I wasn't really feeling excited about. If I'm going to write about Gongyi Xiao, then I have a post-Abyss Luo Binghe/Gongyi Xiao canon divergence AU idea that I'm much more passionate about.

Shen Yuan's place in this AU world is fun to think about, I like Bingqiu a lot, but I also didn't want Shen Yuan to be the only thing people focused on in a fic that was very much not about Shen Yuan or Shen Qingqiu or Bingqiu, but rather the relationship between Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe. I like to use canon as my launchpad and sometimes find things more difficult to write the further I get from canon. If I'm going to write about Shen Yuan and Bingqiu in an AU in the canon setting, then I have another fic idea about Shen Yuan and asexuality that I'm also more passionate about.

I can totally see myself writing a Bingqiu one shot for the An Ding Peak Luo Binghe fic, whether Shen Yuan transmigrates in as someone like Gongyi Xiao or an original character. I think Shen Yuan would probably end up finding An Ding Peak Lord Luo Binghe distressingly attractive, especially because of the undeniable similarities between LBH and SQH accentuated by this AU, and I think that would be fucking hilarious. But I want to sit on the idea for a while longer. I like having a distinct plot idea or a strong aesthetic vision or a really distinct theme in mind before I get started on a fic, and I just don't have that yet.

It felt a little... hmm... I don't have a good word for this. After I explicitly covered Luo Binghe's awkward teenage romantic/sexual feelings for Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe was, in a way, gently rejected in AU, it felt a little weird to then immediately bring Shen Yuan in and say, "Look! It's fine! Binghe finds love with someone else and everyone is safely paired off so we don't have to think about any awkward feelings anymore!" I liked wrestling with the ambiguous nature of Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe's relationship, as SQH dealt with his disciple (and insert character) becoming like a real son to him, and LBH dealt with his desperation not to be thrown away and to receive real affection. I like the idea of Luo Binghe having to go out into the world and find himself.

I think there's a lot to be said still about LBH's relationship to love, to family, to loneliness, to SQH, to MBJ, to Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang, and to any potential future romantic/sexual partner, and so on. So, I didn't want to jam anything in at the end at the last minute while I was still thinking about it.

#fantaasi #ask tossawary #tossawary svsss #spoilers #an ding disciple luo binghe au #bingxiao enemies to partners fic #shen yuan versus asexuality fic #luo binghe #shen yuan

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ladymirdan · 1 year

Text

I've had such an amazing day today.

I guess there is no secret that my interest in 40k has waned slightly recently.

I feel I get less and less comments on my posts/fics/art, despite getting a lot more followers (and with that, a lot more unhinged hate DMs) Ive started to feel like the hobby had lost that spark for me.

I've been into Warhammer for a loooong time.

I first got into the hobby (WH Fantasy) in 2003 and I was immediately hooked. I was blown away by how cool the worldbuilding was, but more importantly how friendly the community was.

My FLGS let me, a broke-ass student, sit and paint my army in store for literal hours on end. Always so happy to see me, despite me hardly ever buying anything. And let me tell you, I was a shy and awkward kid, and they always remembered my name and made me feel so welcome.

I haven't really engaged with Warhammer online until about a year and a half ago when I created my ao3 account. At first it seemed just as friendly as my offline experiences. But recently? I feel like I'm either ignored whenever I comment or try to interact with the community or worse, get told I suck or should go kill myself.

So I just felt it was time to maybe leave, (but I admit, the sunk cost makes it difficult) The only thing I really looked forward to was the minipainting classes I take once a week.

But today I got that magick feeling back. And remembered how much I love this hobby.

I went to my local GW for the new 10th edition 40k release. I’m a time pessimist as usual and arrived 1,5h early 😅 and found out there was only one other guy in line before me, but rather soon a bunch of other people showed up.

Everyone was sooo excited to be there and I made a bunch of new friends in line.

Then I got in and ordered my box (and I also managed to snag the special edition signed book that is a tie in with the box! That felt so much fun, I have never managed to get one of those before despite really trying).

I also got some of the new Death Guard Space Marine Heroes packs. A kid behind me in the queue also got some because he wanted a specific hero (that he unfortunately didn't get) I suggested I open my packs and see if I got one and then we could trade. I did get that model, and he was so excited and thankful, it really made my day since I didnt care that much for that particular model, but to him it was everything.

Everyone in the store was so hyped, and the mood was so great I didn't want to leave, so when I overheard some of the guys I hung out with in line ask if there was a mini of the month they could build, I tagged along.

The store staff was as amazing as always and brought out not only the mini of the month, but also three other models they still had in stock from previous months.

So I ended up building 4 minis in the store along with a bunch of other people.

I met a really nice couple that was pretty new to the hobby and they asked if I was excited for the new box because half of it was Ultramarines (I told them I love the Ultra boys, big chock 😅) but I explained that there was nothing Ultramarine specific in the box and one could paint them as any chapter they wanted.

And boy, they were amazed! They had no idea that all space marines are generic models and they were so curious about other chapters and I tried to explain that there was a chapter for pretty much anything and any colour.

The girl ended up really liking the Soul Drinkers and the guy was on the fence between Blood Angels and sticking to Ultramarines :D

So my advice to anyone else that feels like the hobby is toxic, or is tired of the “my army is soo much cooler then yours/everyone who likes this sucks”, please join the real world.

This hobby is soo amazing, and it is filled with so many happy, passionate people, all loving this weird little hobby.

Over 20+ years, a dozen or more game stores/clubs; I have never had a bad IRL experience with Warhammer. I really wish I could say the same thing about the online experience.

#warhammer 40k #40k #warhammer #hobby #real talk #leviathan #space marines

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no1sharkenthusaist · 1 year

Text

! hsr headcannons for several characters ! [modern au]

♪ In-ter-net-o ya-me-ro ♪!

Y u m i - c h a n i s n o w o n l i n e !

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Characters : Dan Heng, Serval, Blade, Gepard, March

Plot : no real plot, just headcannons about honkai Characters in a modern au setting

Tags : modern au, headcannons, fluff, slight crack, wrote this at 11pm while heading home from a road trip

authors note : omg got a steam deck for my birthday (may 30th) and I. AM. IN. LOVE !!! I could talk abt it for hours and hours but i have my discord for that ehe. Anyways, ive been having fun rediscovering my old childhood games and thats when i had an epiphany. Hsr or genshin boys in a ddlc type scenario!!! Feeling so swag abt the idea. Also i got out of school so more uploads yaya. Thank u all for the support on my intro page yippee. I promise not to let you all down

╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ enjoy !

DANHENG

Now playing : Scrawny - The Wallows

He definitely dresses like with collared shirts and kinda has that accidental soft boy look

English major frfr

definitely listens to lovejoy/wilbursoot and bo burnham

Water drinker enthusiast (even tho he forgets to drink half the time-)

burnt out gifted kid

messed up sleeping schedules

Hes that quiet guy everyone has a crush on to some extent

He looks cold and serious during lectures, but hes actually just daydreaming and has his head in the clouds

Probably stays with the same group of kids he met in middle school because he cant socialize

I think said kids would be march, stelle/caleus, himeko And on ocasion blade, kafka, and silverwolf

Welt would be a chill english teacher that would let Dan Heng sit in his classroom during lunch

he likes going to concerts a lot

Learned to play guitar in middle school but doesnt like playing in front of people

Consider yourself lucky if he plays in front of you

Extremely oblivious to romance

Girls will try to flirt with him but he will just have a blank and confused look

Spends his free time in book stores shopping for records

Ps5 gamer frfr

Theater kid (had a hamilton phase)

SERVAL

Now playing : Shut Me Up - Mindless Self Indulgence

Shut me up by mindless self indulgence on loop

Like its probably to an unhealthy level

Always has headphones in(that gepard gave her for her birthday)(And so loud to the point you can hear the music standing next to her)

(went deaf at the ripe age of 13, after that it was all "huh?" /j)

Shirts from old bands, baggy jeans, fishnets, etc

Had an alt phase

Bad habit of smashing guitars

Dropped out of college after first semester

Had a band in highschool with Blade and Dan Heng that received noise complaints on a regular Basis

Really extroverted and easy to get along with

Loves going to concerts (especially the ones that get crazy like halfway through )

Probably gets in fights during black friday

Addicted to coffee (gepards needs to step in and help her drink something else)

Likes bitter stuff more than sweet stuff

Cares very deeply for her friends

The type of gal to go on road trips with friends and go Camping

Goes to protests every other tuesday

Probably banned from several places

very passionate about things she loves

Loves scary movies and Rollercoasters

The six flags employees have memorized her name

(shes just so cool i wanna be like her fr)

BLADE

Now playing : Consequences - Lovejoy

Theater kid (would never admit it tho)

Kafka teases him about it so much

met kafka and silverwolf in detention

The teachers hate the three of them

Alt kid and never got out of his emo phase

Besties with serval, change my mind

Kafka probably pushed him to join boxing to get his anger out in a less…destructive way

Loves the sleepovers he has with kafka and silverwolf

Broke silverwolf's tv while playing wii sports

Goes to college, no clue what he wants to do so hes just doing liberal studies

Adopted a small stray cat he saw on the ground during a storm

he tries to be tough and mean, but hes a big Softy

Loves the Beetlejuice musical(and mean girls but we dont talk about that)

has probably been on probation on multiple occasions

Probably vandalized the car of someone he didnt like

Kafka has to sweet talk everyone out of getting blade in serious trouble

Hes really good at basketball, he just doesnt like it so he never pushed it further

Doesnt really like or understands sports

probably listens to videogame osts 24/7

GEPARD

Now Playing : Pretty Face - PUBLIC

Getting serval out of trouble isnt a choice, its a lifestyle

Which is ironic, as he is a criminal justice major

But he still will always be her biggest supporter

Dresses (like a costco dad) soft boy by pure accident

Completely oblivious to anything and everything

Enjoys gardening and has a lemon Tree

Cave Town enthusiast

Lemonade Enthusiast

Sends people those "reminder to drink water and be happy" messages

Straight 4.0 GPA student. The teachers loved Him

Was really shy so he didnt have many friends growing up (Serval had to help him out)

Hates rollercoasters, serval drags him around six flags and he screams his head off

Poor guy :<

Still loves it since he loves hanging out with his sister

Student council secretary

No clue how the internet and technology works

Strong sense of justice

That has gotten him involved in several issues

Which ironically, serval got him out of

Wholesome cinnamon roll, pls protecc

MARCH 7TH

Now playing : Cupid - FIFTY FIFTY

That one girl in class that no one could hate

Class representative and student council public relations officer

Photography major (duh)

Social butterfly and very easy to talk to

Want to go out to go eat something sweet while having fun? March has you covered !

March Makes friendship braclets and sells them so she can go shopping

has a secret stash of candy hidden in her dorm

March has a babysitting gig and comes to peoples houses with candy

Shes a little kid magnet, they all love her so much

had a club penguin phase with Dan Heng and they both shudder just thinking about it

learned all her profanity from watching Dan Heng play Call Of Duty

sucks at english, fries her brain like a hashbrown

k-pop girlie

dresses really cute with cardigans and pastel pinks

(watched aphmau, Her favorite one was a mermaid tales and mystreet) [submitted by someone on my discord who wants to stay anon]

plays overwatch and says things like "Hey, thats not nice!"

lowkey kind of a teachers pet-

Loves webtoons and collects the physical releases

! Thats a wrap !

! Join my discord HERE !

! Likes, reblogs, comments are greatly appreciated !

and thank you for reading ^^

♪ Overdose 君とふたりやるせない日々♪

! y u m i - c h a n i s n o w o f f l i n e !

t h a n k y o u f o r c o m i n g ~

#hsr headcanons #march 7th #dan heng #serval #star rail #hsr blade #blade hc #march 7th hc #hsr x reader #Yumi's shark blog that isnt quite about sharks #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr drabbles

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