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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 months

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Take Care of You [10]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[A/N: 🤡. I came back to life to immediately die off again i'm so sorry. here take this next part and all my love. speaking of my love, i already closed beta readers on tiktok but for anyone on here, if you wanna see why i've been so MIA, shoot me a message with your email if you wanna beta read my original work (i do ask that you do a questionnaire afterwards but that's just to help me out). But, imagine a scifi/fantasy where the book 'Six of Crows' meets 'The Last of Us', and I have good sources that y'all like TLOU👀]

[A/N pt.2: I did not edit this to the degree I should have and there is no tag list at the bottom i am so so so so sorry].

10: THE EVIDENCE IS PRETTY DAMNING

The ceiling wasn’t right.

That was your first, foggy thought when your eyes opened. Rather than the bumpy, plaster speckles collecting dust it was smooth and off white. You slowly sat up with a groan, head spinning and mouth dry, and you blinked three times before your situation dawned on you. This was not your bed, not your house. Fuck. You set your hands on the bed to lean back then winced. With a hiss, you pulled your hand up and saw the bandaged injury from last night.

You cradled the hand with your other and turned to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a note on the nightstand. You leaned over. There was a full water bottle and a bottle of tylenol resting on top of a piece of paper. On the paper, in scratchy, nearly illegible, writing was, ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready. Feel free to use the shower and change if you want. ⏤Joel’. You dragged your fingers to trace the words.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed the water bottle and took a couple pills in hopes to nurse the aches and pains you felt. You stared at the words again. Last night, Joel admitted to being married to Sarah’s mom and you had responded by passing the fuck out. You had tried to argue, demand more information, but your body fought against your curiosity. All the drinks you had prior and the fading adrenaline from the fight probably hadn’t helped.

You rose from the bed with a groan and crossed to use the bathroom adjoined to Joel’s bedroom. When you flicked the lights on, you took the first movement to glance around the space. The walls were beige with white tile floors. On one side was a large jacuzzi style tub next to an expansive walk in shower. On the other was ample counter space and drawers with matching him and her sinks. In the back was the small room where the toilet sat and beyond that a walk in closet. The space was lived in. A dirty clothes basket off to the side half full, toiletries on the counter and on the shelves in the shower, you spotted a pair of glasses you had never seen Joel wear resting by the sink on the right side of the counter. That must be the one Joel used most. A toothbrush sat by it and you noticed water by the rim like he hadn’t wiped up when finished.

Also on the counter were a stack of clothes, you stepped toward it and saw it was a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that must have belonged to him. On top of it was a brand new toothbrush. Your gaze lifted to look at yourself in the mirror and you flinched. You looked a mess⏤ your hair, your clothes, everything. You rubbed at your face with a sigh and slipped into a morning time routine despite the unfamiliar setting.

Celina.

The name rang in your head over and over and over again. It didn’t matter that you had been only half with it last night. You remembered that clearly. As you cleaned up, your headache began to improve and by time you left the bathroom you at least felt human again. A new anger bubbled just under your skin. You couldn’t quite yet put your anger into words, but you knew it was there. After washing up, you traded the clothes you wore to the bar for the ones Joel left you. The shirt was worn out, like it was aged, and navy in color. It read ‘Miller’s Contracting’ with a number on it for contact. It reminded you of the kind of shirt a small company would make and not a multi-million dollar one. You tightened the waistband of Joel’s sweatpants. They were at least joggers so you didn’t have to worry about tripping over yourself.

You crossed the upstairs, open space to the stairs. Faintly, you heard the sound of someone moving around downstairs. A brief wave of nervousness had you hesitating at the top of the stairs, but it slipped away back to anger. It seemed that was where your heart was making camp this morning.

Slowly, you descended the stairs. The wooden floors under your feet didn’t creak or make noise as you padded into the living room first. A few couches were situated in front of a wall that held a large flat screen TV and a fireplace. The back wall was made of glass, a window and door all in one that revealed the back patio where a small pool and deck were, and the space beside it was the kitchen. Just as open as the rest of Joel’s house. The cabinets were made of dark wood with matching countertops and at the center was a large island with chairs.

On the island counter looked like to-go boxes of food. You stared at them a moment longer, but a door hidden just out of view on the wall in the kitchen opened. Joel stepped into the kitchen nonchalantly until he spotted you and did a double take. He froze and stared. The two of you were actually similarly dressed. He had on a t-shirt that looked tight on his broad shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Joel looked exhausted.

“Hey.” He said softly. “Mornin’, sug⏤” Joel stopped himself, it looked like he choked on his words, but he locked his jaw and changed direction. “Mornin’. How did you sleep?” You gave a small shrug and a tight lipped smile. “Right. How’s your…” Joel lifted his own hand. “Your hand?”

You lifted it up to stare down at it. The bandages had been pulled away when you washed up this morning. It didn’t look so bad. “It’s fine. Thanks for the⏤ the tylenol. And the toothbrush. And the,” You motioned to the clothes hanging off your frame, “You know.”

“Can I?” Joel nodded toward you.

“I said, it’s fine, Joel.”

“I…” He sighed and the look in his eyes was agonizing. “I know you’re pissed at me. Understandably so. But, please let me…”

You walked over to sit down at one of the tall chairs at the island counter and set your hand on the marble top. Joel mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and disappeared for a quick second. He was back with a small first aid kit again. You twisted your lips when you felt his warm hand cautiously take yours. It was quiet as he reapplied a bit of medicine to the hand before wrapping it up again.

“You don’t…” Joel started then cleared his throat. You never would have used the word anxious to describe the Joel you had gotten to know thus far, but nervous energy seemed to radiate off him. The tension in his shoulders looked painful to keep hold of. “I had breakfast delivered. Some stuff I know you like.” Joel pulled his hand away from yours. “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t wanna.”

“No. I want to.” You replied. Joel looked briefly hopeful. “I want to talk about this. I want⏤ to know. I want answers.”

“Right. Of course.” Joel nodded quickly. “I owe you at least that.” You nodded in agreement. Joel straightened from where he stood and ran a hand over his chest and shoulder with a quiet cough. “Can I make you something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

You gave a small nod, mumbling a response, and watched as Joel put it all together. He poured himself a cup of coffee after serving you. Rather than take the seat beside you, he stood on the other side of the island counter across from you.

“You mentioned the girl from Vegas last night briefly, but how did you know…”

“Yo-yo told me you had a sugar baby before me. That you married her.”

“I did have a sugar baby before you, yes.” Joel sighed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You demanded.

Joel shook his head, “I never lied to you. I just⏤ I never told you, and you never asked.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “That’s what you wanna hang your hat on here? Semantics?” Joel hung his head then shook it a bit. “I didn’t want to believe her, but yesterday Nima texted someone she knows. A private investigator⏤”

Joel’s eyes widened, “You hired a private investigator??”

“I didn’t hire anybody! Nima just texted them and they confirmed⏤”

“You went to a PI before just asking me?” Joel replied sharply. You leaned back in your seat⏤ in shock at his audacity. He must have noticed how you felt because he held up a hand. “I just mean, that’s a huge invasion of privacy and all you had to do was call me⏤”

You pushed out of your seat and turned to leave. Joel called out after you before following. He grabbed your hand to tug you to a stop and you glared at him over your shoulder. You snapped, “If you’re just going to stand there and be defensive then there’s no reason for me to be here, Joel.” You pulled your hand out of his grip and spun to face him. “I understand that getting in contact with a fucking PI was a crazy move, but yesterday I felt a little crazy.” You scoffed. “I felt like an idiot. I felt like a naive, desperate idiot who got played. So, yeah, I let Nima text her cousin’s cousin’s cousin to find an answer because the thought of standing in front of you and asking⏤”

The rest of your words got caught in your throat. You didn’t want to get emotional in front of Joel. More than anything you wanted to keep your cool and be collected. Just in case he did break your heart, you could walk away with at least some of your dignity intact. Joel took a step closer. Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch you, but he did lift his hands slightly in surrender.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m being defensive. Hell, I'm being an ass.” You locked your jaw and let your eyes focus on something over his shoulder. Unable to stare into those deep, dark eyes. “This is… This isn’t an easy subject for me to talk about and I⏤ I panicked. I want you to hear me out. I want you to know the truth.” He shifted in his stance so your gaze was forced to meet his. The longing there made you suck in a sharp breath. “Please. Give me another chance to explain this. I’ll do better.”

You rubbed the back of your neck with your non-injured hand and gave a small nod.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Joel repeated himself. He took a step back but kept his shoulders facing you as if he thought you were a flight risk. Joel motioned to his couch. “Do you wanna sit? I’ll grab our drinks.” You sighed and meandered over to sit down on one end of his leather couch. Joel didn’t move back into the kitchen until after you were seated. He came back with both of your drinks and handed you your own before sitting on the other side of the couch. One cushion of space between the two of you.

You took a sip, trying to gather your thoughts, before nodding once. “I want to know about your wife first. Celina, you said? I want to know about her.”

“Yeah.” Joel swallowed thickly. “Do you remember anything I mentioned about Sarah’s mom before?”

“I didn’t know her name.” You replied. “You said the two of you had dated for, like, three months?” Joel nodded. “She got pregnant, and you worked it out. Things were fine, but two weeks after Sarah was born she left. You never said the two of you got married though.”

“Because we didn’t.” Joel replied softly. “I asked. Proposed to her when we found out she was pregnant with Sarah, and she said no.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he wasn’t meeting your gaze anymore. Joel stared down at the coffee mug in his hands. “I loved her. She was my first real love, actually. I knew our situation wasn’t ideal, but… I wanted it to work. I saw a future with her.” Joel ran his thumb back and forth on the edge of his mug’s rim where it reached. He chuckled, “When Sarah was born… Those two weeks? It was⏤ It was good. But, uh, then she left.” Joel shrugged in a way that attempted nonchalance but did not meet the mark. “Her leaving hurt for a lot of reasons. For one, in no way was I prepared to take care of a newborn.”

You set your drink on the coffee table before leaning back. Joel stayed silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and you recognized the look of someone getting stuck in their own memories. You spoke up, “What happened then? When did you get married?”

“Celina is…” Joel began. He rubbed his jawline. “I spent a lot of time being furious with her⏤ hating her. Not just for leaving me behind, but for leaving Sarah. Sarah deserved better.” He shook his head. “But she… she came to me, needing help, and I⏤ I couldn’t say no. Not to her. And not because I still had any sort of feelings for her, but because no matter how angry I was at her she gave me Sarah.” A vulnerable softness filled his features and he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze fully. “Without Celina, I wouldn’t have Sarah.”

You could understand that. You knew that his daughters meant absolutely everything to Joel. More so, despite all the shit going on between the two of you right now, despite Joel arguing otherwise, you knew he was a good man. You had a very hard time picturing him saying no to anyone who came to him for help.

“When did she come to you? And why? What problem is solved with marriage?”

“Three years ago. Just about.” Joel mumbled. “It’s… She was sick. Cancer. The only feasible treatment was going to bankrupt her because her insurance refused to cover the cost. Celina came back wanting to see Sarah. Get to know her before she died.” Your eyes widened in surprise at both the news and the confusion that came with trying to connect the dots. “I told her that was up to Sarah⏤ she was old enough to make that decision for herself and I was gonna support her with whatever she chose.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay…”

“Sarah decided she did want to meet her mom. And I…” Joel paused. He set his coffee mug down on the coffee table as well and laced his fingers together. He was fidgeting. Another nervous tick of his. Joel could never seem to keep his hands still when he was caught in his own mind. It was like his hands so desperately wanted to fix what stressed him out⏤ even if it wasn’t a physical problem they could fix. “I⏤ I couldn’t stop thinking… remembering…”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, and the palpable pain had you shifting closer. It dawned on you. Words clicking in your mind. You set a hand on his forearm and gave it a small squeeze, “Your mom.” Joel had told you, ages ago, that he had lost his own mother to cancer. “You lost her. I remember you telling me.”

“Yes.” Joel unlaced his own fingers so he could settle one hand on top of yours⏤ still resting on his forearm. The tip of his thumb dragged back and forth against the knuckle of your index finger. Tracing the shape of it. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t the exact same, I know that, but… Sarah technically had already lost her once.”

“Joel…”

“I offered to pay. Pay for the treatment in full.” Joel’s thumb stilled to squeeze your hand once. “I’d cover all the costs, but⏤ but Celina refused. Said she didn’t want,” Joel scoffed with a humorless laugh, “Didn’t want to be a ‘charity case’. Said she didn’t come back for my money, or for me to fix the problem, she came back for Sarah.” Joel shook his head. “We argued in circles for God knows how long. We finally settled on this. If we got married, she’d have my insurance instead of her own. My insurance would cover most of the treatments and she’d pay what it didn’t.”

You understood that. It matched up with what you knew about Joel. “How is she? Now?”

“In remission. Since seven months ago, she’s been in remission.” A small smile flickered on his features. “She lives in Waco. Wanted to be closer to Sarah. One of the only reasons I could stomach all of us coming to LA while Sarah stayed in Texas for college. I knew she’d at least have her there in case of emergencies.”

Your face scrunched in question, “Then why… Why are you still married?”

“I don’t have a reason. Not a real one. Not beyond me just being lazy.” Joel said firmly. He held your hand tight, keeping it pinned to his arm, like it was a lifeline. “Up until now, it didn’t matter to me. It made no difference. That’s it. I swear to you, sugar.” The nickname fell out of his mouth like second nature. “And I’m working on changing that already. You can ask Tommy or⏤ or hell I’ll give you Celina’s number or our lawyer’s number. We started the official divorce paperwork the day you and I got back from Vegas. It was the first call I made after dropping you off at your place.”

You did believe him. As Joel held your gaze, all you could see in those soulful eyes was a deep desperation. An ache seeking the comfort that would come with reassurance. “I believe you.” You said softly and his eyes closed in relief. His entire body sagged as the tension seeped out of it. You really did believe him, and of all the ways this could’ve gone wrong technically you supposed this was the best case scenario. However, learning this made you realize what aspect of this bothered you more than most. You slid your hand out from under his. “Why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was… I was going to. After.”

“Why though? Why after?” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you trust me with this?” Joel’s face fell again. “I know we haven’t known one another for long, but…” You bit back your words before you admitted to the naive truth that you felt some sort of connection to him. That being with him was as easy as breathing and you foolishly let yourself get carried away. “I don’t…”

Joel quickly scooted closer, a hand held up in surrender, “Had nothing to do with⏤ with me not… I do trust you. I do.” Joel shook his head. “Me not mentioning this had nothing to do with you. It was me.” His words reminded you of Vegas. This excuse was sounding familiar and the more you heard it the harder it was to believe. He hung his head and winced. “I need to tell you about⏤ about Erina.”

“That’s…” You began. “Is that your sugar baby?

“Yeah.” Joel nodded. “But it was more complicated than that.”

“So, I’m gathering.” You mumbled. The words of frustration left your lips before you could filter them. In this situation, you felt you had every right to be upset and bitter, but the look of pained guilt that filled Joel’s features made every cell in your body vibrate with regret. It felt like you had just kicked a puppy, and those sad, brown eyes were heart wrenching. “Sorry.”

Joel shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t. You don’t need to be sorry. I do.”

“You’re talking to me⏤ answering my questions.” You replied with a small shrug. “The least I can do is not be petty.” You twisted your lips. “So? Tell me about her.”

“She wasn’t my sugar baby to begin with.” Joel started softly. He turned his head to keep his gaze on the mug sitting on the coffee table, and you found the story easier to stomach without those powerful eyes focused on you. “My company got hired for a job. It was a big one, which is why it came across my desk. Some summer project. A finance guy wanted his vacation house completely renovated in Malibu. I decided to take a more hands on position for the entire thing. Stayed on site to work.” It wasn’t a shock to hear. You were plenty aware that Joel spent most of his work time on site if he could. Joel only donned a tie for the board room when Tess wrestled him into it. “The guy who hired us wasn’t there, but his wife was. At least, I thought it was his wife.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Joel gave out a sad chuckle, “No. She wasn’t. Erina was… lively and energetic. She was fun, and I… It had been a long time since I experienced that kind of light hearted fun. Plus, the client, when he did come around, was such an asshole to her and I⏤” Joel sighed. “She left him midway through the project, but we didn’t get involved with one another until after it was over. When it started, it was great. The honeymoon phase was…” His voice trailed off as a small, sad smile crossed his face. You found your stomach churn in jealousy at him talking about this other woman. It was damn near nonsensical, but the emotion rose up regardless. “The issues started a while in. I realized that we saw the relationship differently. I thought… I thought what we had was real, and she only saw me as her new sugar daddy.”

For a while, we just went on. I didn’t think the difference in how we viewed things would matter. Stupid, I know, but… I thought I was happy.” Joel mumbled the last bit. He lifted a hand to rub at his jawline. “As you’ve probably figured out, I’m not⏤ I’m not good at this. Relationships and…” He tensed. “Some people are just better off alone, but I’ve been too hard headed to accept that.”

“Joel.” You interrupted the flow of his story at his claim. You didn’t believe that and you especially refused to believe it about Joel. “That’s not⏤”

“Things were still working until I…” Joel shook his head. “I told her about Celina. Tried to explain the situation to her, but when she told me to get divorced and I couldn’t⏤ that’s when it all started to crumble. I didn’t actually end the relationship until after I found out she was seeing a few other guys.” You opened your mouth the speak, the beginnings of a sentence you didn’t know how to end slipping from your tongue, but Joel suddenly turned in his seat to face you and the look in his eyes silenced any attempt at speech. He hesitantly reached out and let his hand settle on top of yours. When you didn’t pull away, he squeezed his grip tighter. “You and Erina are not the same. It wasn’t until after we stopped seeing one another that I realized how terrible our relationship had been. So please, please, don’t think I’m comparing you to her because I’m not. I know how she reacted is not some⏤ some default and you wouldn’t necessarily react the same, but… but every time I considered telling you about Celina, all I could imagine was you leaving. And I, selfishly, stopped myself from admitting the truth to you because I didn’t want to ruin this the way I ruin everything else.”

You murmured his name. Early on, you recognized Joel had trust issues, but you had never realized it stretched this far. Joel didn’t trust even himself. It broke your heart that he thought so poorly of himself. No matter how upset you were at the man you knew deep down he was a good. His mistake had hurt you, but it hadn’t been born of malice. You saw that now. Fear and self doubt had brought the two of you to this crossroads.

“Joel, that isn’t true.” You said softly. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“The evidence is pretty damning.” Joel chuckled sadly. You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head quickly and held out a hand to stop you. “That’s not the point of… I should’ve told you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I should’ve told you, been up front about it all, and I’m sorry.” Joel sighed. “I’m sorry, sugar.”

He had answered a number of your questions and with the truth came the relief of knowing. Plus, the answer technically hadn’t been your worst case scenario. God knew your brain was plenty capable of thinking up some nightmare-ish situations. So in comparison, it would be worse. Still, there was an itch that hadn’t quite yet been scratched.

“Why… Why seek out a new sugar baby?” You asked. His experience with Erina had obviously been less than ideal so why try again? You shook your head, “Why me?”

“Those are two very different questions.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I …” Joel began hesitantly. You could see his thoughts jumbling in his mind as he struggled to string one along. Conversations like this were hardly considered Joel’s comfort zone so you did appreciate that he was trying. That went a long way as well. “Erina came back into my life not so long ago.” You felt your stomach drop and your heart clench painfully. The emotional response was so physical that it nearly made you sick. Joel must have noticed because he quickly reached out and settled a hand on your shoulder. “No. Not like that. She means nothing to me. She came to me wanting to get back together, harassing me about it, but I’ve made it crystal clear to her and everyone around us that I have no interest in restarting something with her. Especially now.”

“Okay…”

“The idea was…” Joel winced sheepishly. “The idea was to hire a sugar baby as a way to show her that I was serious. We were done and I was moving on.” It was ridiculous enough that from anyone’s else mouth you wouldn’t have believed them, but they had been said in Joel’s sincerity. “I know how that sounds.”

“Not good. It sounds not good.”

“I know. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. Tess, Sarah, Ellie.” You found it interesting that his daughters knew about their father’s love life to that degree. It spoke to how close they were and his stance on honesty. Joel chuckled. “Actually, the only person who agreed with me on the plan was Tommy, but I suppose that should’ve been a sign to give it up.” Your lips twitched up mildly in amusement. “But, deep down I knew it would hurt Erina, and I… I wanted to be petty.”

You shrugged, “And I’m apart of this… how? To annoy Erina?”

“No.” Joel said firmly, almost roughly. “Absolutely not. Remember the day you bought me that coffee? I said I had been meeting with some other, um, women?” You nodded and let him continue. “By time I made it to the that coffee shop, I had already half decided to give up the idea. It was obviously going poorly. I was literally just looking for someone I wouldn’t mind spending time with and I couldn’t even do that. But you were… God, meeting you felt like a breath of fresh air.” He messily ran a hand through his hair while his other continued to fidget. “You stayed on my mind and when I spotted you again…”

“I…” You tried to find the right words. The ones he would want to hear. It felt odd to give forgiveness for a misunderstanding, but you knew that’s what he was seeking. Validation. “I forgive you.”

The relief on Joel’s face was staggering and when he held a hand out to you, you knew exactly what he was asking for. You closed the space and let him pull you into a hug. His warm, large hands enveloped you as he craddled the back of your head to hold you as closely to him as you could. You wrapped your own arms around him and lazily dragged your thumb up and down where it rested.

You did forgive him for this. That was the truth and you meant it with your whole heart, but this entire experience was eye opening. You had fallen for Joel so dangerously fast. It made you realize that if this had been a different scenario, one of the nightmare-ish ones you imagined, it would’ve destroyed you. With the speed you were moving in, you would’ve hit the ground at a million miles per hour and shattered. You forgave Joel, but you needed to figure out a way to better guard your heart.

“I’m sorry for reaching out to a PI.”

“No. Don’t be.” Joel pulled back and the hand at the back of your head dragged forward to cup the side of your face. He sighed, “You were right. I should’ve handled this better, but I… I do appreciate you saying so.” The two of you sat in a moment of silence and for the first time since you met him that silence felt awkward. Joel must have felt it as well based on the clearing of his throat and fidgeting. “So… Are we— Are we okay?”

You nodded, “I think so.” The tension left Joel’s shoulders and you quickly stood. “I should… I should go.”

“You’re off today though, aren’t you?” Joel stood as well.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Stay. Please.” Joel motioned back to the kitchen. “Have breakfast. I called Tommy and he’s gonna bring over your stuff.” Your eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged. “Tommy is gonna bring over your friend who has your stuff I should say.”

You hesitated, nervous after this heart to heart, but Joel held out a hand to you. Equally a peace offering and lifeline. You just weren’t sure if it was a lifeline for you or him. You set your hand in his and he gave it a small squeeze. The smile on his face was soft and open. Two words you knew not many people were able to claim as a description with him.

Joel led you back toward the kitchen and when you turned to try and go back for your mug he stopped you. He settled you on one of the bar stools, hands lingering on your hips briefly, before going back to the living room for both your mugs.

“You know, when I pictured you spending the night here this wasn’t quite how I thought it’d go.” Joel chuckled and grabbed a plate. You leaned on the counter and waited since you knew that plate he was making was meant for you. It took a second for his words to dawn on you. Joel pictures you spending the night in his home with him? Your face and neck warmed at the thought. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had those kinds of ideas, but hearing it from him still made your heart flutter. Even with the disaster miscommunication still lingering in your rear view mirror. “Here. Lemme know if you want anything else.” Joel set the plate in front of you and handed you a fork. After making his own plate, he pulled the barstool beside you closer and sat down. He sat sideways to face you and his knee pressed against your stool. “We could, uh, we could have a day in.”

“Hm?” You took a bite of your food.

“We’re both in pajamas and neither of us have work.”

“You don’t have work?” You asked in surprise.

Joel shook his head. “I already called Tess and told her I wasn’t coming in today. Told her I was feeling sick.”

“Did she actually believe you?” You smirked.

“No.” Joel chuckled. “She didn’t. But she also didn’t call me out on my shit, so…”

He gave you a charming smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and you found you appreciated it. Things weren't perfect, but for the sake of what had been you were willing to try.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugardaddy!joel miller #i forgot what tags i used to use #oh lord #uh #reader insert #joel miller

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russellsppttemplates · 23 days

Text

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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leclerc-s · 6 months

Text

mamma mia! - part three

masterlist previous next

mia tate do you think i would go to german jail for punching a reporter in the face?

daniel ricciardo please tell me you haven't already done that.

mia tate no.

mia tate but hypothetically speaking, if i did, it was because he asked me a really gross question and he was annoying.

max verstappen oh my god. this is hilarious. please tell me you did.

charles leclerc she did. it's on twitter.

daniel ricciardo is this why fernando was cackling earlier??

mia tate yes, and he also pulled me away from the reporter before he could punch me. hypothetically speaking

max verstappen alright, i'm settling this the only way daniel has taught me

max verstappen added two people

mia tate well you got one thing right, you are motorsports biggest headache.

max verstappen i didn't add you so i could be bullied. i added you so that someone could fucking explain what happened earlier. christian is glaring at me and i had nothing to do with this

lando norris oh she rocked the shit out of that reporter.

alex albon who taught you to punch and can they teach me?

mia tate my ex boyfriend

george russell well that took a turn mia tate AND NOT IN THE WAY YOU GUYS THINK!! I LIVE IN NEW YORK! ONE WRONG MOVE AND THEY'LL MUG ME! abigail tate you idiot.

fernando alonso oh it was great maxie, the reporter said some things i will not be repeating, it went on for ages and mia took it like a champ until finally he asked a really gross question and she punched him. i think abigail almost bit him, or that's what twitter is saying.

fernando alonso being the driver closest to them i stepped in when he looked like he was going to hurt mia and abigail. sebastian vettel, being the great guy he is, called security on the guy before you could show up and go all mad-max on him.

max verstappen i would not have done that.

daniel ricciardo oh my god

lance stroll oh this just made my day so much better.

sebastian vettel lance, not the time lance stroll i feel like i should be honest. they should know the mess they're getting into.

pierre gasly how is this whole thing going to work? like is mia moving to monaco or are the three stooges moving to new york?

charles leclerc she just said we could get mugged! i am not moving to new york

max verstappen what? your pretty face can't take a hit? charles leclerc are you flirting with me? abigail tate how have you two not fucked? matter of fact how has max not fucked daniel or charles? lando norris THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING!! JUST FUCK EACH OTHER AND GET RID OF THE SEXUAL TENSION!

mia tate why would i move to monaco??

daniel ricciardo because that's where we live? you could bring your emotional support mia tate bunch of tax evaders you people are. a french, an aussie, and a dutch, who would've thought? charles leclerc I'M MONEGASQUE!! mia tate TAX EVADER!! charles leclerc I WAS BORN THERE!! MAX AND DANIEL ARE THE TAX EVADERS!! max verstappen AND YOU'RE JUST AN INCHIDENT BITCH!

sebastian vettel can you stop acting like children?

esteban ocon i'm not even religious but i pray for that child's sanity

charles leclerc sorry seb

max verstappen sorry seb

mia tate for the record, i'm not sorry

daniel ricciardo i, for once, did nothing wrong

mick schumacher can i be godfather?

max verstappen you're a child?? how are you supposed to look after another child mia tate but he's so adorable? how can i say no to him?? charles leclerc by saying no?? mick schumacher haters. let me have this one thing

carlos sainz let me be godfather. i'm charles teammate.

daniel ricciardo we are not having this conversation right now. max has been silently plotting how to murder a reporter. can everyone please focus?

max verstappen yes, like what was his name?

sebastian vettel NO MURDER!

mia tate wow, you really are a dad.

sebastian vettel someone has to be the responsible one here and it's not fernando, kimi, or lewis.

kimi raikkonen 👍

kimi raikkonen 🤰🏼?

lewis hamilton yes kimi, the girl is pregnant kimi raikkonen 🦥 🦡 🏎️? lewis hamilton yes, no one knows who that dad is yet. it's either max, daniel, or charles. kimi raikkonen 😂

abigail tate how did you get that from a few emojis?

lando norris max is the sloth because he's sid from ice age

max verstappen fuck you norris

george russell daniel is the badger because people call him honey badger

alex albon and charles is the car because of this

mick schumacher does that make mia, sally?

abigail tate OH MY GOD THIS IS GREAT!

mia tate CODE DAD ABBY! CODE DAD!

lance stroll what the fuck is code dad? is she going into labour?

lando norris don't be ridiculous, she's only a month pregnant. their dad is probably here.

lando norris OH SHIT! EVERYONE RUN FOR COVER!

mia tate don't be so dramatic. he's not an asshole, he never abused us. he just had bigger dreams for us and when we failed to do what he wanted he disowned us.

sebastian vettel that's still not good mia. he left you two when you needed him. you're children.

kimi raikkonen 🤬

esteban ocon even kimi agrees, which is a first

esteban ocon uh oh sebastian has adopted two more kids. mia and abigail, welcome to the family lance stroll he’s only known them 2 hours?? esteban ocon the girl is pregnant because of his former teammate and the mini versions of him. he’s attached lance.

mia tate he was a single dad raising three kids under the age of 8. he tried his best sebastian. it may not have been the best but i turned out alright, jury's still out on abby.

daniel ricciardo do you two need anything? like do you need us to keep him away from you two?

abigail tate we'll be okay danny, besides, i think sebastian and fernando have made it their mission to be our personal bodyguards. like mia said, he was never a bad father, he just made some mistakes.

robert tate why did i just get asked around the paddock if i was excited to be a grandfather? who got someone pregnant or who's pregnant?

abigail tate i forgot we let the idiot name this chat.

marc tate take that fucking back! i am a stressed medical student in his final year of school, let me fucking be.

robert tate AM I GOING TO BE A GRANDFATHER?? YES OR NO??

marc tate do you think i have time to date?? much less sleep around? wasn't me.

abigail tate kids are icky.

robert tate mia?? is it you??

mia tate mia can't come to the phone right now. please leave a message after the beep. love, the war criminal.

marc tate war criminal?? what the hell have you two been up too.

mia tate mia is unavailable - seb

mia tate 🖕- 7️⃣

abigail tate her phone's been hijacked by three world champions.

marc tate YOU GUYS ARE AT SPA??

marc tate THE ONE WEEKEND I CHOSE NOT TO GO WITH DAD??

abigail tate what the fuck happened to 'i'm a medical student, i have no life?'

marc tate school does not matter when it comes to f1.

mia tate DAD! I FUCKED UP! I WENT TO GREECE, SLEPT WITH A FEW PEOPLE AND NOW I'M PREGNANT! - MIA

mia tate SHE'S LYING - WAR CRIMINAL

robert tate abby?

abigail tate oh, she's not lying. CONGRATS YOU'RE GOING TO BE A GRANDFATHER!!

marc tate oh my god she's the girl that f1 twitter is losing it's mind over?

abigail tate congrats your grandchild is either half honey badger, half mad-max, or half il predestinato. we're not quite sure who the dad is.

marc tate HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM MIA!!

robert tate abby, is she okay? our problems aside, for once, how is she?

abigail tate she's fine or at least as well as anyone who is faced with this current situation is. ignoring the sexist and misogynistic comments people seem to throw at her. she punched a reporter today, i almost bit his ankles (in theory).

robert tate can we talk? all three of us?

mia tate if you want to talk to mia, you're going to have to apologize for your actions and choices against her and abby. - seb

mia tate MAN UP AND APOLOGIZE TO YOUR DAUGHTERS! - WAR CRIMINAL

mia tate mia will talk to you but i will be present. there is no excuse for what you did to your children. - seb

abigail tate so that's why they call him paddock dad

mia tate heyyyy - charles

mia tate pleasure to meet you two! hi abby! - daniel

mia tate why does charles get to be called il predestinato but i get stuck with mad max? it's not fair! - max

mia tate i swear to god if one more driver steals my phone i will be committing crimes against them.

robert tate okay. i made choices i'm not proud of and i will take responsibility for my actions. i have been going to therapy now. i can see where i made mistakes.

mia tate wow. it's almost like mom leaving didn't just affect us and it affected you too. WHICH IS WHAT I'VE BEEN FUCKING SAYING FOR YEARS!

marc tate oh that she has been saying. therapist also said that dad was afraid of you and abby leaving so he pushed you two away. it's not an excuse btw, that's what dad's told me. look at that maybe we should all go to therapy.

abigail tate maybe max can join us!

mia tate fuck you - max

abigail tate wow is that any way to talk to your sister-in-law verstappen??

mia tate MIA'S MOVING TO MONACO! - CHARLES

robert tate what the fuck?

mia tate I HAVEN'T EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT IT! THE ANSWER IS NO!

mia tate FOR NOW! - CHARLES

marc tate well, this family has a lot of issues to solve.

taglist: @six-call @barcelonaloverf1life @janeholt3 @queen-aria-things @camdensreg @mycenterfold @woozarts @vellicora @nichmeddar @thisismereading @inloveallthetime @baw-sixteen @floxly @dear-fifi @chiliwhore @ilove-tswizzle

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! listen i needed someone who was a motorsports fan and had played a doctor and i could only think of one person, patrick dempsey. (i've never seen an episode of grey's anatomy in my life) i was also going to make him an asshole but i do that too much, so i gave him a redemption (sort of). is it a redemption? i also know nothing about therapy because i've never gone, feel free to correct me if i get anything wrong in that aspect.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #f1 fic #f1 instagram au #formula 1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #mamma mia series #fanfic #fanfiction #daniel ricciardo x female oc #max verstappen x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc #f1 x mamma mia crossover

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shrubdaddy · 1 year

Text

elucidative | l.greenleaf

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: elucidative |. /ih-loo-si-deyt/ | verb | to make lucid especially by explanation or analysis | y/n is only a little dumb

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: legolas x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

a/n: Hiii - Sorry I've been MIA - work has been a bit more hectic and I've been having a hard time finding time to write! I could not stop thinking about the Bridgerton scene with Charlotte and George. Lightly inspired by @reality-warp 'Rávamë’s Bane Trilogy', quite literally one of my all-time fave fics and authors in this fandom and is a literal queen in world and character building so check out her fics if you haven't already!

“Manwë’s breath, how much higher can this wall get?”

Reaching for yet another tendril of the vines climbing up the wall, you attempt to climb higher up the stone wall.

It was a precarious situation — one in which you did not expect to be but were not entirely surprised to find yourself in.

You scaled the stone walls attempting to reach the top of the wall to escape yet another suitor. With flowing sleeves laced with snagged threads and leaves woven into your hair, you don’t quite know how long you’ve been attempting your half-scattered escape plan. At this moment, all you knew was that you’d been in this dreaded courtyard for over an hour and you would not be waiting another minute to be trapped and shackled for the next “prince” to come around.

As a ward of Lord Glorfindel, you were of course expected to adhere to the life of a lady in every way possible. You’ve studied every subject, attended every lesson from etiquette and mannerisms to reading and writing in Khuzdul, and attended each and every dreadful social event your father has encouraged.

Feeling your grip falter yet again, you stumble backward and glare at the very metaphoric yet also a very real wall in front of you.

You have always strived to be the perfect daughter in every way possible. However, in regard to love and courtship, you refuse to follow the ancient, decrepit tradition. Between the many years of dodging conversations and offers of marriage, you’ve reached way past the age of courtship, spending many years avoiding each and every suitor thrown your way.

Rather than bubbling with excitement, you felt the fear of the unknown settle in. Having so much to live for and not enough time to experience, you think of your time spent with the twins and the Rangers of the North — time spent traveling, exploring, and living.

You remember joining the twins and meeting Aragorn… meeting Legolas. He was an elven ranger you befriended through Aragorn. He was strong and sturdy, and for a moment you thought you were in love. The camp up North was a place where not many talked of their past but where they all focused on the present. It was a simple life but it was the life you were able to create for yourself.

Lost in the thoughts of the slow spiral of your sanity, you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you as you reached yet again for the closest, protruding stone on the wall —

“What in the world are you doing?”

Without turning to even see who it is, you let go of one hand waving your intruding guest away.

“Please mind your own business, sir. You can escort yourself out — possibly, somewhere that is anywhere but here.”

You continue your ascent without a second thought but slipped down the wall as stone slowly tore up your hands. Stepping back, you place your hands on your hips and take a look at the growing annoyance in front of you. This stupid wall.

You hear an exasperated sigh behind you and felt someone lightly, grab your shoulder, pulling you from behind.

“Excuse me, sir. But you will unhand or you risk losing your… Legolas?”

Turning around, you were shocked by the familiar face of someone you were completely and utterly infatuated with over the past couple of years. Paralyzed and flustered, you couldn’t help but notice how clean and ethereal — you have never seen him this clean before; his muddied boots were somehow clean and the ragged pants you were so used to was exchanged for a less holey look. Somehow these fit even better. You feel your eyes gaze up but froze — you were staring too long.

“Lose my what?” he asked with a little smug grin.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing. On the contrary, you can keep everything… It was nothing…” you rambled as you quickly turned around.

You hear him step a bit closer, coming behind you on your side to examine the wall you were so desperately climbing less than a second ago.

“What in Arda are you doing here, Y/n?” he said with his curious, blue eyes. Though a few feet away, just his presence causes your mind to go in a scramble.

“Me? What are you doing here?” you exasperated. Fiddling with your hands, you begin pacing back and forth, pretending to examine every bit of the wall, looking anywhere but him.

Look anywhere but his eyes, Y/n. That is how we’ll survive his cursed beauty.

“You are climbing a wall. If anyone should be questioned, it is you,” he bit back.

You quickly move your shoulder to release his grip and turn around.

“First of all, I live here. Second of all, please do mind your business, Legolas. I am quite a bit … oof … I’m quite a bit busy here. and I’m running out of time.”

Stepping towards the wall, you begin to attempt to climb yet again. If anything, it was to break free from his distracting grip on your body. Ignoring the growing warmth on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but notice how large and warm his hand was and how one touch made you feel like hot honey dripping down your body.

Shaking off the startling moment, you were determined to leave. And even he could not stop you.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing something.”

“I am not”

“Yes… you quite obviously are are.”

“I am n o t.”

“Yes… you are,” he said firmly.

Relenting — you turn back around to face him. Beautiful face and all. You notice how his head is turned slightly down, his eyebrows furrowing just the slightest beginnings of a small smirk staring down at you.

“Fine,” you relented. “If you must know, I am trying to figure out the best way to climb over this disgustingly high wall and escape this dreaded meeting with this so-called ‘prince.’”

“You’re trying to what? With who? Whatever for?”

“Well, the first thing — hmph …” you grunt as you turn back around to attempt to climb for the fifth time in a row. “The first thing is that my dearest father has been parading me around to different suitors, a Lord here, a Duke there — and now, um, it’s apparently another ‘prince’.”

You take a step back because rather than focusing on climbing, you feel a sense of frustration overcome you. The situation of late has finally dug its claws into you... feeling a greater weight on your shoulder than you have originally led yourself to believe. You feel him standing behind you — the burning intensity of his stare on your back.

“No one has spoken of him… no one has spoken of this so-called Prince of Mirkwood?” You continued, “What if he has the personality of a gremlin and the looks of a troll? The Valar knows the little patience I have for men.”

“Gremlins and trolls aside — does what he looks he really matters to you? ” he asked.

“No… Of course not. It’s the not knowing and the fact that I do not know him or his heart that I do not like.

You take a step back to take a look once more at the wall in front of you. Glaring with all of your might, in hopes that your internal rage can burst a whole through these dreaded walls.

“Y/n —you must know... “ Legolas began.

Your eyes run through all the nooks and cranny’s vine-covered stone beast, ignoring Legolas’s words for only a second. There it is. A protruding stone just two feet away from the top. You found one last way you have yet to try.

“Thank the Valar! I think I found a way.”

You walk towards the wall once again, mapping out the new path of vines and protruding stones.

“I think if I can just reach this stone I can lift myself up! If you lift me just a little, I believe I can reach that vine and use these stones to climb up,” you said excitedly.”

“You want me to lift you up… so that you may… escape?”

“Yes, obviously. Did you not hear of threatening the gremlin-troll prince? Please, Legolas.”

“Your father will know that you are missing? The twins have just arrived as well?”

“Those are tomorrow’s problems, Legolas. The prince will be coming today,” you whined.

As you begin your ascent, you feel your foot slipping from the stone. Despite this, you stretched your hand above your head to grab the vine. As you reached, you feel the stone beneath your foot crumble and in a matter of seconds you find yourself falling.

“Lego—”

“Y/n,” he cuts you off. “I have no intention of helping you escape.”

Standing a little too close, you can feel the warmth emanating from his body. As you gaze up to his face, you see he’s wearing an emerald green tunic, soft and silky — something far nicer than the typical garb you always see him in.

“And why not? There is little time to —.”

Your finally glance up to look him in the eyes and —

“You’re wearing a crown,” you blankly stated.

Confused, you oh-so-slowly begin to piece the puzzle together.

“Yes, I am wearing crown,” a small grin appearing on his smugged face.

“Where in the world did you get a crown?”

“It was given to me,” he said as he looked around feigning boredom.

“By who?!” you retort.

“My father.”

“Your father? What does— is he like a king?”

“He is a king,” he said frankly.

“Which makes you a — “ you slowly piece the information together.

“A prince? Yes, a gremlin-troll prince to be exact,” he retorts with now a full grin and staring down at you.

“And you said nothing?” You frantically exclaimed.

“I figured you’d realize at some point,” he chuckled.

You stood there reflecting on all your life decisions at once. Every conversation, every hidden glance. He was a prince.

“I thought it was common knowledge and that you knew of my title,” he said quietly. “I apologize for not disclaiming it sooner.”

“So if what you’re saying is true…” you teased. “You just assume everyone thinks of you as royalty? That’s quite the assumption”

“Y/n, you know I did not mean it like that,” he groaned.

With a little giggle, you stepped away from him and asked “Should I call you, sir?”

“…Y/n, what?”

“Oh my, I’ve never bowed.” Your voice shifts into worry, “Is this grounds for beheading?”

“Y/n, no.”

“I should bow.”

“No— you should not.”

“I’ll bow.”

“Y/n — stop.”

“Please sir, I am merely a lowly peasant. Have mercy, your highness,” you exclaimed as you lower your head and drop into the deepest curtsy.

As he attempts to stop you, he reaches for your arm hoping to put an end to your jester.

As you back away and dodge, you look at him, batting your eyelashes, and cry “My liege, spare me from this punishment I only wish to live.”

Ears turning red with a desperate voice, he begs “Y/n, please.”

As you step back once more, he’s quicker this time and grabs your arm, pulling you close. your chest crushed against his, he drops one of his hands to your waist and the other to your back. You were so close you felt his breath caress your face. As you look up, you find him staring intently at you.

As you stare at each other, you couldn’t help but break into giggles over the preposterous situation. As you begin to giggle, he looks away trying to hold in his laughter, only to also laugh at the situation.

It felt nice — to feel free and silly, if only for a moment.

As both your laughter calms down, he looks back down at you asked, ”So what do you think of the gremlin-troll prince?”

“Nothing too horrid, he’s actually quite dashing,” you teased.

“Dashing, hmm?” he chuckled.

Unaware of everything around you, you were both startled to hear the courtyard doors open with footsteps following. Jumping from each other's arms, you separated a good distance away only for you to see your father and Elrond turn into the corner section you were standing in.

“Oh, good. You’ve met!”

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cupid-styles · 6 months

Note

omg ok so blurb idea for ginger ale bc u said u needed inspo

i know u kinda already touched up on this in the main story but what if mias like completely drained from school like its exam season and she has to study but shes also somehow failing classes even tho she studied and is swamped with work but cant get up to do anything bc shes panicking and stuff and idk maybe she pushes him away bc shes freaked out and hes like huh bc she never snaps at him like that bla bla and then some angst and fluff and comfort 😭

im so sorry this wasnt supposed to be that long but inspiration struck😭💀obviously u dont have to write it jus a suggestion

omg LOVE THIS!!!!! here's a little something for you :))

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: angst (all is solved in the end), harry being a dummy, age gap romance (8 years)

based on this one-shot!

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry has never seen Mia so exhausted before.

Granted, they've only been officially dating for a few months, but she's typically a relatively organized student. It's something that he's always admired about her — he can think back to his days in university and immediately remembers scattered deadlines and far too many hungover mornings, resulting in constantly missing classes.

Then again, he's never seen her during finals season, and it's apparent that she's feeling the impact of papers, exams, and one too many late nights spent studying.

Because of the nature of their lives, finding time to spend with one another without work or school is often difficult. It's important to Harry that they actively set aside an evening or two each week that's just for them. No discussion of board meetings, lectures, or any stressors — he likes to keep it simple with a delicious and filling meal, a movie on the TV (whether or not they watch it is a separate factor), and his girl nestled into his side.

But for the first time ever, Mia's texting him to cancel.

Under any other ordinary circumstance, he'd be more understanding. Truly. But it's been almost a week since he's seen her, and he's feeling... well, needy. He misses her! And he knows that distance is good, blah blah blah, but this is their time — and it feels like she's just brushing him off, as if he barely matters.

It's why he ends up calling her on his way home from work with Reese driving smoothly and calmly up in the front. Harry drums his fingers against his knee as he listens to the dial tone, a frown on his lips as he waits for her to answer.

"Hello?"

Relief washes over his chest despite her anxiety-ridden tone. "Hey, I'm heading home from work. Do you want me to have Reese come pick you up?"

She sighs frustratedly, "Harry, I just texted you that I can't come over tonight. I have to study."

"You can't give up a few hours to spend with your boyfriend?" he fires back, an accusatory edge to his voice, "I've barely seen you lately."

"You've been in school before, H, you know how stressful exams season is. I need to do well."

"Mi, you're the smartest person I know, you'll be fine if you take some time away from—"

"I won't be, actually," she suddenly snaps. "I'm already failing one of my most important classes and if I don't get at least a B+ on the final, I'll have to retake it next semester. So no, I can't just slack off for a few hours, I need to study, Harry."

Immediately, he pauses. Mia has never gotten angry with him before, vice versa. And he doesn't think he's being particularly unreasonable — if anything, he feels she is — but he's mature enough to know that nothing's getting solved in this conversation. Not when she's clearly tired and stressed. Instead, he opts for the more caring-boyfriend-approach.

"I didn't know you were failing a course. Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Because you can't solve everything!" Mia exclaims, sending a pang of hurt rattling through his chest. "I need to go, alright? I'll see you soon."

With that, the line goes dead.

. . .

Even when Mia falls asleep on her couch, textbook in her lap and a highlighter between her fingers, she can't believe Harry.

The next morning, when she has a persistent ache in her neck and her back feels like it's broken in two, she knows school isn't the only stressful thing her body's responding to.

She thinks dating an older guy is great. Dating Harry is great. Until moments like this, when he somehow forgets that people — including his girlfriend — need to work to get certain things in life, and that they won't just be given an entire company a month after graduation. She doesn't doubt that he understands that on some level, but from the perspective of a partner — well, she thinks he's being pretty insensitive.

Her fingers twitch at her sides in class as she tries her best to pay attention, wanting nothing more to grab her phone from her bag to see if he's texted her. Midway through the day, though, there's still nothing. She can't believe he still hasn't apologized for how he acted the previous night, and it only makes anger fester in her chest even more.

Finally, by the time she trudges home in the cold (December is nearing, and with that comes miserable gusts of wind and flurries of snow), she's had it with his silent treatment. She's barely through the door when she decides that she'll be the one to break the tension — only, when she kicks her shoes off at the door, she notices that her kitchen and living room lights are on, and she surely turned them off before heading out this morning.

Gripping her phone in her hand, she quietly tip-toes out of the entryway, nervous that there's some sort of... homely intruder eating her snacks or watching TV. Instead, she gasps out in shock, clutching her chest when her eyes fall on none other than Harry.

"What the fuck?!" Mia exclaims, her heart thumping quickly with anxiety. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

She squints her eyes, feeling her eyebrows nearly shoot up to her forehead. "So you call. Or text. Not break into my house!"

"You gave me a spare key, Mia—"

"That's for emergencies!" she shouts, suddenly feeling like the living room is slowly getting smaller and closing in on her.

"But you never would've let me come over—"

"Harry, I was literally about to call you when I walked in the door. I'm still mad at you for last night! And you're only making me angrier by being here!"

Tears well up in her eyes as she spits the words out at him. She never thought she'd be in this position with him — it hurts her to even verbalize her anger.

"Wait," Harry stands from the couch, a furrow in his brows as he crosses his arms over the button-up he likely wore to work today, "You're mad at me?"

Mia stares back at him like he has two heads.

"Yes," she slowly replies. "Do not tell me you're mad at me."

His throat bobs. "Yeah. I am."

"For what?!" her anger festers in her chest all over again, exploding like an overflowing pot of boiling water.

"You— you haven't been around lately. You haven't been spending time with me or treating me like a priority."

She squints her eyes, her fingertips finding her temples as an ache begins to settle at the sides of her head. With a shake of her head, she turns around, stomping back towards the entryway of her apartment.

"You need to go," she decides, not even bothering to shed her jacket off yet, "I can't talk to you right now. You're being incredibly unreasonable."

"So you just want to walk away, then? We're not gonna solve anything, we're just gonna keep ignoring each other?"

"I was never ignoring you! I was waiting for you to apologize to me, only to find out that you think I'm in the wrong!"

Harry scoffs as he follows her down the hallway. "Well, I'm not leaving. I want to fix things. And I'm not going until we do."

"Is your approach to annoy me into apologizing?" Mia snaps.

"No," he mutters with a roll of his eyes, "Maybe we're both just being emotional."

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Do you still want me to go?"

Mia shifts her stance from foot to foot. With a noisy sigh, she shakes her head before mumbling out, "No. Let's just... talk about it."

He nods. There's a silence lulling between them as she stands with her back pressed against the wall, stubbornness apparent as she crosses her arms over her chest. He swallows and rolls his lips into a thin line.

"I'm sorry for coming over unannounced. That was very immature of me and crossing a boundary. I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to see you."

She keeps her eyes on the floor. "I just wish you'd texted or called instead. I waited all day to hear from you."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeats, his sock-clad feet taking a hesitant step closer to her, "It makes me feel stupid, how needy I can get. I know we're both busy with our own lives but I adore you, Mi. And I hate being away from you."

"I hate it, too," she mumbles, her bottom lip slightly pouted. "And you're not stupid for being needy... I just need you to understand that I'm working hard trying to get my education, and I need you to respect when I'm stressed or busy."

"I will. I'll do better."

She glances up to look at him. He looks tired, his eyes sad. With a quiet sigh, she lifts her hand to press her palm against his warm cheek. The prickles of his facial hair serve as a harsh juxtaposition from the soft skin beneath.

"I'm sorry, too. I never want you to feel like I don't care or I don't want to be with you. I just get so overwhelmed."

"I understand," Harry coos, wrapping a hand around her wrist to bring it to his mouth. He presses light kisses into her palm. "I know you care. I have to work on being more secure in our relationship."

Mia hums at his kisses, his gentle nature a welcomed change from their arguing.

"You know, you could always move closer," she murmurs with a smirk. He chuckles.

"Yeah. Or you could always just move in."

She rolls her eyes, "Then I'd really never get any work done."

"Mm, but think about how nice it'd be," he mumbles, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer. "I'd cook you dinner all the time, bring you snacks and tea while you study... you'd have your own office, of course. We could get a dog or a cat, too. Share a bed every night... you wouldn't have to use travel sizes of all your skincare stuff either, because everything would be there already."

She smiles to herself as she leans her head on his shoulder. The thought is nice. So nice. But they both know it's too early in their relationship, regardless of how deeply they feel for one another. Maybe it's a dream to work up to — a sweet, domestic life together.

"And you know what would be the best part?" she asks, brushing her lips up against the shell of his ear.

"Hm?"

"I'd get to use your heated bathroom floors every day."

#bestie asks #this took FOREVER #sorrrryyyy hehe #sugar daddy h #writing

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missmaywemeetagain · 6 months

Text

A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving 💗🧣🦃

A very happy Thanksgiving weekend to those who celebrate! ❤️

This blurb came out of nowhere, in a fit of Thanksgiving inspiration (and a special thanks to Norah for inadvertently nudging me towards a Thanksgiving prompt)! Because of this, it is not overly edited or revised. I will say, I'm not sure yet just how canon I want this to be in terms of the PS Universe, but I figure it came out of me for a reason, so I decided to go with it for now.

I think my current moody headspace influenced the vibe for this--for us fans, it's a slightly indulgent "what could have been" scenario. But that's PS in a nutshell, isn't it? 🥹

Anyhoo, I hope this hits you in the feels! And I hope you know just how much you matter to me, even though I've been a bit MIA recently.

Much love xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: It's 1977, so...medical issues/trauma/strife. Panic attack. Thanksgiving stress. A little hint of sexy at the end bc I couldn't leave you on a melancholy note! 💋

A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 1977

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. P, but the oven is out. Lamar took a peek, but the thing is as cold as ice and don’t look like it’s gonna be warm any time soon,” Mary says, looking as distraught as you feel. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch it sooner.”

The naked, trussed, and cold turkey on the counter mocks you.

“No, no, it’s not your fault, Mary. We’ll…figure something out,” you try and reassure her, but it feels like a weight has just been placed on your chest. You pinch the bridge of your nose to stave off the massive headache that began early this morning when Nicky barged into your room at the crack of dawn sobbing because he’d had a nightmare that Mr. Gobble Gobble, a monster turkey, had eaten Daddy instead of the other way around.

This was one of many nightmares that your poor little boy had suffered since August, but certainly the first starring a murderous Thanksgiving turkey. He’d barely been consolable and neither of you had gotten back to sleep.

You take a deep breath, holding back the tears that threaten your vision.

Today needs to be perfect. It was supposed to be perfect.

But you should have known. After all, this year has been far from perfect.

You force yourself away from the wave of despair trying to overcome you. No, we’ve been lucky, you think. It could be so much worse.

Unfortunately, your nerves are shot, which makes sense considering the last few months you’ve had. You’ve kept it together so well. You’ve had to. For Nicky. For Elvis. But that tried resolve begins to crumble with the pressure of it all, as though everything that has happened is hitting you all at once.

Now you have a house full of hungry people, Elvis will be home any minute, and your usual quick-footed problem-solving skills have flown out the window. Your hands begin to tremble.

The panic swells as the kitchen swarms with people looking to you for direction, and in that moment, Nicky runs through the adults, chased by one of the other kids. It happens so fast—you barely have time to register the commotion before disaster strikes.

You watch in horror as the kids fly into the sideboard, knocking the precious side dishes and desserts onto the floor with a resounding crash.

The collective gasp of the adults in the room sends your panic into overdrive.

Thanksgiving is officially ruined.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you shout. The entire room goes silent. It’s not everyday Elvis Presley’s calm and collected wife loses her shit. No, that is something usually reserved for the man himself.

“Well, that’s not quite the welcome home I was expecting,” a familiar baritone chuckles from behind you.

You whip around, your bottom lip quivering. “Elvis?” you whisper.

He’s standing right here—standing! On his own!—leaning on his cane for support, a twinkle in his eye that you haven’t seen in ages. One you weren’t sure you’d ever see again. And the sight of him finally being home again after so many months in the hospital is more than you can bear. After standing tall and strong for him for so long, you crumble into a thousand pieces. An uncontrollable sob chokes out of you, your tears overflowing.

“Aw, honey,” he says quietly, slowly making his way to you, waving everyone else out of the room with the commanding flick of his hand. They exit in a flash with their concerned and pitied looks. Not that you care, because the second you can, you are falling into your husband’s open arms.

“I’m so sorry…your homecoming…it’s all ruined,” you sob into his chest, being mindful of the long scar down the center. Feeling the warmth of him engulfing you is overwhelming. His scent, untainted by antiseptic and hospital smells for the first time in a long time, swirls around you, caressing your senses.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let it all out, Satnin,” he coos, stroking your hair with his free hand. “Hers has been so strong for hims, but hims is home now.”

The tenderness of his baby talk in your ear sends a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, staining the silk of his blue dress shirt. He’s dressed up, you think absently, knowing this is a huge thing. Even before that fateful August morning, he’d been mostly wearing his tracksuits when he wasn’t performing. He’d been so uncomfortable and in pain, you’d understood why.

You bury your head into his neck, pent up emotions violently shuddering through your body as you let your tears fall freely for the first time in months. You can barely breathe with how you wedge yourself into him, with how he holds you tight. He’s so much slimmer now that the edema is gone and his colon has been tended to, you realize, but he’s still soft in all the right places. You still fit against him perfectly, and his grip on you makes you realize he understands just how raw you are.

You cry more, thinking about how the last time he was here was when you’d found him unresponsive on the bathroom floor. How you’d never been so scared in your entire life, not even when you yourself had brushes with death.

It's a miracle he’s here at all. None of you, doctors included, were sure if he’d ever step through the doors of Graceland again. Not after the heart attack, or the coma, or the complications from his various surgeries. It had been one blow after another, for weeks, months. But somehow, in true stubborn Elvis fashion, he’d pulled through.

He’d gritted his way through healing, through physical therapy, through weaning off so many of the meds he’d been on before and during his hospital stay, and he hated every second of it. He’d been livid about the colostomy, but you’d had no care for his vanity when you’d had to make the decision to save his life. You didn’t care if he hated you because at least he’d be alive to tell you so. He’d gotten past it, mostly, especially once he was feeling better.

The entire ordeal had terrified him. Something had changed in him in those weeks he’d lingered between life and death, something he wasn’t ready to talk about just yet, but even with all the setbacks, his determination to come home was intensely motivating.

Which is why you’d wanted it to be special, and why it being Thanksgiving had so much meaning. Elvis was finally coming home. Then everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.

“I wanted everything to be perfect for you. You deserve it,” you say quietly, sniffling, holding him as tight as you dare without wanting to hurt him.

“Darlin’, just bein’ back home with you and Nicky is more than I ever dreamed of. I don’t need no big fancy dinner or welcome home committee. I jus’ need you.”

You pull back then, your heart about ready to burst, and look at him. He looks downright debonair with his silvery hair (which you’d convinced him not to dye back after it had grown out during his illness), freshly cut and shorter than it had been in years, fluffy but brushed back off his face in a style reminiscent to when he was younger. His apple cheeks are full and have more color than they’ve had in months.

“What?” he asks looking down at you, almost bashful under your gaze.

You reach up and cup his freshly shaven cheek, smooth and soft under your palm. Those deep ocean blue eyes of his threaten to swallow you whole. Staring into their depths, you don’t want to imagine a world without him in it anymore.

“I just love you,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out without choking up again. “So much.”

Eyes shining, Elvis pulls you up and into him. His lips are as sweet and as soft as you remember when they press into yours. The kiss is full of yearning, of love, and of everything you two have been through the past twenty years. It’s truly like coming home.

The kiss turns hungry then, more so than you expect. It’s been so very long since you’ve had each other in this way and it surprises you how readily your body remembers, despite all the pain and trauma you both have experienced. You open for him, and he moans when his tongue brushes against yours. A fiery wave of heat blisters through you then, hastily banishing away your tears.

Despite all the challenges you’ve faced over the years, you’ve always felt the pull of him in your soul. You’ve always wanted him, neededhim, even when you convinced yourself to forget because you thought you couldn’t have him. And now, after almost losing him for good, you can think of nothing else but him. The warmth of his body pressed against yours causes you to melt. The way his lips and hands roam over the curves of your body sends you soaring.

You thought you’d never have this again. It had almost broken you.

“I’m here, baby. I’m home, I promise,” he mutters into your skin, as if reading your mind.

You kiss him deeply, yanking him into you by his pretty shirt, taking his breath away.

He pulls away and presses his forehead to yours, and you can feel him sway on his feet, a little unbalanced.

“Good news—looks like Little Elvis is back in working order,” he says breathlessly, pressing his thickening erection into your belly. He seems pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, with everything dire that happened, it hadn’t even crossed your mind as a concern, but it makes sense that it could be an issue. You grin up at him with the knowledge that it isn’t, then roll your hips against him.

He groans. “Bad news—not sure I have the energy to do all the things I wanna to ya, and we got a house full of people.” Doesn’t stop him from grabbing a handful of your bottom, however.

“Oh, that’s never stopped us before, now has it?” you muse, walking your fingers gently down his chest and over his belly to palm his length.

“Lord have mercy, woman,” he moans, his eyes fluttering closed. You notice him lean more heavily on his cane and instantly ease up. One blue eye opens with a quirked brow. “Hey now, I din’t say stop.”

You laugh. “Well, it seems dinner is ruined anyhow,” you say, surveying the disaster of broken dishes and scattered food all over the floor, and the cold, raw turkey on the counter. “Maybe we better get you upstairs to rest.”

Rest is, of course, the furthest thing from your mind now, which you let him know with a little squeeze to his butt.

“Mmhmm, yes, I definitely need to lie down,” he mumbles as he peppers you with kisses. Suddenly, he freezes against you. “But, honey, I-I-I’m not sure how much I can do,” he whispers, a wave of uncertainty washing over him.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll take it slow. Real slow. One step at a time, like fumbling teenagers,” you say lightly, cupping his face and looking up into his eyes. “Or we can just kiss and hold each other. I’m just happy you’re here, baby.”

He nods, seemingly reassured by this. “I know I don’t say it as much as I should, but I thank God every day for you and for what we have together, Satnin,” he says quietly, brushing your hair behind your ear, kissing you gently. “I love you.”

Your heart and body ache for him. “We better get you upstairs to “rest”before I start crying again,” you snuffle, laughing, slowly walking with him toward the stairs.

“Well, tears aren’t entirely off the table…I can think of a couple good ways I can make you cry,” he teases, nibbling at your ear.

“Elvis Aaron, you did not just…” you gasp.

“What??” he says innocently. “Am I wrong?”

A shiver runs down your spine and settles in the heat of your belly.

You’ve missed him. Terribly.

But you do have so much to be thankful for this year, namely for the infuriatingly talented, generous, and stubborn man you married and are gingerly leading up the stairs for the first time in months.

In fact, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#a pink scarf thanksgiving #pink scarf universe #elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis 1977 #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis fic #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis imagine #big daddy elvis #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction

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jayenator565 · 7 months

Text

My Tanthamore Comfort Fics

We were talking about comfort fics in the Tanthamore discord and I realized I have too many for a normal sized reply, so here's a tumblr post instead. In no particular order i've reread these fics...maybe too many times.

I'm just gonna list em by author cause that's easier. Keep in mind we may have different definitions of the word comfort.

@commanderbuffy

650 ft2 - Ok so like envision these girls have been best friends for forever and they've been secretly pining for ages, no sense of personal space, they can read eachother like books AND they were roommates!

The Tanthamore Affair - This fic has everything, one bed, fake dating, celeb au, the fic that changed the meaning of a certain emoji and all the tropes you could want really

@badlance

We've got to find other ways to make it together - this one line says all you need to know

"It is the greatest irony of Jade Claymore’s life to be a certified genius who is nevertheless in love with an idiot."

@spybrarian

More Than Just Survival - as far as 5+1 fics go this one has me in a CHOKEHOLD

I scream at your chest for as long as I must

one night at the start of the end of the world

@ilovemyships (i think you need an AO3 account to read these gems)

you won't believe it (they think we're lovers)

don't wanna pressure (but friends don't kiss friends)

@acre-of-wheat - Acre's way with words should be studied

Network Connectivity Issues - I have never related to a character more than I relate to this Jade

The Dark

The Bite

@jlmichigan

Out of the Cuirass - one of the first tanthamore fics I ever read actually and I still come back to it every so often

@stbot

lay down your armor (come lie bare with me) - saintbot has a catalogue lemme tell ya but this one for tanthamore is just so heartwarming

@overkill-max

Escaping Fate - the Kit runs away fic that everyone needs

Dil3mma (idk their tumblr right now sorry)

A Sword And A Shield (And Everything In Between)

Deja-Brew - the loveliest coffee shop one shot

Jad3dEt3rnal (idk if they have a tumblr either)

This Daydream is Dangerous - cuddly vampire Jade, need I say more?

ana_chronistic (idk if they have a tumblr either x3)

Oops. I proposed. - fake dating x 100, fake proposal it's like fake dating to the next level and I love the growth of communication and pacing in this.

@barmaid-anon

do what you feel now

you want a good girl that does bad things (to you)

fulfill (an obligation) or keep (an arrangement)

we simply don't have time to unpack why these are comfort fics, we're just going to accept it and keep going.

@thecsquirrel

Sword and Shield - I love this look at what post S1 life could have been like for the gang, revisiting Nockmaar, seeing Galladoorn, getting into the evil Elora storyline with Graydon, spending more time with the Nelwyn and in the Wildwood it's just everything

@wigster07

What a pleasant surprise - a fic of one of my other comfort fics, I know it's like fic-ception in the best way possible. If you liked Tanthamore Affair I have an inkling this will be right up your alley

@isabrella @jade-claymore @allthefakepeople @resurrecho

those rumors they have big teeth - BAND AU need I say more? I don't need to but i'm going to, this fic has everything Kit and Jade in a band, Kit's leather pants, gay-ifying songs, MAMA MIA, totally gay best friends who have basically been dating for years but won't admit to it, Jade gets to be a bit problematic as a treat, inner band fighting, what more can you want?

@swashbucklery

meet you where the spirit meets the bones (tanthamore 90s werewolf au) - its a SERIES of these repressed gay DORKS and they're werewolves, there's such a charming way to how this author writes them I legit can't even with these two gays

@onlyshestandsthere

these walls come tumbling down - look, we don't have time to unpack why there's so many were-related supernatural esque fics on my comfort list and I know this is only 2 chapters in but I can already feel the comfort in all the hurt ok I dont even have to wait I already know i'm gonna be rereading this like monthly

I'm gonna have to stop there even though I know i'm still missing some! If someone asked me what my favorites are we'd be here all day XD

#tanthamore #tanthamore fics #fic recs #jade claymore #kit tanthalos #willow #willow 2022

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theresthesnitch · 2 months

Note

For word game:

Sweetheart ❤️❤️

Ohhhh okay, yes. So, this is a fic that I talked about a long time ago and never finished. Pithy title "Remus wrong text Effie." Unfortunately, also potentially abandoned. Longer snippet for context.

(Send me a random word and I'll find where I've written it!)

~~~

Remus: Hey Mom. I’m missing you a lot today. It’s Thanksgiving, you know. This is the third I’ve had without you. Do you remember the year that you taught me to make stuffing? I wish I had paid more attention. I’ve been trying to make it again, but I just can’t quite get it right. I’ve got some that I’m going to eat with a turkey sandwich in your honor. I love you. I miss you. Mom: Oh, darling. I’m not your mom, but I’m sorry you’re missing her. Remus: Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t know they’d given her number away. Remus: I won’t send a message again. Not Mom: Sweetheart, do you have somewhere to go today? Remus: I’ll be fine. Not Mom: Honey, I’m a mother myself, and I would hope that someone would ask my boys the same question. So really, do you have somewhere to go? Remus: No, ma’am. Not Mom: Let me send you our address. We sit down to eat at 2 pm. You’re welcome to bring your stuffing if you want, but we’ve got plenty of food. Remus: How can I be sure that this isn’t some sort of scam to human traffic me or something? Not Mom: <image of a woman with salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun with an apron that says “Life is what you Bake it” smiling at the camera> Not Mom: My name is Euphemia Potter, but you can call me Mia. Remus: <image of a boy with curly hair and freckles looking shyly at the camera> Remus: My name is Remus. Remus Lupin. Mia: You look about the same age as my sons. I’m sure they’ll be happy to meet you. Remus: Are you sure it’s okay to come? Mia: We’ll see you this afternoon, Remus. Remus: Thanks, Mia. Remus: Um Remus: Sorry about saying shit. Remus: And saying it again. Mia: It’s okay, dear. Mia: Sometimes you just have to get the shit out.

#snitch answers asks #word excerpt ask game #snitches get snippets

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idontblushsrry · 2 months

Text

Levitating|| Shunsui Kyoraku

Pairing: Shunsui x GN Reader

WC: 1,555

A/N: This started as a writing exercise so that I could get back into the flow of writing again but I like it so I'm posting it. Sorry I've been MIA for like 2 years, I'll be posting on again/off again for a while. Also I changed some of the lyrics of the song, Dua Lipa stans pls don't come for me.

Warnings: None, some swearing?, there's talk of marriage because I feel like the Soul Society doesn't really have "dating"

Shunsui + Levitating

I believe that you're for me, I feel it in our energy // I see us written in the stars

Shunsui knew that he was an old man. It was a notion he never attempted to disavow himself of, finding it to be a pointless endeavour; Besides, he was proud of his age.

With age, comes wisdom, one that he has refined enough to know not to deny the fluttering of his heart whenever he so much as heard your name. For him, it was nothing to be embarrassed about, no matters of the heart were. He would readily admit that it was a bit disorienting. One moment he’d be talking with Nanao and suddenly his breath would be stolen at the slightest hint of your perfume.

You possessed a gift so unique, a hold over him like no other. Being in your presence somehow managed to send him back to his days in the academy, leaving him feeling like nothing more than a lovesick student. You’d set his heart alight and made it seem as though the world was slipping away every time you smiled. Your visage immediately righted any wrongs. He was sure that your laughter could cure any affliction he may be ailed with. To put it simply, Shunsui had found himself utterly enraptured by you and yet, he didn’t mind. The butterflies you’d managed to elicit from him only added to the weightless feeling he’d become stuck with since meeting you.

We can go wherever, so let's do it now or never, baby // Nothing's ever, ever too far

You hadn’t treated Shunsui any different from normal, but it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The usually laid-back yet sharp captain suddenly became ditzy and distracted whenever you so much as glanced at him. He was quite obvious, and though he hadn’t quite acted upon his feelings, he’d made it clear where he stood. His schedule as head captain didn’t allow him free time at the best of moments and yet Nanao somehow found herself overencumbered trying to fit ‘Lunch with Y/N <3’ into Shunsui’s schedule.

“I don’t see why you don’t make things official with her. Everyone already knows that you two are sickeningly in love with each other”, Nanao would frequently complain.

Shunsui would always fix her with a look that would make her regret saying anything and reply, “Matters of the heart can’t be rushed.”

If you asked Nanao, it was all arbitrary bullshit. If she voiced that particular complaint however, Shunsui would “remind” her that she’d “understand when you have someone to love”.

Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes//Shining just the way we are

“Oh Shunsui, this is lovely.”

As you cooed over the late-night picnic that he set up, he took a moment to examine your features. The curve of your mouth, the slope of your nose, the reverent way your hair framed your face. Everything about you looked lovely as usual, bathed in moonlight however…

He’d give you anything you wanted.

When you looked at him with those eyes, endlessly rich and glittering with the light of the night sky, he couldn’t help but yearn to kiss you. Even just a gentle press against your lips, oh how he’d kiss you so lovingly. He’d hold you so gently and ask if he could have just one more, one more, one more.

Your gaze flickered down to his lips.

He ran his tongue over them and he swore your eyes grew darker.

You placed a tentative hand into his hair, nervous but sure fingers weaving their way into his tresses. He swears then and there that he has never loved his hair more (if only so that there’s more of him for you to touch).

He cups your face with his hand. You lean into his palm and smile. He feels that weightless feeling come back as he leans forward to feel that smile against his skin when--

“Oh Shunsui look! Did you know there were going to be fireworks tonight?”

He did, it’s one of the reasons he planned a date on the rooftop of his home. He wanted you to see the fireworks and he wanted to see the way your skin would look bathed in the multi-colored light. He doesn’t regret the way your face lights up, this time in awe, but he does wish the timing could’ve been a little better.

He supposes the feeling of your body pressed against his is an apt substitute.

I feel like we're forever, every time we get together//But whatever, let's get lost on Mars

It is not long after the night with the fireworks that Shunsui decides that maybe Nanao was right. He found that the temptation of you was far too much for him to bear. He’d been distracted since that night with thoughts of you, driven himself half mad wondering what could’ve been if he’d leaned in a fraction sooner.

It isn’t until he visits your office for a quick cup of tea (something that both you and Nanao have scolded him for) that he has this realization however. You tell him that you don’t have much time to chat, Seireitei Communications is running some special issue from what he can recall, but you’re happy to spend this time with him.

As you get up, telling him he’s free to stay as long as he’d like, “Although, you really should get back to work Shunsui, you’ll stress poor Nanao out”, and leave, he feels a sinking feeling for the first time in relation to you. It all just clicks for him that he wants the feelings he has with you to last forever. He wants a lifetime of levitating, of your joy, of your glittering eyes locked onto him, he wants you for as long as you’ll have him.

He realizes that the fluttering feeling comes back at the mere thought of calling you his spouse.

As he floats back to his office (he isn’t quite sure that his feet ever touch the ground), confusing every person he passes along the way, he places an order for a ring and decides to have a talk with you after things settle down.

Later, when you drop by his office with snacks as a small pick-me-up, you ask him what’s got him so giddy. He merely replies with a look that turns heated the longer he looks at you. It softens at the adorably flustered way you mess with your hair and look away from him. You try your damnedest to avoid making eye contact with him, squirming in such a way that, if he were less of a gentleman he’d pull you close and feel how affected one look made you.

As it stands, he decides he can wait a little longer.

‘You want me, I want you, baby’

After mulling it over, he decides he wants the proposal to be a private affair. The entirety of the Sereitei may know of your feelings for each other but that didn’t mean they needed to see this. He wanted to keep the way that your face-- nightsky eyes glimmering-- would light up to himself. He never considered himself to be a selfish man but he supposed when it came to you, everything became unexpected.

He still remembers the way his stomach, twisted in knots, became miraculously clear when you smiled. He asked if marriage was what you wanted, if it was ok to marry you. All the more reason to keep the proposal private, it’s much harder to reject a public suit from the captain of the 13 Court Guard Squads (you’d still reject him if you wanted regardless, another reason he was nervous).

You looked at him, trying to piece together what he was asking before deciding on your answer. “I’d love to marry you if that’s what you’re asking me Shunsui.” Somehow, your smile grew even larger, he wasn’t sure what his face looked like but he’s sure his grin matched yours.

Just thinking back to that day makes this moment all the more important. In the weeks following that conversation, you’d joked that you’d be eagerly awaiting his next move. He’d welcomed the challenge, stupidly. Now he was standing here fretting over if the grass was green enough, what if you suddenly became allergic to his shampoo-- He hoped that you wouldn’t notice the clamminess of his hands.

Another power that you found yourself ordained with, making the great Head Captain nervous. He could sense your spiritual pressure before you, which made him snap out of ‘panic mode’ into ‘focused commander mode’.

When he saw you, dressed up beautifully, jewels in your braided hair. He relaxed incrementally, this wasn’t a battle to be won, you were the one he loved. He was proposing, all he had to do was speak from the heart (easy) and hope you’d accept (he was sure you would but he was nonsensical at the best of times).

He saw recognition in your eyes, like a loose thread that has finally been tucked back into place. Your eyes tear up as he moves to ask you the question that has plagued his mind for months.

You nearly burst into tears, nodding happily and sealing your engagement with a kiss.

I'm levitating

#x black reader #idontblushsrry #anime imagines #kyoraku shunsui x reader #shunsui x reader #shunsui x black reader #bleach imagine #bleach x reader #bleach imagines

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laufire · 1 month

Note

if you're willing, would you mind sharing more of your thoughts on mia/jason? B/c i personally can't see mia wanting anything to do with him (based on the green arrow arc), but i am open to having my mind changed if you have a case for it

sure!

I'll preface this by saying that although I ship them, I don't have A Plot for them yet, the way I do for other of my jason rareships, and thus I have yet to ~envision how I'd personally have it go down. but these are my thoughts on them at the moment.

first of all... the green arrow arc isn't this HORRIBLE, TEERRIBLE, AWFUL thing that happened to mia, or this irredeemable evil jason did, and I'm always baffled whenever I see it talked about that way. like. mia is not a normie kid living her normie life in a slice-of-life teen story. she's a freaking SUPERHERO that risks her freaking LIFE on the regular. jason is this dude one, maybe two years older than her that didn't even want to seriously harm her.

she obviously wouldn't walk out of that encounter with kind thoughts about him. he was an asshole! he wanted to scare her! (and he had a GOAL re: sidekicks and the danger they're exposed to and a point to prove about it, which I always feel is handwaved). but like, jason is not a static character, or not doomed to be at least. he'd have to sincerely apologise, saying that yeah, he was a shit, that was a shitty thing to do, he was projecting some stuff on hers and ollie's relationship that wasn't even true and he's ready to compensate her for it. and again, these are... not normal people. like sorry but I just don't think what jason did in that arc garrants an eternity of hate and enmity to them.

and obviously not hating him forever/seeing his actions for what they were and not more/being able to forgive them in the face of a sincere apology and amendments isn't the same as actually seeing jason as a romantic prospect! but it's a first step into a less than hostile dynamic.

and within that context, I could see mia thinking back on some of the things jason said in their confrontation, about them being alike (also, winick wasn't been subtle in his parallels here, but I've seen people being VERY obtuse about this part of the scene añsldkf). I haven't read mia in a team context/with lots of peers her age yet, but even if she's more likely to find people with commonalities/messed up childhoods among child heroes, common ground is still something to be curious about, to bond over. and such very specific common ground would be something I think she'd value.

I haven't reached that arc yet, but I know mia has also killed, once, in circumstances where she thought she had no other choice. and she doesn't want to do that anymore, she wants to be a hero and stay on the path and raise above. those are things that I find interesting in conjunction to a dynamic with jason, in particular. the way it would lead both to conflict and to a different level of understanding.

also, there's always this sense in posts against these ships where I feel like... mia doesn't have to be perfect. she can be messy and make questionable romantic choices and maybe they pan out or maybe they don't, but it could be something actually fun to explore with her character, to see her in a context like that. less in the "bad boy attraction" sense because really, past aesthetics jason does not fit that role in a romantic sense, but as in getting to explore other sides of her character through a romantic relationship, especially as a character with both a history of sexual abuse and with HIV. and I'm sure there are other candidates for that, both canon and fanon, but it just happens that the first thing I read with her was the Jason Being A Menace arc and that I looooove a meet ugly, especially if it comes with a "recognition through the other (derogatory)" bonus.

anyway. I'm not trying to convince anyone because I'm perfectly happy in my rowboat-sized ships and it's nothing to me if other people disagree or judge me for them lol, but thanks for the chance to talk about them a bit!

#talking to the void #my thoughts #dc #dc thoughts #fandom nonsense #jaymia #jason todd #mia dearden #favourites: birds of a feather #replies #anonymous

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virgoilluminati · 7 months

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World Class

Chapter 5

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A/N: Hey guys I'm sorry for being MIA. Currently juggling uni, work and I've not really have any time to write anything. But hey this has been in my drafts for ages and I just thought I'd post it. I'm not sure if anyone still reads this but I thought I would post it anyways 🤷🏻‍♀️❤️

y/nmorrison

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y/nmorrison unbothered

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y/nno.1fan not her posting this as a direct response to the papz 😂

user199 absolutely iconic behaviour

user10 @user199 period 👌🏻

leahwilliamson missin you'

y/nmorrison @leahwilliamson see you soon💕

In the midst of the flight, your mind carried you into a vivid dream, immersing you in the memory of her brother Noah's final match.

As you watched from the dream's vantage point, the 87th minute had arrived, and the stadium's atmosphere was charged with anticipation. The game had been deadlocked between Man United and Chelsea, and your collective yearning for a breakthrough was almost palpable. The roars of the fans echoed through the air, creating a symphony of hope and excitement.

You heard the commentators' voices resonating around you, their words narrating the unfolding drama with a palpable intensity:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're entering the 87th minute of this gripping encounter between Man United and Chelsea. The tension in the air is electric, and fans from both sides are on the edge of their seats, hoping for a game-changing moment."

"And here comes a substitution that could shift the dynamics of this match. Man United's coach has signaled for Morrison, the young talent who recently joined the team. He's known for his exceptional speed and technique. Could this be the turning point the Red Devils need?"

Noah was a recent addition to the Man United team, was subbed in, his presence on the field instantly injecting a renewed energy. His every move was a testament to his skill and determination. The ball found his feet, and like a conductor guiding an orchestra, he orchestrated a series of seamless passes that left the defenders scrambling. With each calculated move, Man United approached Chelsea's goal, closing in with a sense of purpose that was almost palpable.

The sequence unfolded repeatedly, a mesmerizing dance of skill and strategy that held you in rapt attention. And then, it happened. The ball was at Noah's feet, and he sprinted forward with a burst of speed that left defenders in his wake. With breathtaking precision, he launched the ball with a combination of power and finesse, sending it soaring into the top corner of the net. The stadium erupted in a euphoric roar, a crescendo of collective joy that reverberated through the air.

Amid the jubilation, the clamor of camera shutters began to punctuate the atmosphere. The paparazzi had descended upon the scene, their initial excitement palpable.

"Pictures of Noah's triumphant moment! Get the shots!"

"Look at him go! The focus, the determination—it's all there!"

As the dream continued, the atmosphere shifted, the camera clicks growing insistent, mingling with hushed, possessive whispers:

"Capture every angle!"

"That's my shot! Back off!"

"Wait, is that his sibling? Get a shot of them too!"

The once-positive commentary became a jumble of voices, each photographer vying for the perfect shot, their possessiveness growing as the scene intensified. Your dream had morphed into a cacophony of conflicting motives, reflecting the invasive nature of fame.

Amid this chaos, Noah's voice cut through, stern and protective:

"Enough! Give us some space!"

A particularly aggressive paparazzo seemed undeterred, reaching out toward you:

"Hey, pretty lady! Over here!"

In an instant, Noah was by your side, a protective arm around you as he pushed the paparazzo back:

"Back off! Leave her alone!"

The confrontation escalated, the paparazzo's voice melding with others as the scene dissolved into a clash of desires and boundaries. Noah's voice was strong and determined as he tried to carve a path through the crowd:

"Move aside! Let us through!"

But the throng of paparazzi seemed insurmountable, their intentions increasingly overwhelming.

As you and Noah attempted to leave, the paparazzi's fervor escalated. Your voice rose above the chaos:

"Get out of the way! You're blocking us!"

But they persisted, their attempts to capture the moment turning invasive.

Noah's anxiety grew palpable as he navigated the chaos:

"Y/N, they're following us! This isn't stopping!"

Panicked, you tried to calm him:

"Noah, we'll be fine. Just keep driving."

As you continued, the scene shifted with startling abruptness. A blinding light engulfed the dream, accompanied by the sound of a deafening crash. The world seemed to spin as your heart raced, the final, tragic moments playing out before you.

Awakening with a jolt, your breath was ragged, your heart aching with the intensity of your emotions. The dream had cruelly transported you back to that fateful day, replaying the overwhelming chaos, the fear, and the unbearable loss with a sadistic precision. You wiped away tears, your mind overwhelmed by memories of Noah's triumphs and the profound love they had shared. Ever since the incident with Jude, it felt like the paparazzi had become a relentless specter, haunting every aspect of your life.

It was the incident with Jude that had triggered the nightmare about your brother, dredging up the haunting memories of that fateful night when you had lost Noah forever. The trauma had lain dormant within you, buried beneath layers of grief and resilience, until the intrusion of the paparazzi had torn open old wounds.

You had always known that being the sister of a footballer came with a certain lack of privacy. From the moment your brother had entered the professional spotlight, you'd seen the media attention, the intrusive interviews, and the constant scrutiny. You had accepted it as a part of your lives, a necessary evil that came with the fame and fortune.

But what you hadn't realized was just how little privacy you would truly have. It wasn't merely the occasional paparazzi photo or interview request; it was the unending invasion, the relentless pursuit of every facet of your existence. It your the feeling of being stripped bare, your every emotion, her every move, laid bare for the world to see.

The tragic loss of your brother had brought a brief respite from the constant intrusion. It was as if, in the wake of Noah's death, the paparazzi had briefly recognized the depths of their trespasses and retreated. During that brief interlude, you had dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, you could regain some semblance of a private life..

But the bitter truth remained—you hated the paparazzi with every fiber of you being. They seemed determined to snatch away even the smallest moments of joy you could find, turning them into spectacles for the world to gawk at. It was a constant battle between your love for the sport and your loathing for the invasion of your privacy.

As soon as you made your way back to camp, the match against Nigeria awaited you. Sarina had already warned that by going to see your boyfriend during camp, the likelihood of starting or playing given the lack of training was slim. You loved football but you loved Jude more and it was important you could be there for him. Besides the England women's lineup was secure and everyone felt ready for the Nigerian side. Or so you thought.

Nigeria vs England.

The anticipation was palpable as fans from both nations gathered at the stadium, their cheers and chants creating a vibrant tapestry of sound. The atmosphere crackled with energy, a testament to the passion and pride that women's football had ignited across the globe.

As the two teams lined up on the pitch, the sun-kissed field seemed to shimmer with the promise of an unforgettable match. England, with their rich history in women's football, exuded confidence, while Nigeria, known for their flair and tenacity, were determined to make their mark on the world stage

Before the match began, you found herself on the bench, deep in conversation with Beth England. You discussed strategies, potential plays, and ways to exploit the Nigerian defense. Beth's voice was animated as she shared her insights: "Y/N, we've got to work those wings and keep them guessing. Their backline isn't as solid on the left side, so we might be able to create some openings."

You nodded, your mind focused as you absorbed Beth's words. "You're right, Beth. And they can use their speed to catch them off guard. Quick passes and overlapping runs could give us the edge."

As you continued to exchange ideas, the coach's call to get ready for the match interrupted your conversation. With a last encouraging smile, Beth patted Y/N's shoulder: "we've got this."

You returned the smile, a surge of determination coursing through her veins. "I hope so. They will give it their all."

Throughout the match, you, a substitute for this game, experienced the tension from the sidelines. You couldn't bear to watch every moment on the field, feeling the intensity and pressure rising with each near-miss by the Nigerian team. Your heart raced as you observed, your fingers tightly interlocked, your gaze shifting from the action to the scoreboard, and back again. The close calls by the Nigerian attackers had your heart leaping into your throat, and you felt a sense of helplessness not being able to impact the game directly from her position on the bench.

You found yourself almost involuntarily standing up, clenching her fists, and then sinking back down in nervous anticipation as the Nigerian forwards seemed to breach the English defense. Your support for your team was unwavering, but the sight of the Nigerian team coming so close to scoring made you nearly unable to watch. Each almost-goal left you breathless, urging your teammates on with silent cheers, hoping and praying for England to hold their ground.

Your mind raced with the desire to step onto the pitch and make a difference, yet you knew your role was to support from the sidelines. The adrenaline of the game pulsated through your veins as you sat, eagerly awaiting a chance to contribute.

You knew that the decision to risk visiting you boyfriend in Madrid had come at a cost — sacrificing the opportunity to step onto the pitch. As the match unfolded, your mind oscillated between the thrilling atmosphere of the stadium and the longing to be out there, contributing to the game you loved. The internal struggle you faced was evident, torn between the desire to support Jude and the burning passion to be a part of the on-field action.

The disappointment of not being on the pitch during such a crucial game left you crestfallen. Your eagerness to have a shot at playing, to feel the rush of adrenaline in a high-stakes match, collided with the choice she had made. The conflict within you grew more poignant with each passing moment.

As the clock wound down and the game headed into extra time, you found yourself in a whirlwind of emotions. The missed opportunities on the field mirrored the inner turmoil you experienced, a battle between personal desires and professional commitments. The adrenaline and longing for a chance to make a difference on the pitch remained, juxtaposed against the heartache of the decision you had made.

Even amid the tense silence before the looming penalty shootout, you couldn’t shake the sorrow of missing a chance to play. The price of being a spectator instead of a participant in such a crucial match was a bitter pill to swallow. The conflict between personal life and your career in that pivotal moment lingered in your thoughts, a struggle you knew you'd have to come to terms with.

In the midst of her internal conflict, your attention snapped back to the present as you heard Sarina, delving into the potential players for the upcoming shootout, considering Reece James’s departure due to a red card. The intensity heightened as the anticipation of the looming penalty shootout filled the stadium.

Caught in your thoughts, you were shaken from her reverie by Beth’s hushed whisper. “They said your name, Y/N.”

Surprised, your heart skipped a beat as you realized that despite not being on the field during the game, you might have a chance to contribute during the crucial moments of the shootout. The sudden surge of hope mingled with a flood of emotions—surprise, disbelief, and a glimmer of opportunity.

Your mind whirled as you tried to process the unexpected turn of events. Despite the sacrifices made and the emotional conflict within, the prospect of potentially stepping onto the field for the penalties reignited a spark of determination within you. With a mix of apprehension and renewed purpose, you found yourself drawn into the immediate strategy discussions, your focus shifting entirely to the coach’s plan and the team’s preparation for the decisive shootout.

Before you knew it, amidst the restless energy, Sarina made her way toward the bench. Your heart raced as the coach’s gaze fixed upon her, and a mix of anticipation and apprehension filled her being. Sarina’s eyes met yours, and a moment of intense silence passed between them. The coach’s expression held a blend of serious contemplation and a hint of reassurance.

"Your up Morrison."

lionessess & england

liked by leahwilliamson, lucybronze, y/nmorrison and 1.500,000 others

england Morrisons penalty gives us hope still for our squad. England vs Nigeria 4:2 penalties.

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user1891 absolute legend. 🔥

user1002 Comes off the bench and scores an absolute beauty! 👌🏻

user5678 does this mean she may be replacing Reece James in starting lineup??!!!

The rest of the shootout felt like a blur for you, still unable to truly comprehend what had just happened. You stood at the penalty spot, ready to take the crucial shot. The crowd murmured with curiosity, wondering about the decision to bring you on for this pivotal moment.

Amidst the tension, the supportive voices of your teammates resonated:

“Show them what you’re made of, Y/N! You’ve got this!” Kelly’s voice rang out with unwavering support.

“Give it your all! We believe in you!” Bronze’s encouraging words echoed through the stadium.

“You’ve trained for this, Y/N. We’re right behind you!” Walsh’s voice joined the chorus, reflecting the team’s solidarity.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you approached the penalty spot. The weight of the world seemed to rest upon your shoulders—the hopes of your team, the expectations of the fans, and your own personal journey. Yet, amid the pressure, a sense of calm overcame you. You remembered your dream, the vision of your brother, and the promise you had made to yourself.

With a deep breath, you steadied yourself. The stadium seemed to fade away as you focused solely on the ball, the goal, and the profound connection you felt with your brother, Noah.

“3”

“2”

“1”

You struck the ball, and it sailed into the net—an unstoppable shot that left the goalkeeper rooted to the spot.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their jubilation a symphony of voices from every corner of the world. You were engulfed by your teammates, their celebration a testament to the unity and spirit of the game. You raised your arms in triumph, feeling a profound connection to your brother, as if he had been with you every step of the way.

Among the cheers and celebrations, Lucy Bronze approached you with a warm smile. She placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned in to speak softly: “I knew you had it in you. That goal was pure magic. From now on, consider me your big sister on and off the pitch.”

Your eyes glistened with emotion as you looked at Bronze, your heart swelling with gratitude. You nodded, your voice filled with sincerity: “Thank you, Lucy. That means the world to me.”

The match against Nigeria ended with the opposing team emerging victorious. Your penalty would forever be etched in the annals of football history. The Women’s World Cup of 2023 had delivered more than just a match; it had offered a spectacle of skill, heart, and the power of determination. And for you, it had been a moment of closure, a fulfillment of your promise to play not just for yourself but for your late brother, Noah—a promise that had propelled you to victory on the grandest stage of all.

In the dressing room after the victory, you felt exhilarated. The team’s atmosphere was electric, filled with jubilation. You were showered with affection from all the players, sharing in the joy of your success.

“Y/N, you were incredible out there! We couldn’t have done it without you!” Millie Bright’s words resonated through the room.

You blushed, responding, “Thanks, Millie! It was a team effort!”

Millie then playfully lifted you onto her shoulders, and the rest of the team joined in, singing and dancing, their voices echoing through the room, capturing the elation of your victory.

As you celebrated, Sarina Wiegman, the coach, grinned from the corner of the room. “What a fantastic performance, ladies! We’re through to the quarter-finals, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

lucybronze

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lucybronze This one, @y/nmorrison secured us the quarter finals. Never been prouder ❤️

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leahwilliamson a goat 🔥

keirawalsch thats my girl! 💕

milliebright an absolute star 🌟

bethengland trooper ✨👌🏻

user4728: stop! The girls are all hyping y/n up!! Cryin' 🥹🥹

Exiting the buzzing dressing room, you stepped outside, seeking a moment of solitude. As you pulled out your phone, a familiar pang of longing for home washed over you. With a mix of hope and anticipation, you dialed home, hoping to catch up with your dad.

The phone rang a few times before diverting to voicemail. Disappointment flickered momentarily before a notification indicated a new voicemail.

As you listened to the message, the voice of your dad, filled with pride and joy, flooded your ears. “Hey, Y/N! I just watched the game, and you were incredible out there. Your brother would have been so proud of you. We all are. Keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart. We’re cheering for you all the way from home. Love you.”

A rush of emotions welled up inside you. Your father’s unwavering support and acknowledgment were a reminder of the incredible network of encouragement and love you had back home. It felt as if your family was there with you, celebrating this significant moment.

#jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #womens world cup #lucybronze x reader #leahwilliamson x reader #leah williamson #judebellingham x footballreader #englandwomensfootball #england football #fanfiction #jude bellingham fanfic

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moodybluezzz · 7 months

Text

A Drunk Man's Waltz - Leone Abbacchio x Reader

[Content: fluff/mildly NSFW, jealous Abbacchio (out of character?), alcohol, Y/N with fem pronouns]

[Word count: 1.8k]

It was night at Bucciarati's house, and the whole gang was gathered after another successful mission. You were relaxing on a velvety couch in Bruno's living room, enjoying the liveliness in the air.

Dishes clinked and food simmered as Bruno and Abbacchio prepared dinner. A classical tune echoed softly from the kitchen - Moody Blues was leaning against the counter, playing back an assortment of songs while the two worked. You recognized some of the songs from the few times you'd playfully stolen Abbacchio's headphones. Unfortunately the music was nearly drowned out under the bickering of the others as they tried (and failed) to set the dining table as a team.

Bruno's house had become like home for the gang, with lots of room for hosting lunches, dinners, and even sleepovers (when Narancia and Mista begged for one enough.) Despite the fact you had only been part of the team for a few months, they welcomed you warmly. "La mia casa è la tua casa," Bruno had said the first time you joined them for dinner. You could tell he loved nights like these, and so did you - it certainly made things entertaining.

Something shattered on the floor in the dining room. "DAMMIT, NARANCIA! We'll be eating straight out of the pots and pans at this rate!"

"It's not my fault these fancy plates are so slippery!" Narancia pouted. Fugo facepalmed and went to search for a broom and dustpan. You glanced at Mista, who was grinning from the other side of the couch, and giggled.

Bucciarati peeked out of the kitchen doorway, smiling. You could tell he didn't care one bit about the mess. He was just happy everyone was here. Abbacchio continued cooking in his place - from where you sat you could just barely see Moody Blues morph into a replacement Bucciarati, who promptly continued stirring and seasoning one of the dishes. You couldn't help but find something about it adorable.

Finally the two emerged from the kitchen along with their stands, their arms full with platters of food and even a bottle of fancy wine. "Dinner is served!" Bucciarati exclaimed. Abbacchio smirked - it was a rarity, but he seemed proud of himself. You gazed in wonder at the full Italian meal being laid out on the table.

Narancia's face lit up just as much as yours. "This is amazing! Where did you guys learn to cook so well!?" Bruno smiled warmly.

"In my case I suppose my father taught me everything I know about good food! Thanks to him I learned to cook for myself from a young age. I can teach you some of our recipes sometime if you'd li-"

"MISTAAA! WE'RE HUNGRY, WHAT'S THE HOLD UP!?" The Sex Pistols perked up, seemingly out of thin air (like always.)

"Alright, alright! Let's dig in! The food looks damn good, really!" Mista lifted his silverware excitedly.

And so the table filled up with plates of steaming pastas and carefully seasoned breads, and glasses of sweet red wine. Abbacchio sat directly across from you, watching intently as you lifted your fork. You were wowed at the first bite - the food tasted just as good as it looked! The others chatted happily as they began to eat. You looked up, locking eyes with Abbacchio, who quickly focused back on his plate. Had he been staring?

You continued eating. But sure enough, after stealing a few more upward glances your eyes met once again. This time Abbacchio's brows furrowed - you decided not to keep pushing it. You stared down at your food, twirling spaghetti around your fork.

"Y/N? Y/N!"

You finally tuned back in to the rest of the table's conversation. Narancia had been trying to get your attention for a while, it seemed.

"W-What? Sorry, I spaced out…"

Narancia grinned. "Jeez, Bucciarati, I knew your food was good but I've never seen someone get THAT into it! You must've really knocked her socks off like always~"

"H-Huh!?"

Abbacchio suddenly stood from his seat, everyone's attention shooting his way. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated.

"-Tch."

He stormed off, leaving a dumbfounded look on everyone's faces.

"What's up his ass?" Mista frowned. "Hey, the bastard took the whole bottle of wine with him too!"

Everyone turned to Bucciarati, but even he appeared to be clueless. And ever-so-slightly embarrassed.

"I have to go to the bathroom…" you muttered, trailing Abbacchio's path. He must have gone outside.

You opened the back door a crack, and sure enough, there was Abbacchio, sitting tense on the patio steps. He took a long sip from the bottle in his hand. You slipped through the door and shut it gently behind you. He glanced over his shoulder with a stare colder than the nighttime air.

"What are you doing out here?" He groaned, leaning over and resting his head on his free hand. "First you keep staring at me and now you're following me, what's next?"

You shuffled nervously. "Well, technically you're the one who was staring first…"

Abbacchio clenched his teeth and turned sharply away, his platinum hair whipping over his face. You swore you could see blush flood his face before it was buried beneath the strands. "L-Listen punk, you don't understand anything. Narancia sure as hell doesn't understand anything…"

You winced. "Are you upset about what he said? About Bucciarati…"

He slammed the bottle down with an empty thud and lifted himself from the patio. He turned to face you and grasped your collar, pulling you close to his face. You could smell the wine on his breath.

"It's always… Bucciarati this, Bucciarati that!" Abbacchio slurred. "I tried with dinner– I tried for you, I watched and waited and they still think you're falling head-over-heels for Bruno!"

You stared at Abbacchio, his eyes burning with jealousy and something else you couldn't quite place.

"I-I don't understand-"

He let go of you sharply. "-Tch. It doesn't matter. Why not test this theory ourselves?"

Abbacchio turned away as he brought out Moody Blues, which swiftly grabbed your hand and twirled you in a circle. When you regained your footing and looked back at the Stand, you found yourself face-to-face with Bruno.

A copy of Bruno.

Your eyes widened. The Stand took both of your hands now, playing back a smooth waltz and guiding you slowly into a dance that for some reason, you just couldn't bring yourself to break out of. You blushed as Bucciarati's figure held you close, leading you back and forth with a surprising level of grace and careful footwork. Deep down, is this really what you wanted? Abbacchio stood close by, glancing over his shoulder and trying to figure that out for himself as well.

As the sweet song came to an end, Bucciarati - no, Moody Blues - pulled you in close one last time, your bodies pressed close together as your chest heaved with nervous breaths. The recreation of the boss's sky-blue eyes held yours with a seemingly unbreakable gaze.

But they're nothing compared to the gold-purple ones that caught you earlier.

"No!" You turned your head sharply away. A look of frustration passed briefly over the Stand's face before it broke its hold, merging back to Abbacchio in an instant. The sudden lack of support left you stumbling backwards and landing gently on the patio floor, right at the tall man's feet. He scoffed, his arms crossed and head down. You stared up at him, speechless. After a moment he sighed and reached down to you. You hesitated before taking his hand. Abbacchio lifted you strongly, gazing off into the darkness of the yard.

"Abbacchio…"

It was quiet, save for the sound of the breeze.

"That was your favorite music, right?"

Abbacchio stayed silent.

You dared to step closer. "That wasn't a copy of Bucciarati's moves, was it? You may have replicated his body, but everything else, that was all you, I can just tell…"

You reached for his hands and turned him toward you. The light from the house illuminated his face warmly. This time the blush was clear as day.

"Dance with me, Abbacchio."

Despite the hint of nervousness in his eyes, he wrapped one arm around your back and held your hand close to his chest with the other. And just like that, you were swaying back and forth together, stepping from the patio into the open yard. The moon acted as your spotlight, illuminating the yard just enough to keep your step. For having drank at least half a bottle of wine, Abbacchio guided you surprisingly steadily.

"Listen, I'd never disrespect Bucciarati…" he mumbled. "I look up to him. Everyone does. So don't go telling anyone about all this, okay?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "I look up to him too. B-But not in the way everyone seems to think…"

He held you still and leaned toward you now, his violet eyes looking you up and down just like at the table. Your face felt like it was on fire, and Abbacchio noticed. His gaze softened as he kissed your cheek.

"Sono io che vuoi?" he whispered in a low, sweet tone.

You shuddered as his lips pressed against yours. Before you knew it Abbacchio was all over you, pushing you down onto the soft grass as he kissed you like he'd never get to again. You wrapped your arms around his back, grasping at his dark overcoat. You closed your eyes, praying no one would wonder what was taking you so long.

Now this, this felt right.

Abbacchio pulled away to take a breath, his face alight with a look you'd never seen before. You could practically see the want burning in his eyes.

"A-Abbacchio, we should get back inside, what if the others…"

"Mm. Fuck." He turned his head toward the house nonchalantly, wiping his mouth with his wrist. His lips left a dark streak along his skin. "You stay here, I'll head in first. Last thing we need is Narancia or Mista getting suspicious." He stood and stumbled inside almost as quickly as he'd left before.

You remained flat on the ground, staring up at the stars. Your heart was still pounding. After a few minutes you heard the door open across the yard. You turned to see Narancia peeking out. "Oh, you are still out here!" You lifted yourself up and he jogged across the grass, crouching down next to you. "Hey, I'm sorry about earlier, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you mad! Or Abbacchio…even though he's always kinda mad…"

"Don't worry about it," You reassured him with an embarrassed smile.

"So are you gonna tell me why you're in the middle of the yard!? Did something happen?"

"N-No, no! Don't worry about it…" You scrambled. Narancia seemed amused.

"Well, uhm... Here, before you come inside," Narancia fumbled around in his pockets and handed you an orange handkerchief. You took it, puzzled.

"Thanks?"

He grinned awkwardly before heading back, his hands stuffed in his pockets. You stared at the cloth before dabbing around your mouth and cheeks. Was there grass on your face or something?

When you looked down at the handkerchief, it was covered in purple lipstick.

#jjba #jjba fanfic #jjba x reader #golden wind #jojos bizarre adventure #vento aureo #anime #jojo #jojo's bizzare adventure x reader #leone abbacchio #jjba abbacchio #abbacchio x reader

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milkybonya · 1 year

Text

trust yourself ☆ jeongwoo

order 068, 🐦 anon: large honey milk tea with fresh taro and mango jelly for trsr's jeongwoo

!: a bit of angst here and there because reader is sad :(

#: idol!bf!jeongwoo x gn reader, comfort fluff

[💌: hi anon here you are ! i hope this fic can keep you warm on rainy days even tho its short and not that goodjdjdj!! also trust yourself by balming tiger is so good and so true,, ive added it at the bottom heh]

having a significant other means sharing the good and the bad with them. it means laughing together, crying together, and everything inbetween. yet, having an idol boyfriend is a bit different... at least, it is for you. Jeongwoo is your everything.. so you don't want to hurt him. you close off when you're sad so he won't have to risk his mood being ruined by listening to you vent.

little do you know, his day is ruined when you don't vent. he's your boyfriend, for pete's sake! he gets worried when you close off and he'd rather cry with you than have you shedding tears all alone.

maybe it's because Jeongwoo, and maybe also you, are both so young. maybe you think that he has to be protected because of his young age. maybe it's something else.

Jeongwoo doesn't know.

he rattles his brain in the waiting room for answers after reading and rereading your text to him.

i'm sorry i've been mia, Jeongwoo. things are not so great and i don't want to burden you with that.

why would you be burdening him? why would you think that way?--

"hey, jeongjeong! watchu doin'," Jaehyuk asks Jeongwoo, sliding in beside him on a touch.

"just thinking," Jeongwoo mumbles back.

"about?"

"y/n and how they won't share their sorrows with me because they don't want to burden me."

"ah.. y/n is just really considerate. but i get you.. it's hard to wait so long for a loved one. you don't have to force anything out of them--how about you just do something they love with them to cheer them up?" Jaehyuk explains.

Jeongwoo's eyes light up and he smiles.

"you're right!"

"Jeongwoo, 1 minute until camera rehearsals," a staff points out.

"i know! just let me--" Jeongwoo aggressively types out a text to you, telling you to meet him at your favourite café after his schedule is over. he pokes his tongue out as he types, focusing hard.

once it's done, he puts his phone away and joins the other members to prepare to rush on-stage.

meanwhile, you're at home watching the live of the music performance. you've been having such a hard time these days but your boyfriend and his group always make you feel a bit better. treasure are up next and just as they're about to go up, you get a text from Jeongwoo?! isn't he busy right now?!

you read it and smile, knowing that the typos must be from him typing his message to you in such a rush before his stage.

just watching him perform their comeback already fills you with so much joy, so you're giddy as you get changed and rush out to meet your boyfriend at the café. on the way, you hum treasure's songs, walking a little faster than usual and enjoying the warm breeze.

Jeongwoo is already there, still slightly sweaty and makeup+hair still intact as he smiles in your direction.

"y/n!" he stands up, grinning at the sight of you.

you're gorgeous despite your tired frame, and he's so happy to see you that his knees start feeling weak. you feel shy as you run up to hug him, butterflies filling you as his arms wrap around you. his hug is warm and his scent is like home.

"take a seat, i got you your favourite drink," he says, pushing the cup towards you.

you take it and drink, relaxing even more. the two of you are seated by the window and you briefly glance outside, watching as couples walk together.

"what's the occasion, Jeongjeong?" you ask.

"well... i know things haven't been so amazing for you lately. i just wanted to meet you in person to tell you that i love you and i'm rooting for you," he says, only meeting your eyes after he's done talking. he doesn't want to make you feel worse.

the effort he's made for you makes your heart ache, but in the best way possible.

"if you want to talk to me, i'm here. if not, i'm still here. i'll wait for you. and.. i just want you to trust yourself, no matter what's happening. please know.. it's okay to not be alright, and that things will be alright eventually. just take your time, everything will fall into place!"

you have to fight back tears as you reach for Jeongwoo's hands, giving them a big squeeze.

"i really needed to hear that, Jeongwoo. thank you," you say.

Jeongwoo's own lips wobble as he watches you get emotional, and he stares at the ceiling to stop himself from crying.

"hey, you big crybaby! don't cry because of me, i'll get sad.." you whine.

"i'm not crying!" he says, as his lips quiver more intensely.

you laugh, stroking his soft hair and caressing his cheek.

"i just love you, y/n. i won't let this world hurt you, ever." his eyes sparkle as he speaks to you and your heart is filled with warmth.

in that moment you realize that no matter what happens, you can overcome it, because you'll always have at least once person rooting for you.

and one of those people will always be me, dear reader. me, milky. ♡

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modern-day-bard · 4 months

Text

Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+ This series contains explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 29

Dozens of celebrities visit LAX every day, from both arrivals and departures. Even still, it feels like a risk. I asked David to park us outside while I looked for a flight. On another day, I might be embarrassed, asking him to wait while I frantically look for the soonest flight to Connecticut. There are several arriving in New York that leave much sooner, but I don't want to risk being seen even more. I book one straight to Connecticut leaving in three hours, thank David, and shoot a text to my mom. I'm crossing all of my fingers that my parents have not seen the pictures. Not that they're superbly technologically savvy, but with my mom's friends and their stalking tendencies...I can't even think about that right now.

I buy one of the first books I see after getting through security, ignoring the two tabloids with Javi's face on the cover, and the one with both of us. At my gate, with my knees pull up to my chest, cat down over my eyes, and my book in front of my face, I feel like I've created a little cocoon of safety. After about ten minutes, I realize I bought an informational book about marine life. Absolutely no connection to Hollywood, romance, or mistakes. I'm thrilled.

Sitting here for a while, I feel too numb to even be afraid of my flight. I look down at my bracelet occasionally, and remember that my last flight was also riddled with anxiety. Except this time, the worst of the worst has come true. But I still don't feel scared. I feel like the most important thing is just to get to Connecticut. If I can get there, I can breathe. No one will be able to find me at my parents house. There's no way they'll be able to find that much information about me in such a short time-span. And I don't think my face is the one that would be worth flying out for. Sure, they might hound me here, but from what I know, they would only follow Javi.

Javi, who has called three times since my arrival.

I told David to text Javi once I left the car. I couldn't handle the idea of him calling me before I bought the flight. Hearing his voice would make me change my mind. And it was convenient that I would be too busy going through security and getting to my gate to miss the first two. But now I had no excuse for the third. With an hour and a half left before my flight, I send out a text to Javi.

Me: I'm sorry I missed your calls. I asked David to let you know my plans... I can't let you get more heat if they figure out I'm staying at your house. I'm so sorry, for all of it. I'll call you when I get home.

I send one to Lana and Mia as well, giving them the sparknotes, and I turn off my phone. I know the girls and Javi will be kind, but I don't want to think about it anymore. I zone out staring at a photo of a beluga whale until it's time to board.

- - -

I came dangerously close to collapsing in my mom's arms when her and her sedan greeted me at New Haven's much smaller airport. I had many heart palpitations during takeoff, and there were a few times I thought my body would turn into full-blown panic. But thankfully, flying when you know you're flying away from a public relations crisis that could cost you your job seems to be easier for me. Though that is a lesson I would've been happy never to have learned.

Now that we're safely in the walls of my parents' Cape Cod-style home, I'm bordering on big, big tears. I never miss home. I miss my parents, of course. But I never think of Connecticut in that wistful way everyone else talks about their hometowns. There's some nostalgia, but there's some bad memories, too. I push that thought away as I plop down on their couch. There are other, more recent memories I need to forget. And right now, this feels like the most comforting place in the world.

My mom fiddles with her keys before dropping them on the entryway table. I could tell she was holding back the entire ride home from the airport. She asked about the flight, and about my recent projects, about my friends, and now...

"Where's dad?" I beat her to the punch.

"He's out picking up your favorite."

"Pepe's?" I ask hopefully and she nods, "At 10pm? You're both saints."

"Yes, ma'am," she giggles.

She sits down next to me, placing a hand gingerly on my knee.

"Honey," her voice is much more serious than before, "Are you sure you're okay? You rarely come home. And then within a few hours you text us you're on your way, and you only have a purse with you and no return flight. What's going on?"

"You should've been a detective."

This time she doesn't giggle, she just pins me with her worried expression.

I fiddle with a thread on one of the throw pillows. "Have your friends said anything about me?"

Now she just looks confused. "Uh, no. I've been at work today though."

"Right. Well, I sort of became a topic of conversation recently and—"

"Hello!" My dad bellows, pushing open the front door, two large pizza boxes leading the way.

"Dad!" I hop up. I hug him tightly, nearly sending the pizza to the floor before my mom catches it from behind us.

"Hi, sweetie." He gives me a kiss on the top of my head, and I can feel my eyes sting.

This part of home, I miss.

As we gather in the kitchen, I fill my dad in on what I had already told my mom. I ask them both about work, and their friends. Some of their friends became grandparents, and the thought of that makes my stomach lurch. They laugh at my expression, and I'm relieved there's no additional pressure there. I don't feel much pressure at all as we talk in between pizza slices. I feel lighter than I have in a while. Like all of that attention was some wild Hollywood dream, and I woke up in the safety of my old life.

"Okay, this old man has to call it." My dad finally says, pointing at the clock on the stove. 12:06am.

"Me too," my mom says, kissing my cheek. "I got your room set up for you. Do you need anything before bed?"

I shake my head, hugging them both. "No, just this. Thank you guys."

"You're welcome. But you know I will be wanting to finish our conversation tomorrow," My mom whispers before patting me on the back.

"I know," my laughter is nervous, but she lets it go.

I follow them upstairs, bringing my purse with me. My old room is now half an office, but they left some of my old stuff behind. I rummage through the closet, finding an old high school pep rally t-shirt to throw on. Though "throw on" may be a stretch, because speaking of stretch, this thing barely fits. I decide to go with just a fresh pair of underwear I brought, and make a mental note to raid my mom's closet tomorrow.

I plug in my phone, slipping under the covers. I brought my marine life book into bed with me, just in case any distracting thoughts kept me awake. But staring at a rather spritely looking sea turtle, my eyes are getting heavy. With the time difference, it's past 3am for me. Before I know it, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

- - -

The next morning, after a cold slice of Pepe's for breakfast, I took a walk around my neighborhood. My charged, but turned-off, phone in my pocket. My mom told me that she would probably be able to get off of work early, but didn't have time to warn them last night. My dad said he would try to do the same, but client meetings might keep him later. I didn't mind. I knew I would need some time to figure out how to explain the situation to them, and I would also need to check this phone of mine. I don't want to leave anyone hanging, but...the quiet is nice. The air here is slightly cooler with September rolling in, and the streets are peaceful. I decide that once I remember which houses used to hand out full-size candy bars, I need to turn on my phone.

I gather up the courage sitting on the front stoop, even though the cool bricks freeze my bum. I'm glad this stoop is paparazzi-free at least.

There are less messages from yesterday. Lana and Mia just said to text when I'm settled and that they understand, so I fire another one off to them letting them know I'm safe and I'm cooling off. I wait a few more minutes before reading Javi's messages. I feel a pit in my stomach. I can't imagine that he'll want to deal with all this. And now that I've given him some space, he'll probably be able to see that it's easier with me far away, or just...out of his life in general. I swallow the lump in my throat and open the conversation anyway.

Immediately after I texted him that I was going home he replied.

Javi: Do what you need to do. I completely understand. Though I will be wishing you were here with me instead

And again once he figured I had landed.

Javi: You're probably catching up with your parents, but sleep well. It's late here at home This morning, 5am L.A. time, 8am East Coast time.

Javi: Good morning beautiful. Jonah and I are speaking with Dwayne today. I know it's probably not the best thing to hear this morning but I want to keep you up to date. Call me when you can. We're meeting at 9

I look at the clock. In that case, with the time difference, they're meeting now. I wish I still had more of my neighborhood to walk. The idea of Javi, his lawyer, and Dwayne all in a room together is enough nervous energy to walk five more miles. Besides the idea of the meeting, however, his texts calm me. I thought that looking through my phone would feel like it did yesterday: uncontrollable chaos. But it's the opposite. They soothe me, and it makes me want to speak with him even more. Not just to know what happens in that awful meeting, but just to hear his voice.

Me: Thank you for the update :) I'm sorry for the late reply...and for leaving. But it's been good to be here. Call me when you're out of the meeting if you can

I decide the next best thing is to shower. I take my time, going through my mom's closet afterwards like I had promised last night. I find a t-shirt of hers that actually fits, as well as a hoodie and some soft shorts. Me, my wet hair, and my hoodie are enjoying another slice of pizza when my phone rings.

My heart flutters before I look at who the call belongs to, and then I spit my pizza out onto my plate.

"Hello?" I say, even though I know who it is.

"Ava? It's Dwayne. I've got our lawyer, Devon on with us as well as Tom from public relations. Is now a good time?"

Holy fuck. Holy. Fuck. "Um, sure." Do I need a lawyer on this call?

"We just spoke with Mr. Gutierrez. I've been told that you are aware of the recent press. Is that right?"

"Yes," I swallow hard, "I've seen it."

"We've been in talks this morning about how to handle the situation. Tom has advised Javi on what the next steps are going to be. When it comes to you, I want to reiterate that you aren't in trouble. What we spoke about beforehand remains true, however, I need to ask again, do you plan to press any charges?"

I splutter for a moment. "Charges against–against Javi?"

"Yes. Or Mr. Henley."

How does he factor in this situation?

"Dwayne, I'm a little out of the loop here. I won't be pressing charges against Javi. But why would I want to press charges against Blake? Do you mean for before?"

"Uh, no, not from before..."

There is a pause on their end of the call. Some rustling, and then a new, deep voice begins.

"Miss Cohen, my name is Devon Wallace. I'm the studio's lawyer. As Dwayne said, you are not in any trouble. You aren't in breach of contract for becoming intimate with Javi. It is also helpful, for managing PR, that this has come out after filming has wrapped. However, we would like to avoid another scandal if we can."

I'm still lost. "What other scandal?"

"To be ahead of the news cycle, and to protect you as an employee of Norwick, we want to know if you plan on taking legal action against Blake Henley."

"Why would I be suing Blake Henley?"

Devon clears his throat.

"Because he's the one who captured and leaked the photos."

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x original characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #fluff #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader

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