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formulaforza · 3 months

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miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—08. It's So Sweet —word count: 5.2k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... um... yeah. yeahhhh. sorry sorry sorry if you still read this fic. surprise I guess! its NOT as dead as you thought it was. See you guys again in four months. hopefully sooner if there is a God.

Charles, teeth dug into his tongue so hard he can taste copper, manages to keep from slipping up for the remainder of his time in Georgia. He swallows it down, chokes on an I love you everytime she looks at him for days that feel like an eternity.

The flight out to France that marks the end of his stay had spent weeks serving as a dreadful backmarker, but now it was one of solace, saving him from himself. He knows better than to spit out “I love you” two months in. He knows better, but he also knows. Simple as that. He just knows.

He’s good at keeping it down during phone calls and voice memos and FaceTimes because there’s no fucking way he’s stupid enough to say it over the phone. Whenever he does finally deem the time to be right, it’ll be inches from her face, with all the time in the world ahead of them. Her smile will be there, just waiting to be kissed.

It definitely will not be while she’s grading papers or reviewing a movie or putting purple refills in her pen, even though he finds himself thinking just how plain and simple he loves her when she’s doing those things.

– – –

Charles spends the holidays with his family in France, coming pretty much directly from his time with Chris and her family in Georgia.

They quiz him like there’s no tomorrow about all of it; on Chris, and her family and her city and her life. He thinks he does a half-decent job at keeping his cards close to his chest; hiding his tells and acting completely normal and regular and plain about it all.

Well. He can be coy and secretive to everyone but his mom. Mother’s always know when their sons are in love, and Pascale has always been particularly apt at seeing straight through her boys and the bullshit they try to feed her.

He’s helping with dinner dishes—working hard to get those extra points towards being the favorite son this weekend—when she confronts him about it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been able to lie to her in a way that was even sort-of convincing.

“So, Chris…” she hums, drying three two forks at once with a damp towel. “Is this going to be something?” She asks. Charles shrugs, squeezing more blue dish soap onto the plate in his other hand. “That’s too much,” she remarks.

He ignores the comment, moves the scrubbing sponge over the plate in small circles. “It’s new, still.”

“But you like her?”

He chuckles. Of course he likes her. He wouldn’t be dating her, traveling to see her, introducing her to his family if he didn’t at least like her. That’d just be cruel. “I like her a lot,” he says. I like her the most, he bites his tongue. He rinses the soap from the plate.

Pascale nods, soft smile on her lips when she takes the plate from his hand, drying it carefully. “Just like, is that right, Charles?”

He knows what she means, what she’s implying. They both know she’s right, too, but he can’t stand to admit it. He feels like if he does, if he actually speaks the words out loud, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep it in anymore. It’ll be breaking the seal, and he can’t. Not yet. He doesn’t have it in him yet. “Maman,” he says, and his tone is laced with her answer, soft and sweet and pleading in a desperate way.

She smiles, sets the plate down onto the counter gently. It still clatters against the marble. “I know,” she hums, hand finding his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Charles spends New Year’s Eve in London. He’s with his brothers and his friends and like, all of their girlfriends. He’s been pathetically texting her the entire trip going on about i’ll buy your ticket if you want to come and it would be so much more fun with you here.

What Charles doesn’t know is that Chris is on her way, and that she’d been planning the surprise with Joris for three weeks. After a red eye flight from Atlanta that lands a little before two in the afternoon in London, Joris manages to sneak off from the group to meet her at the hotel and give her a key to his room. She hides out there for most of the afternoon while Joris tries to convince the group to head back to the hotel for a few hours without spoiling the surprise of why they should go back to the hotel in the middle of the day.

When he finally gets them back to the hotel, he waits fifteen minutes to text her the all clear, to let her know that she can come and execute the surprise.

It takes her an almost comical amount of time to find his room, considering it’s in the same hallway as everyone else’ rooms, and only ends up being three or four doors down from where she’d started. When she finally finds it, she’s hit with a sudden wave of anxiety.

What if he doesn’t want me here? She worries. Her hands get clammy and she stands there in front of the door like a complete idiot just waiting for her body to do something, to do anything. Finally, she brings her fist to the door and knocks.

Voices are muffled and heavy feet shuffle on the other side of the door before finally, after what feels like an eternity of loud bickering from the boys about who’s going to open the door, Chris is face to face with Charles, stupid, toothy grin on her face. “Oh,” he says.

Behind him, the guys jeer in French, but neither of them are paying any attention. Chris can't stop laughing, standing there, staring at Charles in the doorway. He stares right back, his eyes a window into the gears that turn behind them, processing… processing… processing so incredibly slowly. “Are you gonna hug me, or just stare at me?” She finally asks, and he laughs, snapping into reality, pulling her into a tight hug.

“What are you doing here?” He questions, pressing a hard kiss into her hair, and then he laughs even harder. “How did you get here?”

– – –

Chris isn’t there for more than a couple days—she has to be back at work as winter break winds to a close, and Charles has training camp in Italy at the end of the week. It’s a quick visit, but they make the most of it, and they do get their new year’s eve kiss.

It’s been, like, a month and a half since Chris was last in Monaco, but it’s been just two and a half weeks since someone posted a TikTok of Charles and her walking around Monte Carlo together. That means, it’s been two weeks of Chris stumbling upon, and falling down rabbit holes of, Charles’ fan accounts desperately trying to put a face to the back of the head of the girl in the video.

She’s less interested in are they going to figure out who I am and more interested in are they at least, like, close? The answer is no. No, they are not even kind-of close to connecting Chris with him. It’s all models and friends and people he follows on Instagram and even one ex-girlfriend, but definitely no American kindergarten teachers.

The fire is only fed, though, when on New Year’s Eve, drunk on Moscow Mules and equipped with the world’s most fashionable LED glasses, Charles is posted showing off the look. Under his arm, equally as drunk off espresso martinis, is Chris, engaged in conversation with Joris beside her.

It’s been two-thousand twenty-three for fifteen minutes, and Instagram explore pages across the world are already filled with pictures of the side of her head and Charles’ goofy heart-eyed glasses.

Chris is too drunk to know, much less care, but when she does find out about it, she won’t be bothered. She thinks that maybe she never will be a big deal—certainly not as big of one as he seems to think it is. Nothing is going to happen, she tells him so many times it doesn’t even sound like a sentence anymore. Who cares if everyone figures out who I am?

January isn’t much but settling into a routine. They’re both busy with a million and one different things—just a little peek into any sort of future they hope to have together—and it’s the end of the month before they see each other in person again.

Every post he makes on social media—every video, photo, story, mention, and repost is run through a microscope, carefully dissected searching for a repeat like and commenter, for an unfamiliar woman’s voice or a hand or a coat or a head of hair. Names fly around in a tornado of guesses, and none of them are correct.

It’s an easy routine to fall into; scheduled phone calls, FaceTime dates twice a week, and sneakily sent texts in the middle of the workday. Sometimes it feels like they aren’t all that far apart, like he could walk out the front door and get into his car and drive for fifteen minutes and be at her house, eat dinner at the same table, fall asleep at the same time, in the same bed. Other times, they can feel every step of the four-thousand, six-hundred, ninety-five miles that separate them, when it’s all pictures of dinner and goodmorning texts seen three hours later and delayed, laggy FaceTime calls.

It’s on one of those calls, where her face is frozen mid-conversation, that she’s gushing about how excited she is for some school event at the end of the month, the Art show, she’d called it, and when—after sorting out the camera issue for the time being—he’d asked for clarification on what exactly an Art show is, she’d explained the whole event with a big, excited smile on her face.

“Oh my gosh!” She’d laughed, pulling her legs underneath her. “Okay, so, it’s the coolest thing. Basically, the art department displays all of the art the students have made so far this year all throughout the year, and the kids get to show it off to all their family. They set up a book fair in the library, and they serve ice-cream in the cafeteria,” she explains, “All the teachers go, and they bring their families, too,” she nods. “It’s really cool. I like to see how proud the kids are of their work.”

He decides then, in that very moment, that he doesn’t want to hear about this in text messages and photos and Facetime calls. He wants to be there—feel her energy, her pride, her smile. It just pours out of his mouth, what if I came? And then, before she can even come up with a response, If that’s okay, obviously. If you even would like, want that, you know.

She bites down on a smile. “I thought you wanted to keep things quiet?” she chuckles, “be all protective of me and stuff?”

Charles shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would believe I’m at a primary school’s art-fair in the middle-of-nowhere America.”

“I mean, I don’t care,” she explains, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “But you do. I’d love it if you could be there.”

He smiles. “You’d love it?”

“I would!” She laughs, leaning forward, closer to the camera. “You’d better come for more than just a day though,” she continues, slumping back against the couch behind her, picking at the cuticles on her thumb, raising her brows when she quietly adds: “I can think of lots of other things I’d love to do with you.”

He shakes his head, dimples digging into his cheeks. “You’re a tease, Christyn,” he taunts, and her head shoots up from her cuticle.

“You have such a dirty mind, Charlie!” she laughs, and his cheeks burn at the nickname, at the accusation.

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she only laughs harder, smiles bigger.

“Why?” She teases, crossing her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side playfully. “Because it makes you blush?”

– – –

There’s really only one of Chris’ students that Charles knows by name: Quinn. Or, as Chris usually refers to her, my sweet, sweet, little Quinnie. Quinnie is not at the art show. Chris goes on to explain that she and her family are never at any of the school events—no open houses, no field trips, no choir recitals or art shows or parent teacher conferences. If it’s not a free event that takes place during school hours, neither Quinn or her siblings will be there, and their Mother will never be there because she’s always at work.

So, no Quinn to win over. He does, however, meet what may be the cutest kid he’s ever been face-to-face with in Landry, a little girl with two long brown braids and a strawberry patterned dress on. Landry is the first of her students to find their teacher, and completely ignores him to tug Chris’ arm towards the little girl’s artwork hung in the hallway.

“I’ll be right back,” she says hurriedly, over her shoulder, letting the little girl pull her away. Charles nods and flashes her a quick wink before she’s properly whisked away, leaving him with nothing better to do than shove his hands deep in his pockets and analyze the artwork of primary school students.

When she finds him again, no Landry in tow, she links her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “She told me I have a cute boyfriend,” she says.

“No, she did not,” He laughs, but his ears blush pink.

“She did,” she nods. “She said you were ‘oh my goodness he is soooooo cute,’” Chris repeats, in a sing-songy tone. “I said, ‘I know right! He’s the cutest.’”

“Whatever,” Charles mutters, running his other hand through his hair. “Where’s the ice-cream at, anyway?”

Two styrofoam bowls of vanilla ice-cream slices—one covered in rainbow sprinkles, the other with chocolate syrup and a maraschino cherry—later, and Chris and Charles are sitting at Chris’ desk in her classroom, him in the green spinning chair, her on the desk itself.

Two boys, who Chris refers to after they leave the room as Nash and Wyatt, are bouncing off the walls with excitement when they turn the corner into Chris’ classroom, their faces lighting up when they find her there. “Miss Elliott!” One of them shouts, half-out of breath. “The book fair has posters of your brother!” He explains.

“Yeah!” The other chimes in. “I see-ed it when my sister was getting a poster of,” he takes a big breath, “of, uh, a princess poster or something.”

“Yeah, and I get-ted this one!” The first kid adds, unrolling the paper in this hand to reveal a black and white Fortnite poster, demonstrating the dances from the game. “Cool right?” He asks, and Chris nods.

“So cool!” She says, “where are you going to hang it?”

Charles leans back in the chair, spinning slightly side to side, eating his ice-cream and just observing the interaction.

“Um, probably in my bedroom.”

Chris nods again, “perfect place for it,” she agrees.

– – –

He’s in Georgia for three days; Friday to Sunday, and spends all of it with Chris, almost entirely at her house. The art show is on Friday night, but he finds himself playing sleepover host with Chris on Saturday when Reid appears with a backpack, a pillow, and a baby blanket Chris tells him not to refer to as a baby blanket.

Chase is racing in Los Angeles this weekend, and left town on Tuesday, leaving Hannah alone on Mom duty. That would be all fine, if the weekend didn’t fall on the one weekend a month she works. Bill, Cindy, Chris, and Hannah’s mom have been helping to pick up the slack left in Chase’ absence.

It all comes together to result in him sitting in the middle of the living room, on the floor, surrounded by every blanket and pillow in the entire house on a Saturday night—a four-year-old boy sitting across from him, hanging on his every word, and his girlfriend in the other room making popcorn.

He’s been tasked with coming up with, and executing the plan for a super, super, cool boy-fort that Auntie Chris can come into, I guess.

A fort that fits into that description is a lot easier in theory. In Practice, however, he’s faced with the nephew he desperately needs the approval of, and a pile of purple and pink and sparkly and fluffy blankets and pillows.

It takes all four of the dining table chairs, a curtain rod from the screened-in porch, a fitted sheet, and a box fan, but the fort is quickly commissioned, and gets Reid’s stamp of approval when he moves his pillow, favorite blanket, and definitely not a baby-blanket, baby-blanket into the build.

Chris is behind them momentarily, knocking on the seat of one of the dining chairs before Reid permits her to enter. She crawls in, laptop and big bowl of popcorn in either hand. Reid is sandwiched between the two of them, Cars blanket covering his little frame, eyes glued to the screen while buttery fingers bury themselves in the popcorn bowl.

Reid is asleep about five minutes after the popcorn bowl is empty, Chris running her fingers through his short brown hair while soft little snores leave his lips. Her head rests on his pillow, just above his head, and she watches the movie. Charles watches her, arm propped up at the elbow, holding his head up. She’s so soft. So sweet. It ties him up in knots.

He feels like a child when she catches him staring, her eyes glancing over to him and making unexpected contact. His cheeks burn and his eyes dart away, back to the screen, to the movie. She giggles softly, barely loud enough for him to hear over his sudden mortification. “Beautiful fort you’ve built here,” she says, and he looks back at her, meets her eyes properly this time.

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’m thinking maybe I will make it my new career after racing.” Charles nods. Chris nods. A smile dances its way across her lips, turning the corners up gently. It makes him smile, too. “Charles Leclerc: Professional fort builder.”

“Oh,” She chuckles. “I can hear it now. You’ll be a household name.”When Charles wakes up, credits are rolling on the laptop screen and Chris’ hand is moving softly over his shoulder. He’s the bridge of his nose and picking the sleep out of his eyes and trying to get his bearings. All he’s sorted out so far is that Chris is here, he’s fucking boiling, and there’s a sleeping kid between them. He squints his eyes—like the dim light from the black credit screen is too bright for him—until she comes into focus. She points to the exit of the fort. “Bed,” she mouths.

“Well,” Chris shrugs, bringing a forkful of salad to her mouth. “I think you’ve won Reid over.”

Charles laughs on her phone screen. He’s in Italy… or Monaco… or… she��s not really sure, to be honest. It’s hard to keep track sometimes, when he’s always somewhere new. He’s in bed, wherever he is, the lamp from her kitchen casting the only light in his dark room. “Is that right?”

“Oh yeah,” she nods. “I had the pleasure of reminding him you weren’t here this afternoon. He wasn’t happy with me.” She remembers it well, his declaration that Charles and Me are going to play games today, and remembers better the little, defeated oh, right after she had to remind him Charles had left the day before.

Charles chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully. “I told him goodbye!”

“I know!” She says, taking another bite, her hand covering her mouth while she talks around the lettuce. “He thought you meant goodbye for the day,” she explains, swallowing. “Not goodbye for a while.”

Charles frowns. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Chris laughs, poking her fork around her bowl. “I love that he likes you so much, it’s adorable,” she hums. “He’s absolutely devastated you won’t be at his birthday party, though.”

Charles scoffs, his mouth dramatically falling open. “No way. You didn't tell me it was his birthday!”

“Because it’s not for like, two weeks!” She defense, laughing. “I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“When is it?”

She cocks her head to the side, already knowing what he’s about to say, and unscrews the top of her water bottle. “His birthday’s the sixteenth, but the party is the eighteenth.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No you won’t. You have testing.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” she insists. “On Monday you have to be in Bahrain.”

“Monday is not Saturday.”

Chris doesn’t tell anyone outside of Chase and Hannah that Charles is flying in, and they definitely don’t tell Reid about it, just in case it falls through for any of the million reasons it could possibly fall through because of.

It was a last minute-trip, after all, and it seems like every second of Charles’ time is accounted for right now, so Chris is prepared at any moment to get a text or a call apologetically explaining that he got pulled into something else. That call never comes, and she picks him up from the airport late Friday night, just in time to bicker in the middle of a liquor store about wine.

“Absolutely not, baby.” He says, shaking his head, a truly horrified look on his face.

“You don’t even drink wine!” She insists, holding a three-liter box of Franzia. “This is perfectly fine.”

His eyes go wide, brows raising like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “It’s in a box.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s for a fifth birthday party.”

“It’s not for the five-year-old,” he argues, picking two bottles of overpriced chardonnay from the shelf. “We’ll get these.”

– – –

Much to the dismay of the other, they show up to the party the next afternoon with one box and one bottle.

Reid is upstairs playing with some kid that Chris is related to somehow, she’s sure, so their arrival goes unnoticed by the birthday boy. Instead, Chris is heaving the box of wine onto the kitchen island, greeting a visibly stressed Hannah with a hug. Charles follows closely behind, setting his bottle down next to her box, following the hug train to Hannah.

“Look great, as always, Hannah,” He says, and Hannah laughs.

“I’m a mess, the house is a mess. Reid,” she looks to Chris, “Lord have mercy on me, your nephew has dressed himself.”

Chris scowls, and then shrugs. Charles laughs. “He can be Chandler’s nephew, today,” she says.

“He’s still your godson, though,” Hannah reminds.

“Oh, don’t I know it!”

Charles takes Chris’ coat with his own, hands them both up in the mud room that’s just off the kitchen. He hears Hannah calling for Reid while he does it, telling him to come down and say hello to your auntie. Auntie Chris. He loves the way Reid says it—Annie Chris—or, when he really wants to stir some shit up, which Charles has come to learn is just about all of the time, Reid will call her Miss Elliott.

Everyone hears him before they see him, little feet making heavy noises as they hurry down the stairs so quickly he might as well have just jumped off the landing and tuck’n’rolled his way into the kitchen. He’s bouncing on his feet, talking to Chris animatedly with his back turned to Charles when he appears in the mud-room doorway. Immediately, Chris is glancing up to him and covering Reid’s eyes with her hands, turning him to face Charles. “I have a surprise for you, Reidy.”

“What?” He squirms. “What is it?”

“More like who is it?” Hannah says, and Reid gasps.

“Chucky?” He asks, and Chris is grinning at Charles, adjusting her hands over the boy’s eyes so one hand covers them both. With the other hand, she pokes Reid’s side right where he’s ticklish and makes him giggle.

“Who?” She asks, his belly laugh making her laugh, too.

“Sharles!” Reid exclaims, breathless from laughing so hard. “Sha-rle,” He laughs out, enunciating the poorly mocked accent.

“Wrong,” Chris says, and then takes her hand off his eyes to reveal Charles.

Reid is slamming into Charles’ legs before he can even squat down to give the kid a proper hug, settling for just hugging his legs. “You comed!” He cheers.

“Come on, Mate!” Charles says, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “You didn’t think I would miss such an important birthday?”

Chris watches the whole interaction with a giddy smile on her face. Hannah watches, too, while she stirs a crock pot full of nacho cheese. Reid fills Charles in on everything that’s happened to him since Charles left, and is already asking if Charles wants to go play catch outside with the football he’s gotten from his dad earlier that week, on his actual birthday. When Hannah slides behind Chris, between her body and the cabinets, muttering a quick behind you and grabbing a ladle from a drawer, she gives Chris’ shoulder a soft squeeze.

– – –

Chris is MIA when Bill and Cindy turn up, arms full of food and gifts for their only grandchild, but Charles is in the backyard, standing around a smoking fire pit with Chase and Reid and other people he remembers meeting from the wedding, but who’s names he wouldn’t be able to remember if there was a gun held to his temple.

Bill and Cindy wander out shortly after they arrive, looking for the birthday boy, and Charles handles the introductions all by himself—a handshake to Dad, a compliment to Mom, and hugs for both of them. He knows how to charm. Knows he’s going to be working at it for a while, probably. He’s more than willing to put in the hours.

“I didn’t know you were comin’, son,” Bill says, and Charles is nodding, hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah, it was a kind of… last minute choice.”

“Aw,” Cindy hums. “What a sweetheart. How long are you in town for?”

“Just a couple days,” he explains. “Chris is off work this week, but I have to get to Bahrain in a couple days. Get used to the timezone and everything.”

“Ah,” Bill nods. “Season’s starting up again, that right?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It never stops, it feels like,” and Bill nods.

“Don’t I know it, boy.”

“Is Chrissy planning on coming out to any of your races?” Cindy asks, linking her arm through Bill’s, leaning against him around the fire. “I know she told us that y’all are keeping it pretty hush-hush for now.”

“Eventually, I hope she can,” he says. “I don’t want to have her come if she doesn’t feel comfortable.”

Cindy nods, smiling to herself. “Smart answer, honey,” she says, and Bill laughs. “You’re a good egg.” Charles chuckles softly, if only because he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s been called a lot of things over the years, but good egg might be a new one.

Just then, Chris is pushing open the sliding door on the back deck, stepping out with her coat on, the hood pulled up over her head, her hands hidden in the sleeves. “Well, speak of the Devil,” Bill says, greeting his daughter with a tight hug.

“Uh oh,” Chris laughs, following suit with a hug for her mom, too. “Y’all are talking about me?”

He’s come to learn that her accent is never anywhere as strong as it is when she's around family. He’s familiar with the pattern of it, and does the same thing after long breaks away from speaking English or Italian. It takes a while to settle back into translating your thoughts. He thinks it’s probably pretty similar, even if she’s not translating from another language. He thinks it’s cute, when the southern twang gets extra prominent. It’s cute, and it’s sweet, and she sounds like a movie character sometimes.

She slots into her comfortable position at Charles’ side, and his arm is tossing itself over her shoulder before he even realizes it’s happening. It’s habit, almost, to keep her close. “Always,” he says.

– – –

They’re cute and annoyingly couple-ey all night. He doesn’t care if she’s related to or friends with almost everyone here, he’s never not amazed at just how easily she can find home in any conversation. Sometimes he wonders if he looks as awestruck about it as he feels, watching her put on this masterclass with everyone she talks to—from passing, brief conversations about how good Hannah’s food is and how old Reid is getting, to the long, sit-down chats about work and her life and their lives. It’s so crystal clear that she makes everyone feel important—the most important person in the room—and he;s even starting to remember names.

There’s a lot of names to remember.

There’s nobody that feels quite as important to Chris as Charles does, though, he’s sure of it. In fact, he’s not sure there’s another person on Earth that could manage to make a social event into something so… recharging for him. She just radiates energy, truly. It’s in the atmosphere, just being in her proximity, just having an arm around her or their fingers intertwined or the smell of her perfume on his clothes is enough.

He loves her so horribly that he’s almost sick with it. He’s biting his tongue all night. Hell, he’s even trying to talk himself out of the now months old revelation.

Like, she drinks wine from a fucking box. A box. Of wine. And she sees absolutely no problem with it. She wants to drag him around to every person, to engage in every conversation. She changed her perfume or her shampoo or her laundry detergent or something, because she smells different than the last time he was with her. She drives like an elderly woman—Jesus fucking Christ, she takes the speed limit so seriously it’s hard to sit in the passenger seat and let it happen. She cried three times on the way from Atlanta. Three times, because she saw some roadkill that wasn't even identifiable, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’s covered in glitter, like, all the time. And so is her stuff. It’s on her face and her hands and her clothes and every surface of her house. Glitter and spelling tests and like, six variations of the same travel coffee mug. She listens to country music as if it’s the only genre of music that exists, and she listens to it all the time. He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn't have been able to keep it in for so long.

He doesn’t love her, and then she laughs and he can feel it in his fucking gut, feels the urge to laugh even when he doesn’t get the joke, even when he misses entirely what is making her so happy. He wants to laugh because she’s laughing and her laugh makes the world a better place and he loves her so bad it hurts.

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eusion · 6 months

Text

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪&team hyung line as ur long distance bf ⌒☆

pairing ⌒☆ &team hyung line x reader

word count ⌒☆ idek

note ⌒☆ :p

k ⌒☆

tries to stay on call with u for as long as he can, even on his walks/drives to work

"are u hungry? i can send u money for food" and will send a lot more than needed

when u arent on ft with eachother, ur on discord or skype. only uses discord because u asked him to

loves hearing about ur day and will always have his hand on his cheek when listening to u... stares directly into that camera

that hoodie hes wearing? say something about it once and it appears at ur front door

always spraying his favorite scents on all of the things he sends u

falling asleep on call with u every night without fail and if the call fails he will spam call u back until u pick up

"just say it and im hopping on the next flight" and he does

when he sees u he tries to act very nonchalant in a "oh its about time u came and visited" way but when u both pull into a hug hes crying into ur shoulder

fuma ⌒☆

constantly asking for updates on what ur doing

leaves u with good morning and good night messages with reminders to always eat

when ur stressed out he surprises u with ur favorite beverage delivered right to ur doorstep

ur address is the only one on his uber eats app

whispering sweet reassuring words into the mic until u fall asleep... ends it with a "goodnight honey.."

he does hang up after a few hours though because he doesnt want to ruin ur battery life

will send silly selfies with doodles on his face every now and then

"wish u were here" 25/8

named all of his highest level pokemon after u on pokemon go

nicholas ⌒☆

always taking pictures of his day to day life and sending them to u so ur updated... also because he wants u to feel like ur with him

not much of a caller but when u do call its more of u two just fting while doing ur own thing

constant invites to listen along with him on spotify

"this reminded me of u" and its a picture of a gum wrapper or a flower. no in between

always asking for advice on what to buy & sometimes he will buy something for u that matches

when hes eating at a restaurant by himself he takes a pic of the other side of the table and doodles u as a stick figure sitting across from him

has a whole folder in his camera roll of pictures of u and looks through it every night

always asking u to take selfies for him so he can save them and use it as his lock screen

24/7 tweets about how much he misses his girlfriend and the only follower is u

euijoo ⌒☆

u two have all the shared widgets in the world... the pet one... the drawing one... yeah

insists on turning on ur cameras for movie night but turns it off when it gets to an emotional part of the movie because he doesnt want u to see him cry

an extremely long spotify collab playlist between the both of u and he will only listen to that playlist, even when hes going to bed

when ur on video calls he will keep his eyes fixed on u even when ur not looking at him because he loves to watch u breathe

loves loves loves getting updates from u through texts & will smile like an idiot for the entire day when u send a selfie

voice memos are his main way of communicating even if its just a small "ohh..." he will record it and press send

when ur feeling upset he writes essays about how great u are in ur shared page on the notes app

will never fail to bring u up even in the slightest when hes out with friends

his lock screen is set as a cute doodle u drew of u two together

#&team #&team fluff #&team scenarios #&team x reader #&team imagines #&team euijoo #&team fuma #&team k #&team nicholas #i love &team #goodnight

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otdiaftg · 2 months

Text

The King's Men - Chapter Twelve

Day: Friday, March 8th / 9th* Time: 10:30 PM EST

"Hello?" "Hello, Junior. Do you remember me?" Neil's heart lurches to a sick halt. It isn't his father or Riko, but he would know this voice anywhere. It is Lola Malcolm, one of his father's closest people and one of the two who'd tried teaching Neil how to wield a knife so many years ago. She'd been in and out of their house so many times Neil had thought for a while she lived there with them. She poses as Nathan's personal assistant, but her job is to get rid of the bodies Nathan's circle create. She is worth her weight in gold. Not a single one has ever turned up again. Neil tilts the phone away from his ear and takes a long, slow breath. It doesn't help. His lungs are full of shards of ice, chilling him to the bone and cutting him up from the inside out. It is an age before Neil finds his voice again and he can't keep a thick edge from it. "I didn't give you this number, Lola." "So you do remember me," she says. "Now you see, that's bad, because if you remember me, you remember who you are and where your place is." "I made my own place." "You don't have that right." She gives him a beat to respond, but Neil has nothing. "Are you listening? It is time to go. If you make this difficult for us, you will regret it for the rest of your very short life. Do you understand?" Neil wants to be sick. Lola trashed bodies; she didn't often make them. That was what the rest of Nathan's people were for. Neil remembered faces better than he remembered names, but he can guess who Lola has brought with her. Lola's business partner of choice is her brother Romero, and where Romero goes Jackson is never far behind. The three are Nathan's inner circle. They answer only to Nathan's right-hand man DiMaccio and Nathan himself. Neil could have tried outrunning one of them. He won't make it past three. For a moment he is so scared he can't breathe, but fast on the heels of fright is an irrational and wild anger. He is halfway to winning Andrew's trust, a weekend from his first vacation, and one month from semifinals. There are only four matches left in championships. Neil is so close to everything he wants and Lola is here to steal it away. "Put a hand on me and you'll regret it," Neil says. "Oh, what's this?" Lola says, entertained. "Has the baby finally inherited a spine? Your father will be glad to hear it." "My—" Neil chokes on it. "He is in Seattle. You'll never get me that far." "He is in Baltimore," she corrects him. "His parole hearing was on your birthday. They had to notify his family when his case came up. You must have missed the memo, being dead and all, so I'll fill you in. They made a final decision last week, and the feds swung it so he'd get released back to Maryland this morning. They're hoping being back in familiar territory will make him careless." Neil can hear the savage smile in her words. "Don't worry, kid. They'll never know you stopped by. I'll make sure of it." Neil blinks and see's that zero on his eyelids. He is out of time. For a moment Neil feels the weight of Andrew's mouth against his. He digs his fingers into his lower lip and tries to breathe around them.

Art used with permission by Aymmidumps. Thank you @aymmidumps!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

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elen-aranel · 9 months

Note

Helloo~ May I make a Christopher Pike x reader request? It's a month old scuttlebutt, that the captain is involved with you, based solely on misconstrued events (leaving the direction of his quarters early morn in a rumpled uniform, stopping by medbay for a 'shot') Everyone knows that everyone knows, from cadet to captain. Except you don't. And noone has bothered checking. And the captain finds it funny (and you 'apparently' don't mind either as you've not bothered to shoot it down) so any moments you two have in view of others, he gives you a conspirational wink with some flirty banter. You think (hope) he's really flirting and not just being friendly.

Is it a bit much for a request? If so lemme know. Or i can commission? Idk. The idea hit me and it made me giggle with all the ways it could go.

Thank you so much for the request, and for your patience... this took a while! I hope you like the direction I've gone with it <333

Common Knowledge

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings/Notes: Reader wears the dress version of the standard SNW uniform. Food mentions, alcohol mention. WC: 5.8k

It all starts the morning after you spent gamma shift in a Jeffries tube. Well. Several Jeffries tubes, in fact, chasing down an issue with a relay that had blown and taken a bunch of circuitry out with it, including some life support systems.

You’re feeling good, though, as you step out into the corridor on a deck full of crew quarters. Yes, your red uniform dress is creased and you’re in dire need of a shower, but the relay and the burned-out circuitry are replaced, and all systems are back online.

You deserve a water shower, not a sonic one, you tell yourself as you head toward the turbolift, nodding to the occasional officer as you walk by them. You just need to make sure the ops console on the bridge is reading everything correctly, then your duty shift will be done.

“Commander, Lieutenant,” you greet Lieutenant Commander Chin-Riley and Lieutenant Ortegas as you enter the turbolift. Unlike you, they both look fresh and ready to face the day. Number One nods in greeting, but Ortegas looks you up and down quite blatantly, and you find you’re trying to smooth your skirt despite yourself.

“Long night?”

“I—” you start, but before you can reply—

“Computer, hold. Open the doors,” Commander Chin-Riley says, and as you turn, Captain Pike is walking into the lift. And somehow, even though you’ve been on the Enterprise for a while, you’re never not struck by his presence. His broad shoulders. How handsome he is.

“Good morning, Number One, Ortegas. Lieutenant.” He puts an odd weight on your title, even though of course he knows your name, and then your mind goes blank as he winks one of those blue eyes.

“C-captain,” you stutter, well aware of Ortegas trying to stifle a laugh next to you.

“Sleep well?” Una asks, something knowing in her voice, after the captain directs the turbolift to the bridge.

“I’ve had… more restful nights,” he says, and looks at you sideways, doubtless taking in your rumpled dress and less-than-fresh appearance. “Like the lieutenant here, I’d wager,” he adds, and you must have missed a memo somewhere because this ‘lift ride has gotten very weird, very fast.

You decide keeping quiet is your best bet — it’s a short ride, thank goodness.

But you can’t shake the feeling that there are eyes on you as you finish your work on the bridge.

It may have started in a Jeffries tube, but it continues in sickbay.

You appreciate knowing sickbay is there. Doctor M'Benga and Nurse Chapel are skilled at their jobs, and you’ve had cause to be grateful for them when accidents happen, from a pulled muscle during a workout to a painful plasma burn from faulty equipment.

That doesn’t mean you love getting your quarterly check-up and shots. But you decided early on in your career that you weren’t going to be one of those people doctors had to chase for their physicals. Every three months you turn up. You’re due for routine vaccinations against some common alien viruses that human immune systems need reminders about, and your contraceptive shot.

Not that you really need it, of course. You aren’t getting any. The closest you’ve been since you joined the Enterprise was Lieutenant Paulson, a senior engineer who sometimes commands gamma shift when you’re on that rotation. He asked you out to dinner on Starbase 1, and while you like him as a person, you had to decline. You’d known him for a while, and never felt any kind of spark. And there’s been no-one— there’s been almost no-one else on the ship that you’re interested in. But still, you get your shot.

Today your appointment is during your shift. You didn’t want to be interrupted; you’re working on a new scanning device to be used on a planet with an unusual combination of atmosphere and magnetic field, which affects the resolution of normal scanners. So when your reminder went off you kept hold of your PADD, and you carried on entering the design parameters as you walked.

“Woah there,” a voice cuts through the equations you’re focussing on, and you feel hands on your arms, steadying you as you stumble.

As it turns out, walking with a PADD is a mistake.

Especially when you walk straight into the captain in the corridor outside sickbay.

“Captain! I’m so sorry! I—I was— I’ll pay more attention.” You look up, flustered, into his blue eyes, suddenly keenly aware of the bulk of him, of the controlled strength in his hands. Happily, he seems amused rather than annoyed, that half smile playing about his lips.

“I do admire your... dedication, Lieutenant, but you’re right. Paying attention is a good idea.”

And as the doors to sickbay swish open, letting Chief Kyle and one of your fellow engineers out onto the corridor, you realise the captain hasn’t moved. You’re still in his space, and he’s still holding you.

“Captain, Lieutenant... are you joining us?” Nurse Chapel looks as though she’s suppressing a smile. “You’re, uh... both here for your quarterly shots, right?” she adds, as Pike finally steps back, and you walk with him into sickbay. You nod, mutely.

“Yes. Timed it perfectly this time, didn’t we Lieutenant?” he says, and he grins at you, knowing.

“Sure,” you find yourself saying, sitting down a little abruptly on the biobed Doctor M'Benga indicates. Is Pike… flirting with you? Or just being his usual warm self?

“This shouldn’t take too long. I’m sure you want to get back to your... duties.” M'Benga looks meaningfully at Pike, who shrugs, a picture of innocence.

“Can you blame us?”

You can’t help your smile.

But actually, now you really think about it, maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it started with the onions.

You have a shift free, moving from nights to days as you do on a semi-regular basis, since some edict came down from Starfleet that people shouldn’t just work nights for health reasons. It doesn’t entirely make sense to you; you’re on a ship, so it’s not like anyone has a real day or night, but being able to socialise with people who are always on alpha is a plus, and you suppose the same rules apply to planetary bases which do have day and night.

The captain has invited you to dinner. That isn’t special, even though you wish it were – he likes to get to know the whole crew in an informal setting, and it’s just your turn. And maybe you over-think it just a little, during the day, planning what to wear to make yourself look pretty but not like you’d tried too hard.

Either way, you are early. You only realise as you press the chime for the door, when it’s too late to back out.

But the captain’s smile is warm and welcoming. “Hi, come in, come in. You any good with a vegetable knife?”

You grin in return, relaxing. “Yes sir. It’s been a little while, but I can chop.”

“Chris. We’re not on the clock right now.”

“Yes, Chris.” You follow him into the kitchen area of his quarters, taking in the fire, the view of a green forest through the windows, all the details that mark the space as his.

“Excellent. That spatial anomaly today— well. I’m playing catch-up here.”

“Oh wow, you really are...” the vegetables are all laid out ready, and there are a lot. But then, you don’t know how many people will be here. “Set me to work. How do you want the carrots?”

Pike’s knives are sharp and well balanced, and it’s easy to chop carrots into even circles, and to dice potatoes into neat cubes. You chat, too, about the food he’s making, and the special unit he had the ship’s botanists set up to let him grow fresh herbs in space.

You’re pretty much on autopilot by the time you get to the onions. You know the technique: you slice them in half through the root, then make sure you don’t cut the root again as you cut from close to the root to the tip, then across into chunks.

“So, there’s something I’m curious about,” you say as you grab the next onion.

“Oh?” Pike pauses for a moment, hand poised over the control for the oven.

“The forest overlay you have for the windows. Is it somewhere special to you? It’s really lovely.” You blink a little as you chop. Perhaps you got a lash or something in your eye.

Pike presses the control on the oven, then turns to look at you. “No, actually it’s—” he frowns. “Wait, are you all right?”

You blink again. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Your brow draws together, and you put your knife down, turning to him a little more.

“Because you’re crying.” He starts towards you.

“Oh, damn.” You can feel it now — that tell-tale sting in your eyes. You look down at your chopping. “The onions. But I was being careful.” You sigh, blink again, and feel a tear roll down your cheek.

“If there are a lot it doesn’t matter how careful you are. I’m sorry, I should have done them.” He reaches past you, and you’re terribly aware of him in your space. He pulls off a piece of kitchen towel.

“It’s not your fault—” the words die on your lips as he turns to face you, blue eyes filled with concern.

“I’ll just—I don’t want you to use your hands—” and he takes the towel and dabs your face, and you suck a little breath in at his closeness, wondering why it has to be in a circumstance like this, when the door chime goes. “Enter,” he says, distractedly, blotting away one more tear before stepping back. “There. No harm done. But you should wash up. Ah, Spock, perhaps you can take over the chopping.”

You look round to see that Spock, Sam Kirk, Ortegas and Uhura have all walked in, just in time to see you with red eyes from the onions. At least, you think as you wash the onion off your hands, your makeup is waterproof.

Regardless of how things did or did not start, you’re pretty sure the captain only thinks of you as a friend. That this flirting is just a joke between the two of you... even if you wish it were real. Either way, you decide you might as well enjoy it.

You get back to the transport point from your solo hike on Chi Orianis Prime – it’s beautiful, with fluffy peachy-pink grass that’s soft underfoot and smells very slightly citrus-y when you tread on it, interspersed with lavender coloured bushes, with views of blue lakes and red mountains in the distance – right as Pike gets back from his fishing trip. Given how he’s carrying his cooler, it must have been a successful one.

You’re just about to ask him about it when Chapel and Ortegas arrive, with Uhura and La’an in tow, laughing together. They’re wearing t-shirts and shorts and sandals, carrying towels — clearly back from the beach, La’an actually looking like she might have caught the sun a little.

You take a step closer to him.

“Enjoy your trip?” The smile on Erica’s face is just a little too innocent.

“Yes, thank you. Wouldn’t have been the same without the lieutenant here, though.” Pike catches your eye, and you smile back at him, sappy, playing along.

“The captain’s right. We had a good time.”

None of your close friends wanted to go to movie night with you tonight. They’re showing a classic 20th century Earth film, Casablanca, and none of them were interested in seeing something that old. But it seems pretty popular with the rest of the crew when you get there. You pick up some popcorn first, wondering once again whose idea it was to put a Starfleet delta on the containers, and you head to find a seat.

Maybe it was a good thing your friends didn’t come. There aren’t too many spaces left when you go to sit down, but there are a few seats a couple of rows in front of where Spock and Nurse Chapel are sitting together. You settle in, allowing yourself three pieces of popcorn before the lights go down.

And right before they do, Pike slides into the free seat next to you.

“I thought you were going to stand me up,” you tell him, tilting your popcorn container over.

“A gentleman would never,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he takes a piece.

The back of the shuttle is open to the bay, and Cadets Novakova and Manuel, on engineering rotation, are standing inside it with you, PADDs in hand. You’ve popped a panel off the inside of the shuttle, and you indicate a junction point.

“So, okay. You want to interplex the circuitry here. What will be the result of that? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“Well, the increased signal strength will improve thruster response time and efficiency.” Manuel says, shrugging his broad shoulders like it’s obvious.

“Yes, and we need better responsiveness for the planet. The atmospheric differentials are almost out of spec.” Novakova nods. “This is the easiest way to achieve that.”

“All right. And looking at the systems in front of you, will there be any other consequences?”

“No, there shouldn’t, it should just—” there’s a pause, then Novakova steps back, playing with a twist of her blonde hair as she considers. “Wait. That pathway, it connects to the impulse engine as well, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does, and the boosted signal would go through there too…” Manuel’s fingers fly over his PADD.

They look at each other as the penny drops, and you notice Pike in the bay, listening in. You tilt your head and raise a brow in a silent invitation, but he shakes his head a little, content to observe.

“So if we interplex the circuitry there, we will get an increase in thruster efficiency, but at the expense of introducing instability into the impulse control matrix.” Manuel sighs.

“You’re flying along, minding your business and then boom. Impulse reactor overload.” Novakova winces. “I didn’t see that.”

You nod. “You didn’t. Because neither of you really looked. For what it’s worth, it would probably have worked on the shuttles at the academy. But these are a different model. You have to work with what’s actually in front of you. That’s half the battle.”

“Wise words, Lieutenant.” Pike leans into the back of the shuttle, and you can’t help your smile at the praise as the cadets turn to acknowledge him. “The two of you should take them to heart.”

You're sitting on a bench in the bar, sipping a favourite drink, listening to Ensign Thyra play an Earth guitar but sing a wistful sounding song in her native Andorian, when Lieutenant Ortegas sits down next to you. And then Nurse Chapel sits on your other side.

“So, you and the captain. How’s that going?” Christine’s opening is straight to the point.

You give her a sceptical look. “It... isn’t? Hi to you too, by the way.” You turn to Erica. “To both of you.”

“Oh, come on. You guys are not subtle.” Erica rolls her eyes. “It’s been scuttlebutt for weeks. Me, Number One,” she starts counting off on her fingers, “Christine, Mbenga, Uhura...”

“Sam Kirk,” Christine adds.

“Yes, Sam Kirk, Spock, La’an...”

“We’ve all seen it. I even heard the cadets talking about it. Everyone knows.”

You shake your head, putting your drink down on the table in front of you. “We’re not... I don’t—” you look from one to the other. “There’s nothing between the captain and me.” You take a breath. “He flirts, sometimes I flirt back, but it’s just a joke.”

“Doesn’t look like a joke to me.” Christine says, her voice soft, almost sympathetic.

Erica shrugs. “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it, if you guys are keeping things to yourselves... We just wanted you to know that we’re happy for you. Pike should have someone on the ship. And you. You should have someone too.” Her smile as she stands to leave is genuine.

“I—I’m not hiding anything. But thanks, I guess? I appreciate the sentiment.”

Arriving early when the captain invites you to a crew dinner is your habit now. You enjoy helping with prep when you can, and having a quiet moment to chat with Chris.

But this time you use the computer to check that others have arrived before you get there. You try to relax; these are your friends, Chris is your friend, but with what Erica and Christine said… you feel self-conscious. Second guessing everything you do and say.

You leave as soon as you can without being rude.

You feel a bit self-conscious with work, too, although you try to bury it. Especially with Pike piloting the shuttle for this mission. You’re sitting in your tactical uniform in the back of shuttle Kepler with Spock, Sam Kirk, La’an, and a couple more science officers. You would expect Kirk especially to pass some comment, but even he is quiet, because Zeta Lyrae VI’s wind shear is every bit as bad as science predicted.

A long-range scanning probe identified it as a possible source of dilithium as well as some other useful minerals — visual scan only, though, because the strange magnetic field prevented scanning of the interior. But that’s where the scanner you developed comes in. The visual scan also tagged some potential ruins which Kirk will investigate, and there’s general surveying to do too.

You grit your teeth against the turbulence. You trust that the captain’s piloting skills and the modifications you and the cadets made to the shuttle will see you safely to the ground, but you still feel motion sick. You know, though, there are pattern enhancers in the cargo. Perhaps you’ll be able to beam back up.

The turbulence lessens as you get deeper into the atmosphere, but you’re still very glad when the shuttle touches down. There’s a metallic tang to the air as the shuttle door opens, but it’s cool and refreshing despite that, and you take a deep breath, settling your rolling stomach, before you get to work.

The dawn sky of Zeta Lyrae IV is muted shades of pale blue and grey, warming a little to mauve-pink at the horizon, where the two suns have just risen. Barren-looking plains stretch out in front of you, with a river lazily meandering across, and there are hills leading to mountains not far away to your right. It’s hard to make out, but the lines of dark stones partially embedded in the ground to your left could well be the remains of a wall, and there are other, more defined structures further away in that direction.

“Lieutenant, you have everything you need?”

“Yes sir.” You lift your last case again, the heavy one, and try to keep your face blank at the weight of it. You know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but its contents were too large for your backpack. “I’ve identified a site two kilometres away that’s suitable for the scanner base. Enhanced scanning should be online within an hour.”

Pike nods. “Kirk, La’an, you have the ruins. Spock, the science survey is yours.” He turns to you. “Let me help with that.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” you protest as Pike takes the case from you, fingers brushing yours for one tiny electric moment.

“We’ll make quicker time if we share the load. Which I’m sure Spock will appreciate.”

“Aye, sir.”

You notice that there’s no flirtatious comment today.

This planet feels a bit like a dream, with its dead quiet, muted colours, pearly grey sky and the two suns gently highlighting the landscape. The only evidence you can see of the turbulent atmosphere are the occasional blue-green clouds scudding quickly across the sky.

You pick your way through the pathless terrain, looking for any signs of life. While there are scraps of ragged looking vegetation here and there, a lot of it seems dead, and the planet as a whole seems mostly barren.

You don’t make conversation; there’s something about the planet’s quiet and your confused emotions that steals your ability to make small talk, and Pike is quiet too. There’s just the sound of two pairs of boots crunching on the ground.

Until you almost step on a flower: a seven petaled bloom in the shape of a star, pale blue in the middle deepening to grey-purple just at the tips. You pause to get a better look, to see if there are any others like it nearby, but it seems solitary.

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

You look up to see Pike has stopped too, mild concern on his face.

“Yes sir, I’m fine.” You straighten up. “I just... this flower is the only one I’ve seen, and I wonder... is it the last gasp of the life that used to live on this planet, or is it a glimpse of hope for the future?”

Pike glances at the flower, but his focus is on you when he speaks. “We’ll likely never know, but I... I choose hope.”

The site you chose from the visual scan is obvious when you get there. You’re at the edge of the hills, and there’s a grey cliff curving round one edge of a flat open area. Geophysics had identified it as a potential location for dilithium, and as you get close you can see veins of the pink crystal running through the rock.

Now you just need to find out how much there is.

With Pike helping it doesn’t take too long to set the scanner up. You start with the base in the case he was carrying, and together you fold it out into a large circle, locking struts and its three legs in place.

You attach the probe that will drill into the soil, the antennas to communicate with the smaller unit near the shuttle and with the Enterprise, and to facilitate scanning in the atmosphere. Finally, you attach the computer from your backpack which is the brains of the system — you can’t help your private smile of satisfaction as it comes online. The shuttle is far enough away that its systems don’t affect the sensitive scans, and when the probe deploys and calibration data flows straight through immediately.

You talk to Commander Pelia and Lieutenant Spock on comms, making adjustments on the fly to the different parameters, optimising the uplink from the scanner and away team’s tricorders to the Enterprise.

Pike checks in with La’an at some point, but next time you look up you see he’s a little way away, tricorder out, following a standard scanning pattern working outward from where you are. You’re a little surprised he didn’t tell you that’s what he was going to do. Then the scanner beeps as the drill returns a result outside expected tolerances, pulling your focus.

It’s easier to get lost in your work than think about him, and for a long while, you do.

“Lieutenant, do you see that?” There’s a note of concern in Pike’s voice, and you follow his gaze to the horizon to your right.

It almost looks like a distant rain shower would on Earth, but there are green lights sparking all through it. Like lightning but less directional. You take a breath, and realise the metallic smell has intensified, to the point you can almost taste it.

“Yes, sir, I do.” You turn and meet Pike’s eyes.

“Plasma storm?”

“Plasma storm.” You redirect your scanner’s gain to maximum in that direction, sacrificing resolution elsewhere.

Pike’s tone is rueful. “Should’ve known when I scanned a burned patch of vegetation. It must have developed quickly.”

“Looks like it’s moving fast, too.”

“I’ll contact the rest of the away team, have them meet us at the shuttle. You start packing.”

“Sir,” you reply, distracted, already deep in the scanner readouts. You vaguely hear Pike calling Spock, then La’an, but you’re focused on one last scan.

“Lieutenant? I gave you an order.”

“Yes sir, you did, but look.” You point to the readout of the storm’s speed on the screen. “Scans show that even if we leave right now, we can’t make it back to the shuttle before the storm hits. We don’t even have time for them to pick us up.”

Pike frowns. “Options?”

“The cliff. There’s a cave system behind it. I don’t think there’s an entrance close enough, but...”

“Phasers? All this dilithium makes it risky.”

“Plasma burns are no fun, sir. I would know.”

He raises a brow. “Sounds like a story for later. All right. Let’s do this.”

You grab your phaser from your holster and dial the power up.

“Fire.”

You focus your beam on the weakest spot, and Pike fires at it too. And... nothing happens, for long enough for a shade of doubt to creep in. Then there’s a sound, a pile of rubble, and a gap. Just large enough for a person.

The cave is dark. It’s big, too, enough that the torches on your vests can’t illuminate the other side from where you are.

The storm is still raging outside, but the sound of it is quiet in here; the narrow space you opened the gap into curved round for a few metres before opening out into the space you’re in.

Now all you can do is sit and wait.

And you’re so aware of Pike, sitting with you.

He’s quiet, and now you come to think of it he has been all day. Definitely no flirting. You try to steal a glance at him, see what he’s thinking, but it’s too dark, and you don’t want to turn to face him.

You cast around for a distraction, and find a piece of dilithium embedded in the rock floor of the cavern next to you. The surface is flat and glassy-smooth, but with a few imperfections, and you like the feel of it under your fingers. In your head you go over the dilithium crystal eigenstates you memorised at the academy in one of your classes in warp field mechanics, and calculate the power output you would need for your phaser to trigger different levels.

“Sir, I’d like to try something, to give us some more light. It’s safe.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

You adjust your phaser to its second lowest setting, scoot across a little and fire on the dilithium, counting seconds in your head. It starts glowing red immediately, but as you shut the beam off the glow spreads, along one vein, then another, then another, until the whole cavern is lit up like its own galaxy, surrounding you on the floor, the walls, the ceiling.

“Wow, that’s—that’s good work. Thank you.”

There’s something in his expression as he looks at you, the wonder in his eyes melting into a smile, that makes you brave.

“So… I had an—an interesting chat with Chapel and Ortegas the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently the scuttlebutt is that we’re dating... we’ve been dating for a while. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them it wasn’t true.” You stare out across the cavern at all the glimmering lights.

“Oh.” He exhales. “Hah, yeah… I’m, uh, sorry about that? Things… got away from me.” You hear him stir, move into a different position.

You frown. “I don’t understand. What are you sorry for?”

“I’ve always been interested in you. And you’re not the sort of person that’s cowed by rank – Paulson is your superior, in your chain of command, but I was in the bar when he asked you to dinner, and you were so sure of yourself when you rejected him. So that day in the turbolift, Una and Erica jumping to conclusions... Your face was a picture, and I had to take Una’s bait. But by the time she told me there was already a rumour, you were joining in, and I—”

His voice goes quiet, like a confession.

“I couldn’t stop. And that wasn’t fair to you… making you an object of gossip like that.”

“Chris, I—” but now it comes to it, you can’t find the words. How do you tell him that you wouldn’t mind, not at all, if only the gossip were real? “But you did stop. We’ve barely spoken today. Until now.”

“I can read the room. You weren’t up for it the other night. Or today. And… I would never force my attentions where they clearly aren’t wanted.”

“But... they are, Chris. They are wanted.”

The cavern is dead quiet, and you almost wonder if you actually spoke aloud. But the look in Pike’s eyes when you finally turn to meet them—

“Lieutenant Spock to Captain Pike. Come in, please.”

Pike shrugs a little, face apologetic, as he flips open his communicator.

The ride back to the Enterprise is as quiet, and bumpy, as the ride to the planet. Spock and the rest of the away team had sheltered in the shuttle with shields up while the storm passed over them, and when the Enterprise’s scanners had shown that another one was forming, they came to pick you up.

All the equipment you left outside was destroyed.

But you think, as you climb in the shuttle, you catch a glimpse of one of those star-shaped flowers, still intact. Still blooming.

And Pike makes a point to catch your eye as you leave the shuttle bay. It’s subtle, but you recognise the invitation.

You think you can smell food as you press Pike’s door chime, and the scent only gets more appetising as you walk in. The lights are low, apart from the fire burning brightly, and Pike pauses, apron on over his gold uniform, to smile at you as you walk over to the kitchen area.

“You came.”

“Of course.”

He picks a small bottle up, and pours from it into a salad bowl in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry… I may have gone a little overboard on the mac and cheese. I thought we could use a little comfort food after that planet.”

“It smells amazing. Anything I can do to help?”

“It’s almost ready. You could pour the wine?” He indicates to the bottle and two glasses on one end of his L shape table. You uncork the chilled bottle and take care of the drinks while he brings plates, salad, and the macaroni cheese, piping hot and smelling delicious.

Sitting next to Chris, rather than opposite like you might at a restaurant or on the other side of the L as you have when you’ve been to crew meals here, feels so intimate. As he reaches over to get some salad, or you go to pick up your glass to sip some chardonnay, you can’t help but touch. You try not to let being this close to him distract you… as intimate as this is, as hopeful as you are, nothing is settled.

You take a bite of your pasta and sigh. “It’s perfect, Chris. Creamy, the cheese— everything. Perfect comfort food. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You see him relax a little as you load up another forkful; he cares what you think.

You eat for a while in companionable quiet, then he takes a breath.

“I’m planning on demoting Spock. He has the worst timing.” He quirks one of those half smiles at you, the kind that make you melt a little, but then his expression goes serious.

“My position on this ship… I have to be careful of it. Your training – everyone’s training – tells you to do as I say. So, if I’m… interested… in someone, usually I try to set that aside.” He puts his fork down and shakes his head a little. “Clearly I didn’t do well on that score with you. But… I would have to be sure, before I truly pursue anything, that a person isn’t saying yes because of my rank.”

“I told myself that flirting was just a joke between us. That you don’t get involved with your crew. I want it to be real, but when people assumed that it was… It spooked me for a moment there.” You turn to face him more fully, to look into his eyes.

“I understand what it means for you to be Captain Pike. I understand that the Enterprise comes before me. But I felt that—that pull toward you, long before whatever this was started. It’s not your rank, your position of authority, Chris, it’s you.”

Chris stands from his chair, reaching a hand out to you. You stand and take it, his fingers warm in yours, and let him draw you to him, feeling the press of his body all along yours. You stare into his eyes, and see a wonder there that you’re sure he sees in your eyes too – the knowledge that you can finally have this. But then your eyes drift shut as he kisses you, gently, unhurried, savouring the moment.

You part for just a second, and then it gets passionate as you kiss him back, one hand on his chest, while his other hand finds its way to your lower back, holding you tighter. Your lips part, his tongue finds yours and you taste him, and you can’t get enough.

“So I know your shots are up to date,” Chris says, voice gravelly, when you pause for breath. “Would you like to take this to the bedroom?”

“Yes please.” You don’t care if you sound needy; you just want him. He takes your hand again and leads the way.

You are not quite sure what happened to your dress. You remember Chris helping you take it off last night, but quite how it got this crumpled is a bit of a mystery. You lift it up from the floor, and try to shake it out, not very successfully.

“Breakfast is served,” Chris says, looking fresh and neat in his uniform, not a hair out of place. No evidence to be seen of your activities last night, or how little sleep he may have had. “Oh, did you want a new uniform? I can synthesise one.”

“No need. I’ll have time to change in my quarters before shift.” You pull it on and try to smooth your skirt. “Breakfast?”

“Waffles. And real maple syrup. I know this little farm—”

It isn’t far from Pike’s quarters to the turbolift, and the officers in the corridor nod and smile to you as usual. Until you meet Lieutenant Ortegas.

She looks you up and down, taking in your creased dress with a raised brow and a sly smile. “I saw the duty rosters; I know you’re on alpha today. So… you get lucky last night?”

You try to hide your smile, but you feel too good – you don’t really want to.

“Yes, Erica, I did.”

Everyone will know, but you don’t mind. You and Chris are at the start of something special.

#Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #Captain Pike #Christopher Pike Imagine #Star Trek Strange New Worlds #fanfic #ask #elen answers #request #noctiscorvus #writings of the girl from outer space #Common Knowledge

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traumacat800 · 1 year

Text

Yandere Bob Velseb headcanons!! (SFW)

Tw:

Anything you’d expect with Bob, possessiveness, blood, etc. Although it’s somewhat sweet.

-Fidget <3

Yandere rating:

7/10.

If anything, he’s hella possessive over you. He completely disregards your friends and family. You aren’t allowed to keep in contact with them unless he says so. Every once and awhile he’ll let you see them. After he kidnapped and threatened them of course. You were horrified when you were told that your family was going to throw out your cat. You begged Bob to let you keep your cat, to which he agreed.

Expect to be threatened if you even think about leaving the house or trying to get any contact with the outside world. For example, touching the phone without his permission.

He doesn’t like to hurt you of course but he’s too afraid of losing you to control his morals.

However he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt in most situations.

For example if you try to call him while he’s not at home. You cut a vein once when slicing apples and out of panic, you tried to use his computer online to figure out how to heal a deep cut.

You stopped the bleeding but Bob got a notification that his computer had been unlocked.

Bob came home mad, but after seeing your deep wound. He pleaded for you to forgive him, in which you did.

You're allowed to watch Tv, I mean, you can use your phone of course. But, there’s guidelines. You can text your family and friends but you're not allowed to see them of course or let them know your whereabouts. If anything, you wouldn’t want to text them while Bobs around. Thankfully Bob trusts you enough to not go through your phone. It’s one of the only private privileges you get.

He’s pretty much gentle with you, he’s a big guy and he knows that.

He’ll take a lot of your used clothes, you’ve caught him sniffing them a couple times. It’s weird, but you assume it could be worse.

He’s obsessed with you. Bob wants you to have everything you could possibly want. Any clothes you're interested in? He’s already buying them for you.

He’s a great cook, actually, one of the best you’ve ever seen. You eat his food of course. You made sure to tell him that if he tried anything funny you would break up with him.

He didn’t take it well but you stood your ground. You were not eating human meat. He got the memo, so he normally feeds you animal meat. Although he always tells you that human meat tastes better.

Sometimes as a punishment, he’ll explain to you in deep detail how he cooks and tortures his victim. He holds you close so can’t escape, it’s a very traumatizing experience. You cry and tremble as he tells you horrific stories, sometimes causing panic attacks. It makes you feel trapped, it also makes you realize how violent Bob really is. How vulnerable you truly are with him. He doesn’t exactly like seeing you in such a state but it’s anything to keep you here with him, safe.

The first time he did it you didn’t speak to him for a while.

Bob realized just how much it affected you. He’s only saved it as his last resource. He doesn’t want to hurt you physically but mentally should get the message across that you can never leave him.

You see him with the suit often unless he’s coming back home. You're reluctant to let him kiss you after he returns. Hugs are also a no-no until he’s showered. Bob will whine about how much he missed you. You’ll dodge any affection and point upstairs to the shower.

He constantly wants your attention. Somehow, you don’t mind.

You love to cuddle with him, it’s one of your favorite things in life especially during winter. Bob is soft, and you can’t help but want to cuddle up to him while watching a movie.

For a murderer, Bob seems to prefer comedy over horror. You’ll find him laughing at family comedies.

The sets of humor you both have are oddly different.

You get a kick out of calling him Bob the builder. He gets offended by it. You think the face he makes is funny whenever you ask him to build you something.

He’ll laugh at old school jokes, most of which you'll end up cringing at. They’re bad, really.

Your relationship isn’t completely healthy. All you know is, you love Bob, and you know he loves you back. Even if it’s a little too much.

#yandere bob velseb #bob velseb x reader #bob velseb #spooky month 5 #spooky month #sr pelo #yandere bob x reader #bob spooky month #Bob is hot #I just #I just really love this man #like sm

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something-about-sunflowers · 9 months

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I kinda feel like too many people aren't looking at the whole picture with Guillermo and Nandor/his family this season?

Guillermo knows, to a certain extent, that it's hurting Nandor that he's avoiding him. He just can't not avoid him because of the whole 'secretly turned by another vampire and Nandor will have to kill him then himself for the sake of his bruised honor/ego' thing.

Guillermo is also hurting though. His attempt to take some agency for himself by actively pursuing something he's wanted since before he even met Nandor has massively backfired on him in every possible way he couldn't even begin to expect. He didn't know he'd have a Weird Transformation. He didn't know there was some taboo for having another vampire turn him as Nandor's familiar (and he's not actually Nandor's familiar anymore anyway, technically, they're all just dumb and forgot that fact). He, comparatively, only recently found out about the whole Van Helsing thing and that his family can't control themselves around vampires (though I feel like it probably will be different with their Memo, if we're being honest), so he very likely thought for most of his time waiting for Nandor to turn him that he'd still be able to see them occasionally and get/give closure over a longer period of time before he had to stop seeing them when it became obvious he wasn't aging like they were.

He does care about his mom, yall, did you miss him breaking down in the elevator or were you just distracted by him breaking the hand-rail? He's just been very preoccupied with a whole lot of drama (Which he complained about! He told Nandor how upset he was that the wedding and Baby Colin were keeping him too busy to see his family! The end of season 4 was days before the start of season 5.) and an extreme life change. He's an adult. That kind of shit happens when you're an adult (granted, his situation is significantly more fantastical given the whole vampires thing but still). Sometimes you get caught up in your adult life and you miss your mom's birthday. Sometimes you make a big life change that you think is what's best for you and it means you won't be able to be as close to your family. Yes. It's selfish of him - to an extent - but for fuck's sake you can't live your life for other people, even - especially, in some cases - if those people are your family. I'm kind of appalled at people saying that he's deserving to feel bad and rejected because he made a choice for himself. Do you think his mom is blaming him as harshly as some of you are? No! The first thing she asked him was 'are you happy with this change?' She cares about her son's happiness. He's not entirely in the right but fuck do yall know how to do anything but swing hard in the other direction? There's grey areas! All in the middle! Right there, look!!

And then on top of him already being extremely emotionally compromised from reckoning with having to leave his family behind, on top of the already 'emotionally difficult' avoiding Nandor for both of their sakes, he gets another big rejection in his own home from the people he cares most about. I don't know if Nandor noticed that his rejection hurt Guillermo. He's dumb but I really don't know if he's that dumb. He's been able to recognize in the past when he's hurt Guillermo so I don't see why he couldn't now. Are yall gonna blame Memo for feeling bad if Nandor decides to do something to try and win him back or cheer him up? Or if Nandor is upset/worried about having hurt Guillermo?

I don't really know where I'm going with this anymore lmao. My point is: Yes, Guillermo's choice is hurting people but it's also hurting him and he's been hurt for a while now and hurt people hurt people (which is why Nandor lashed out too!) so cut him a little bit of slack maybe? He didn't do anything to intentionally hurt anyone he just wanted to take some agency back for himself that he's been missing for like. Ten. Thirteen years or so now.

#the dork is being a dork #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #wwdits s5 spoilers #wwdits season 5 spoilers #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows spoilers #what we do in the shadows s5 spoilers #what we do in the shadows season 5 spoilers #mind i'm ALSO feeling bad for nandor #i can care about both of them at the same time #but i don't get how yall can look at memo crying in that elevator #and hear the break in his voice when he say 'well okay then' and how SAD he sounds when he responds to nandor's 'wait what?'#and think he deserves that #or that it's good for him to feel rejected from both of his families

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karmavongrim · 1 year

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Poor Guide to Parenthood fanfic idea

DP x DC crossover fanfic idea which I decided to call "Poor Guide to Parenthood".

Danny and Jazz are distantly related to Oswald Cobblepot, otherwise known as Penguin. In their most desperate hour they go to him seeking sanctuary. Well, who’s he to say no to free PR, even if he didn’t read the memo of accepting the role of a caring father.

Was reading The Family Business and this Tumblr post and was inspired. You can find this on my Deviantart as well.

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

Jazz really deserved this vacation in Danny’s humble opinion. She’s done so much for him and this was the least he and uncle Os could do; an all-payed luxury spa weekend with the girls which included Harley, Ivy and Selina.

What could go wrong? Apparently a lot, nothing related to the girls but to the boys. Who knew that sending away the only person keeping a hyperactive teen with zero self-control on a leash and leaving said boy to the sole care of their mildly diabolical and eccentric adoptive father was a bad idea.

A good chunk of their mansion was missing with some of it’s iced over remnants embedded to the ground around the plot. Danny looked like he’d gotten to a fight with a fridge and Oswald wasn’t looking any better either. A distance away some of the goons could be seen dragging their half frozen brethren away from the site, he’ll have to apologize to them later. It was a miracle that none of the police or even the bats were there to question them about this mess. Really, all their were trying to do was to create a new ice machine for the Iceberg Lounge with the help of his ice core that wouldn’t run out of ice as fast nor would it melt as quickly, it would safe quite a bit of money and time too.

Now, Danny was intelligent but whatever he was smart was another question entirely. He knows how to make a fully operational hoverboard equipped with weapons any day of the week, but drop some cold hard common sense in front of him and it’d be like alien language to him. In summary: an intelligent man knows how to built a bomb, a wise man knows not to go and poke at it. And that wise man was be Jazz who was absent. Danny knew exactly what to do in this scenario.

“We’re not going to tell Jazz about this.”

Oswald, who has been quietly contemplating about his life choices for a while now finally opened his mouth “…We can pin this on Mr. Freeze.” Danny nodded sagely, clad to see they were on the same page on this one. Neither of them wanted to face the disappointed rage of the red head.

“All right, let’s start planting ‘evidence’ before the girls come back and she’ll never know a thing!” Danny said as he clapped his hands, only to stop when they both heard a very distinctive voice they both didn’t want to hear at that moment.

“You so sure about that dear little brother?” Since the jig was up both Danny and Oswald turned around to face the music. Behind very disapproving Jazz stood Harley, Ivy and Selina with various degrees of amusement. She gave the boys a hard glare “Want to try that again?”

The two glanced at each other for something before Danny nervously started “Ummm… How was your weekend ladies?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #oswald cobblepot #jazz fenton #batman penguin #harley quinn #poison ivy #selina kyle #catwoman #poor guide to parenthood fanfic

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itsvaleriesucka · 3 months

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the day of your luck - chapter one

pairing: criminal!joel miller x fem!reader chapter one summary: after your release from dade-county prison, you've implemented some changes into your life. you finally meet your new "friendly" neighbor.

chapter one warnings: language, indications of argument

word count: 4k

a/n: the reader does speak spanish by the way. i provided an english translation in case anyone needs it. to those reading, i hope you all enjoy! (: feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes or warnings i missed out on.

spanish to english translation: ⋆ "Quieres algo más?" → "Do you want something else?" ⋆ "El cheque, por favor." → "The check, please." ⋆ "Quiero pedir algo para llevar." → "I want to order something to go."

prelude ⋆ chapter two ⋆ series masterlist

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

It was a typical sunny day here in Miami. The blazing heat shimmered the pavement, the grandeur of art deco buildings shined by sun rays. The refreshing scent of sand and sun tan lotion combined fills the air as you skate along the sidewalks of South Beach. The cool wind, a gentle breeze coming off the waters blows through your luscious hair as well as causing the palm trees to sway.

Your ears were too occupied to listen to the surrounding of people and cars passing by. A perfect mute from the real world. Your Walkman clipped against the side of your hips while your ears filled with Bill Withers’ Lovely Day.

You held two leashes that wrapped against your wrists, one on your right and the other on your left. They kept up with your quick pace from your favorite pair of quads. And by they— the dogs.

Dog walking.

A side gig you managed to hustle to make some extra cash for your pocket.

What better way to spend some time outside and see the real life around you. Literally. You tend to stick at home in your own solitude the majority of the time binge watching old films, eating Chinese take out, reading Vogue magazines of the latest fashion trends, and keeping track of your CD collections.

It’s been six months since your release from Dade-County prison and you barely know anybody. You’ve always been a lone gal just wandering around on a day to day basis. You weren’t the type to win a popularity contest either. You would prefer to keep a low profile anyways.

After what had happened that led you behind bars, you can’t fathom into trusting anyone. You’ve learned from your mistakes and learning from your mistakes will take you far. At least that’s what you remembered your correctional social worker telling you.

Alright fine.

You only know certain locals. Around three or four but that’s about it.

Ever since your release, you've implemented changes in your life that have made you become a better version of yourself. Sure, you still got some kleptomania urgencies but you learned to walk away. If you want it, just save the money and come back for it. If it’s still there, it was meant to be.

Pushing your left foot backwards, the toe stopper from your skate quads scraps along the pavement, slowing you down until you come to a full complete stop. The dogs got the memo and stood beside you. All you can hear them is pant for breath.

There was an empty bench nearby a shaded area for you to sit and rest for a moment. You removed your backpack and placed it upon your lap to dig inside for your water bottle. You took a couple of sips before pouring the rest near the dog's muzzles.

They’re both Golden Retrievers. Mike and Basil. Brother and sister who are always side by side with each other. Hence why you’re walking them both together because the owner said they cannot walk alone, they refuse to.

That’s very cute. You scratched them both behind their ears and boy, did their tail wagged.

“Are you two hungry?”

Ears perked up with slight head tilts.

“Yeah?” You smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

You began to remove your quads, tying both the shoelaces together into a perfect knot. You reached into your backpack and pulled out your comfortable white chucks and slipped them on. White chucks compliments every single outfit.

You wore nothing but high-waisted blue denim shorts with cute patches that adorned right on your rear. You managed to find the patches during your thrifting adventures. A white cropped tank with your favorite band displayed.

There was a group of male runners heading your way. All of them were shirtless. The lotion smeared on them enhances their robust chests. Their muscular definition was a sight to witness. The moment you got yourself up, you began to tie your shoelaces together. Right foot on the bench while the other foot on the ground. Soon switching.

Your purple plastic hoop earrings swayed against every moment you made. Your skin, sun kissed by the sun itself, radiates with the glow of your sunscreen lotion with a hint of sweat. Each man laid eyes upon you. Upon every exposed skin shown. Upon your thighs down to your legs that goes on forever.

Nothing but flirtatious whistles and sweet nicknames came out from them. Your expression kept stern, you glanced the other way to distract yourself through your Ray-Bans.

Anyone who was anyone could be seen in these iconic pair of sunglasses. You loved them, they were your favorite staple piece you own.

You weren’t going to lie, those men were fine as hell. But it was a major turn off that they only cat called and whistled out to you. If at least one of them came up to tell you how stunning you are, you maybe would’ve given in and tell him your thanks.

Maybe.

Like you’ve remembered, trust issues.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You sat down in a corner Cuban bakery café. One of your favorite places to go and grab a quick bite. Those homemade croquetas and pastelitos were to die for. If this is something you had to eat for the rest of your life, it’s this.

When you were first released from prison, the first thing you had asked your correctional social worker to do was take you to this bakery. Just by being here and eating always brings back a lot of memories from your past.

Mike and Basil drank and ate in their complimentary food and water bowl provided by the lovely staff. You always ate inside but since they aren’t allowed, only outside seating is provided. It’s a gorgeous day so you might as well take advantage and enjoy what’s around you.

While dipping your pastelitos into your coffee, your eyes scanned a couple of advertisements displayed on a newspaper you managed to get on your way over here. Beautiful apartment complexes displayed right before you. You envisioned yourself in a luxury living lifestyle, way up high in those condos, sitting down on your balcony looking out into the seaside view every single morning.

Your mind began to wander off into a setting you aren’t allowed to even think about. Already thinking of ways to obtain easy money to picture yourself amongst the rich. You glanced away and folded the newspaper, sliding it away, releasing a defeated sigh.

Stop. You absolutely cannot go back.

“Quieres algo más?” The kind waitress came by to check up on you.

“El cheque, por favor.”

Growing up as a little girl around the Latin culture and community of Miami, you’ve learned to speak, write, and understand Spanish. I mean, if you’re going to live here, you at least have to understand the basics to get by.

The waitress smiles and picks the empty plates from the table to go get your check.

An idea came across your mind. You suddenly call out to your waitress and she halts before stepping inside.

“Quiero pedir algo para llevar.” You smiled as did your waitress.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You already dropped off the dogs at the time their owner wanted to be back, earning yourself ten bucks. Not bad. Sundays are typically the slowest day since everybody is out having fun on their day off or staying at home to spend some time with family.

Starting tomorrow, things should pick up.

Aside from dog walking, you managed to find a job working for a gentleman who runs the town’s music shop on Lincoln Road. Only Fridays and Saturdays. The pay was surprisingly well.

The apartment complex you lived in wasn’t bad nor one of a kind. It was a place to sleep, eat, and shower. A place where you’re able to destress and listen to your favorite music playing from a small silver boom box you owned. You’re thankful your correctional social worker helped you find a place to stay. Rent was affordable with what you’re able to make weekly so you can’t really complain.

You pulled out a set of keys, one key was to open the main gate of your apartment complex. You can see a few of your neighbors out on their balcony. Some were talking, drinking, or smoking. There was a kid playing ball with another kid on the grass.

Opening the door, you wanted to check your mailbox. You always did on Sunday’s just to see what arrived. The second key was specifically your mailbox door, shared with four others that lived on the same floor as you.

You grabbed each letter and newspaper and searched through each and every one of them to find your name but to no avail.

Although there seems to be a new name that appeared. Looks like there’s a new neighbor. You tossed all the letters and slips back inside the tiny slot and locked the door.

This apartment building only has four floors. The elevator on your right still isn’t working since the same signage has been displayed for over a month now. It depends on your mood, you often take the elevator if you’re out grocery shopping or if you were too lazy to take the stairs to the third floor.

Having the elevator unavailable meant good exercise for you anyways. Your quads hung over your right shoulder, you held them tightly while walking up the steps. You can listen to certain neighbors having a conversation, some in Spanish, some in English. There was a pesky dog on the second floor that always barks whenever he or she seems to hear someone or probably wants to bark just because.

As you reach the third floor you can hear commotion going on, an argument. You hear a familiar voice.

It’s your neighbor, Delaney, who so happens to be caught fighting her boyfriend, as always.

“I didn’t fuckin’ had the dinner ready on time because I was out workin’ all night!” Yep. That’s her alright. Her typical Jersey accent all spiced up. Where she’s from, it’s obvious. She wanted to get away from the cold weather. She was sick and tired of snowy days and having to shovel away ice from her driveway so she moved all the way from New Jersey and landed here in Miami. Nothing but hot and sunny weather all day, everyday.

She worked late nights at a place called Club Pink Pussycat, Miami’s first and finest strip club that offered nudity since day one.

“When I get back, that goddamn casserole better be done! I work my ass off all day and I come home and there’s nothing?!” Her boyfriend stormed out through the door and slammed it shut behind him. He slips a cigarette in between his lips to have a smoke. Your eyes met with his.

“Fuck outta my way.” He grumbled and walked down the stairs past you. He’s lucky to have been gone before you said anything. God. You despised that man.

Delaney opened the door, she’s covered in nothing but her fancy satin pink robe. Her hair was voluminous and styled. Teased and permed to perfection. Her large golden hoops shined with the rest of her jewelry worn. Red lips stained the tipping paper of her cigarette that’s being held in between her index and middle finger. Her pink press on flicks at her cigarette tip, allowing the ashes to fall onto the ground.

Her expression softens from the familiarity of your face the moment her eyes laid upon you.

“Oh, hi sweetie. I’m sorry ‘bout that...” Her voice is soft.

“Why do you let that asshole treat you the way he does?”

It’s true. You always wondered why and there has to be a reason. No man should ever downgrade a woman the way he does, ever. If it were you, he would’ve left a long time ago. In the end, it is not your relationship to get yourself involved like that.

“Oh ya know…he’s the baby daddy of my little boy. It’s hard sometimes.” Delaney pinches the end of her cigarette in between her plump lips to inhale some smoke. Hands gesturing towards you to come inside before she exhaled.

“Come in, come! I’ve baked some sugar cookies. I saved some for you since I thought you might want a bite.”

You stepped inside her place as she shut the door behind you. The layout of her place was the complete opposite of yours. Especially her decor. This woman sure loves the color pink since everything displayed, from her kitchen to her living room, was decorated in pink. She’s like the modern day Barbie.

“Sorry ‘bout the place bein’ a mess. Had to work one of those late nights. My regular surprised me and it was a whole party in there. You should come and visit sometime!” She rubs the tip of her cigarette against an ashtray.

“Sure.” You nodded but only because you were being polite. Those places weren’t your forte anyways. There’s absolutely nothing for you to find in there. It’s a place where sugar daddies come and spend their endless cash by just a shake of your ass. Drugs were the main hot spot. It was a safe haven to do anything illegal, really.

Her baby was in his crib playing with toys. He happily squealed the moment he saw you. Oh, he definitely recognized you. You believed that babies can sense your aura within you. At least that’s what your mother has told you.

Walking over to the crib, you leaned over to tickle the side of his neck and he giggled. Your smile was foolishly wide at his playful gesture. Delaney was busy grabbing her cookie jar and noticed you playing with her son. She smiled.

“He’s such an angel. I love him to pieces!” She waves at her son and made funny faces. He giggles again.

“He is adorable.” You mentioned and leaned away as you walked over to sit in a chair Delaney pulls for you at the kitchen counter.

“You want somethin’ to drink? I got water, Cherry Coke, juice, milk, you name it all.”

“A Cherry Coke sounds perfect, please.”

Milk and cookies are actually the perfect combination. But a Cherry Coke? You can’t refuse an offer like that. You aren’t much of a soda type of gal, but when it comes to Cherry Coke, you simply cannot resist.

“The casserole is almost done if you wanna take some with you.” Delaney hands you a plate of her homemade sugar cookies and a cold can of Cherry Coke.

“That’s real kind of you. I appreciate it.” The click of the can opening surrounds the place. The moment the metal pops, that’s where the sizzling sounds of the bubbles begin to fizz. You didn’t hesitate to take a drink, tilting your head back. The carbonation from the sweet drink coats and burns your throat. Your eyes watered when taking your last sip. A small gasp escaping from you.

So refreshing. So satisfying.

“Have you met the new neighbor yet?” Delaney asks. She’s definitely talking about the name you have seen from a letter when you opened the mailbox not too long ago.

“You know I don’t talk to anyone besides you and the landlord.” You swapped a smile into a smirk, chewing on a cookie.

It’s crazy how you know so much about Delaney yet, she knows very little about you. I mean, she can practically tell her entire life story to strangers. She just loves engaging in conversations to the nicest folks she’d meet. But you? You’re insanely private. She doesn’t even know you’ve been released from prison. She doesn’t know about your past indulgence of robberies.

Thankfully, she has her limits.

“He’s such a handsome fella. Very quiet too. He lives just down at the end of the hallway.”

Such emphasis on the word handsome. That explains much. It’s no wonder you haven’t seen any movement, he’s quiet. You weren’t as phased or excited to learn more about him. You rarely try to meet new people, specifically neighbors. Delaney was the only exception since she’s been the first to actually introduce herself unlike the others.

Ding! “Oh!” Delaney squeals with such excitement. “The casserole is finished. Lemme put that in a paper plate for you before this moron gets here.”

Delaney. She’s such a handful and honestly, you appreciate how real she can be.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You and Delaney exchanged hugs and farewells. You walked down from her door, stopping right in front of yours, using your third key to open the lock and turning the knob to open and enter your own place. Shutting the door behind you, you tossed your keys into a ceramic bowl that’s on a table next to you.

You untied your shoelaces and kicked your white chucks off, setting them right besides the door along with your quads. You removed your backpack and tossed it right on the couch as you walked towards your kitchen holding your plastic plate.

As mentioned, the place is the total opposite of Delaney’s. You tend to stick with a chic yet quaint style. Cool tones were your favorite choice of color palettes, especially purple. Any shade of purple draws your attention.

You placed the casserole and the plastic bag with pastelitos inside your fridge. You wanted to keep it there for later since right now, you needed to take a shower and attend some chores. It’s only half past five so you have plenty of time before the sun disappears completely.

You entered your room, your safe haven. Everything was just the perfect mix of purple. Just the way you like it.

You have a massive CD collection you adored. Some you have stolen and others were given to you by the owner of the music shop you worked for. Hell, you even purchased some from time to time since he gives you a good discount. It’s a win-win for all.

At the corner of your room, besides your dresser, were dirty clothes piled up in the corner of your room, inside a plastic ivory basket.

It’s definitely laundry day and you needed everything to be washed and cleaned for the new week tomorrow.

But first, shower time. It’s what you absolutely need.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Having your comfortable loungewear is possibly the best feeling in the entire world. Your hair was picked up with a vibrant scrunchie. You wore your favorite pair of fuzzy slippers that matched your outfit.

Locking the door behind you, you carried the basket with one hand while the other hand tucked inside your pocket, holding onto your keys and a couple of quarters.

It’s already nine and the night came out and played. If it wasn’t for your dog walking gig, you would’ve just stayed home all day playing your Atari. Just a typical lazy Sunday for you.

The fourth and final key was the door to open the laundry room that was located on the first floor. You take a peek through the window on the door and to your disadvantage, there was already someone inside.

Shit.

He already noticed so you couldn’t turn around and disappear like you wanted to so it’s too late. He paid you no attention as you walked inside.

You gathered your dirty clothes on top of an empty washer machine. You wished there was music playing or something because the awkward silence between you and the man was mad. At least there’s the sound of his dryer starting.

Thank god. He’s just beginning to dry his clothes because that means he was leaving. And he did. He left you all alone.

You usually come around this time to wash and dry your clothes because everybody’s inside their homes all locked up and in bed. Oh, you know the tactics.

You inserted three quarters into the slot tray of the washer machine to then proceed and dump all of your dirty clothes inside. You poured some of the liquid detergent into another slot where it’s supposed to be poured into.

Once you had everything settled, you closed the lid and pushed the tray to dump the quarters into a metal box. There was a green light, ready to be used. You pushed the button and heard the click of the lid and the water starting to pour.

It’s going to be around thirty minutes before everything finishes so you can dry. In the meantime, you start heading back to eat Delaney’s casserole.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Boy, you were stuffed with that casserole. You aren’t one to ever eat casserole but you hoped there’s nothing better than the one you just devoured.

Thirty minutes already passed and it's time for you to head downstairs again to place your damp clothes into the dryer.

As you opened the door to your apartment and shut it right behind you while locking it, you heard footsteps approaching. Your immediate reaction was to turn and look at the source of the sound. You swore if it was Delaney’s boyfriend you were going to have a word with him but no. It wasn’t.

It was the same man from the laundry room. Your eyes instantly looked away from his stare and towards the laundry basket he held his clean clothes in.

Your eyes bounced back and he was still staring at you. Why does he look good in this lighting? It’s just the hallway lights illuminating the passageway. That well put stoic expression deemed his appearance unapproachable.

That unkempt tousled salt and pepper hair definitely gives away his age group. Along with white patches that run down his jawline. You’re probably guessing early fifties. Definitely old enough to be your uncle.

Those denim jeans compliments his physique along with his baby blue polo t-shirt neatly tucked inside all pressed against his chest, holding everything together with a black belt.

You perhaps needed to check your vitals because there’s no way you’re now just thinking about all sorts of compliments to this complete random stranger you’ve never—

Wait a minute. It clicks inside of you.

It’s him.

Your new neighbor.

Standing in front of your door, being a quiet weirdo, isn’t going to make him disappear. You slip your keys inside your pocket with your empty laundry basket in the other hand. You stared down to the ground as you walked. Nothing but sounds of footsteps, keys, and quarters jangle altogether.

Stop.

Be confident.

Your eyes adverts from the ground as you look forward, paying no attention to the stranger. Another thought came rushing in your mind. You softly inhaled and exhaled at the idea.

You can’t always hide and be a grouch all the time. Quoting on what your correctional social worker had explained to you, the past doesn’t define who you are. We are all bound to make mistakes and those mistakes can lead us to the right path.

The moment you passed your new neighbor, you decided to open your mouth.

“Have a goodnight!” You smiled at the stranger.

Biggest fucking mistake you could have possibly made. Your smile flipped itself completely upside, transforming into a frown from the way he ignored you.

His brows furrowed as he took one last look at you and your silly little gesture without saying anything in return. His eyes scan your figure completely unamused. He walked towards the end of the hallway to the door on his left and disappeared.

The moment he disappeared you can hear him slam his door shut. You turned around with brows still trying to pierce together. Oh you were livid. You were livid because you were trying to actually be kind when someone just decides to ignore your entire existence.

You were ashamed of yourself because you’ve always been quiet and for once you decided to open your pretty mouth to actually say something nice.

“Fuck you too then.” You scoffed and looked away, still shocked trying to process exactly what happened. You knew damn well he heard you. If he dared return to the laundry room, you’re more than happy to slam your empty basket right across his stupid face.

What was his stupid name on that letter again?

Joel Miller.

A name that was going to stick with you for the remainder of your night.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller au #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfic #joel miller #the last of us

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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can I request a consider! or a blurb or hc or full on fic of austin looking after p!a during a sub drop 🥺

satisfied and empty inside

summary: austin swears that he'll never let you have a sub drop after hearing your horror stories. he fails this one time. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t? this is tricky because sexual things are described but they don't really have sex. so i suppose high t? pairing: austin butler x priscilla actress reader ( little dove verse ) word count: 2441 warnings: the normal warnings apply for this verse. daddy kink. dom/sub dynamics. choking. brief mentions of past relationships that were not at all pleasant. sub drop. anxiety. negative self talk. author’s note: consider this faintly canon for the main verse? i always make the argument that austin never really ever lets dove experience sub drop but maybe that's only for when it's caused by papi. time frame is post met and cannes but pre press tour. you know that little tiny bit of time between them. beyond that, christ anon i adored this prompt and adored you for giving it to me. i truly hope you enjoy and deeply apologize for the wait. also welcome to my first time in forever and an age since i've written a sub drop.

The first thing you notice, the first thing that you notice when your body slowly drags itself into the land of being awake is that you're cold. There's no reason you should be cold, it's a practically balmy 73 degrees outside and Austin wasn't one to keep the house you two now owned together cold. That would always take some getting used to. The fact that you and Austin after every single ounce of bullshit that you and him put in your way have come out on the other end of things together. Sure, there's still so much you both have to work on with your own therapists and your couple therapist but here you are with your boyfriend, your dom, your- Austin.

Except, you're not here with him in the moment, are you? He's- he should be here in the bed but he's not, he's- where is he? Did he leave you? Were you that bad last night? You had- the scene was fine you thought, everything about last night was fine- almost perfect even but you're waking up alone in bed and Austin- Daddy hasn't been there for long enough for his side of the bed to get cold.

Maybe- no, Austin promised. Austin had said the two of you were fine, that things were going to get- going to be better. It wasn't perhaps the healthiest thing that you two had immediately gone back to being wrapped up in each other, you deciding to move at least temporarily to LA even while keeping your apartment in New York. It was just that being apart from one another after everything, after you had called his phone in the hotel shaking and so needy that you'd have thought his touch was the only thing that could cure you. That was the thing though, Austin knows that you- Austin knows more than anything at least for right now, you need to feel him touching you more often than not. You might not have been touch starved with other people, but you had missed his so much that it was like a missing limb. You had missed him like a missing limb in those hours you weren't busy and he wasn't talking to you because of course, just like Elvis and Priscilla somehow you break up and can't even do a clean break.

It's different now, it's supposed to be different now because you're here and he's here and you're supposed to work things out, make things better between the two of you so that you can build a truly solid relationship. The relationship is supposed to be between you and Austin, not you as Priscilla and him as Elvis or between Priscilla and Elvis. Having a solid relationship means not leaving the person alone when you said you wouldn't without a note or a little text or a voice memo. Austin would leave a message somehow someway but here you are with an empty bed and no note. You roll over, shivering despite your best efforts of curling into the covers as if they'll protect you from the thoughts that are starting to swirl around in your mind like a witch's brew in a pot. There's no missed calls, no missed messages, nothing missed on your phone or on the nightstand near it.

There is just you and a bed with half of it cold. There is just you and no Austin. There is just you and your mind. There is just you and the ghosts of people who are dead or still living but have themselves burrowed into your very psyche.

The crash hits you like the sudden drop of an elevator and you kept help the way a quiet whimper leaves your lips at it. You can feel where Austin's hand was around your neck, clenching and flexing and whispering such filth into your ear. "My good girl, taking my cock so well even when she can't breathe. Think I could leave a mark? Think the paparazzi would ask you what you did to earn that?" You can feel the sting of where his hands had slapped your ass, where he had palmed your ass and squeezed. You can feel the burning trail of his kisses only to be replaced by the cool air against your skin right now. None of those things are happening right now, the person you did them with isn't here right now. You're alone.

You're going to be alone forever aren't you? He's going to break things off with you like you did with him. This is him breaking things off with you like you did to him. Leaving him without a word until you decided to talk. You- He doesn't love you, he loves the you he met on set. He loves you as Priscilla not you and you and only you. He's probably meeting up with Kaia or some other new girl. He won't come back until you've left the bedroom. Or maybe he just wants you to fuck- to let out his dominant side- his daddy side so that whatever girl he's dating doesn't have to take it because they don't want to. Maybe him and Kaia never had broken up. It feels as if your chest has caved in on itself your lungs struggling to bring air into your body as you start to cry. He promised- He said he loved you, why isn't he here with you. Why are you alone again? Why isn't your collar on- nevermind that Austin had taken it off the night before because you had wanted to just feel his bare hand against your neck.

The tears start to fall before you realize what's happening as you curl even tighter into the blankets. The ceiling fan that's circling above you makes the subtle creaking noise it always does and it feels like the loudest thing in the room. A reminder that as much as you want to try with Austin again he has to want to try with you, has to want to be with you. Time passes as you cry, you think, the numbers on the clock by the bed not really registering until you hear your bedroom door open and a cheerful oh you're up before you swear you hear a curse.

It just makes you cry harder and has you sitting up and curling your knees to your chest as best you can as you try and wipe your tears because it hurts and you feel everything right now and you can't shut off your brain and and and-

"Dove?" Austin's voice feels like it's in a tunnel, like he's in the far away place you're certain he's in. After all, his side of the bed was cold when you woke up without him. You register his side of the bed sinking with his weight and his warm hand on your shoulder. Austin always does feel like your own personal furnace. You wonder if he felt that way for the other girls he's been with. "Oh my- my little dove."

Austin is there. Austin is touching you. Austin- Daddy is there. Breathing comes back in a rush and you take one, two, three shaky breaths before you feel Austin's arms wrap around you and you choke out a single word. "Where?"

He's confused for a moment before he realizes that you're asking him where he was. Asking him where he had run off to and left you alone. He doesn't know what time you woke up only that he came into the bedroom ready to wake you up with a kiss and instead found you crying looking as small as you could in the bed. You tense in his arms, still unsure that he's actually there or that you deserve having him around you but you don't shake his arms off, don't force him to stop touching you. "I- I thought I told you, little dove. I had a bunch of early interviews, didn't want to wake you up. I was going to take you out to brunch or lunch when I got done. You- I'm here."

"But you weren't." You hate how it sounds coming out of your mouth, all pectualance and sadness and you sound so much younger than you are when you say it. "You left me alone and it's- it's cold, Austin."

His arms tighten around you as he starts to stroke your back slowly, his lips kissing the crown of your head. "I know- and Daddy's sorry about that, dove. So so sorry about that. I should have written a note for you or sent you a text. I haven't even left the house. I've been in the office." He pauses, exhaling a little shakily. "I'm warm, Y/N, my perfect little dove, my girl- no my woman who puts up with me being an idiot and who's had my heart since our first hello."

Your fingers move to the dove necklace on his neck, it's almost identical to yours, but just subtly different enough that it's uniquely his. You press your own initials into your thumb as you fiddle with it and Austin does the same thing with your necklace around your neck. Neither of you speak for a moment, your tears turning into a sea of shivers before you finally muster up the ability to speak. "I thought- I thought you changed your mind."

About us is what goes unsaid. Because you've been there before, this isn't- he isn't Papi but it feels like it in the moment. Feels as if you're abandoned all over again. Feels as if you're tossed in the trash because you're not useful anymore, you're not the one for him any more and it crushes you. Austin lets out a huff of air and shakes his head.

"I didn't change my mind when you left me in Australia, if I didn't then, I don't think I ever really will." The way he moves to tilt your head up, grabbing your chin lightly and looks at you betrays the fact that he knows you're going to try and argue with him. "Ignoring the girls, dove. Just like I ignore the dates you went on."

A hint of a smile crosses your lips before you frown again, still shivering and trying to burrow into his arms, almost as if you want to become one with him. "Promise? I know I'm being stupid- and you know I'm not-"

"Dove- Y/N- you're not stupid. And I know you're usually so strong and tough and I love that about you but I left you alone and you- you dropped without me here. Because I wasn't here to see what was happening." He pulls you in for a soft kiss. "I promise. You're stuck with me until you get tired of me, because I'm not getting tired of you any time soon."

You still feel drained, still feel like the world has closed in on itself but there's a glimmer of sunshine there, a glimmer of hope your mind is latching onto in an attempt to pull you up from the depths that only brightens as you look at Austin and feel and smell Austin all around you. "Can we take a bath?" You ask softly, knowing the heat of it will help you calm down, will help bring you back up quicker.

Austin hums before nodding. "Can I get you to eat a snack first? I'll order in some food, we'll run a bath and we can just-"

"Yes." You answer, cutting him off before he can finish and looking a little alarmed when you do. "Yeah, I'd- I'll eat something and I don't- I just don't want to be alone. I need you, Au-Daddy."

Austin doesn't say a word for a moment before looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. It's a little mind-boggling to see that look even after everything and your lips finally actually do fully form a smile so touched that you can't do anything but. When he finally speaks nuzzling your hair. "I always give you what you ask for and need, Dove." He moves to get off the bed despite your groan and whimper of protest at the loss of his body heat and his body in general. Once he stands up on the side of the bed he pulls you over and up next to him. "Come on, quick snack and then bath."

It doesn't take you a second to burrow yourself back under his arm as he pulls you close to his chest. In fact, in a fit of what he likes to pretend is genius he maneuvers you to be in front of him and allows himself to just walk with you holding onto him in the front. It's silly and a bit uncomfortable but it works well enough and makes you happy enough that he deals with it. You eat a bagel because it's easiest thing to scarf down in the kitchen before you and him make that same walk back to the bedroom and into the bathroom.

He takes his time as the water runs to take off your nightgown, placing soft kisses at every bit of exposed skin as he reveals them. You're still shivering a bit but sometimes it's from your own emotions while other times it's from the kisses his lips give you. Climbing into the tub after he manages to get in there is a bit of an adventure with how fuzzy your brain feels but you manage, Austin's arm snaking around your waist and pulling you up against his chest. "Starting to feel better?" He asks, his lips caressing your ear in a gesture you can't help but enjoy.

"A little." A simple answer but it's the only one your brain can wrap itself around. You pause and realize that you've stopped shivering. "I'm warm."

Austin's lips curl into a smile that you can feel against your skin. "I don't know, I think you're pretty hot."

That glimmer of hope, that thing your brain started to cling to explodes like a supernova, filling your brain with just enough happiness to make you actually laugh. It's not fixed- you know from experience pulling you out of this state takes a bit longer but it's a start.

His smile widens and he nips at the back of your neck. "There's my little Dove. Love you."

You hum a little happily and drowsily as you lean back and settle yourself against him as he slowly starts to bathe the both of you. "Love you too, Daddy."

#austin butler #austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fanfic #austin butler angst #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #ally writes #god.#i miss writing them.#consistently.

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opinated-user · 3 months

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they did remove LO. that's the story according to Courtney. that they didn't want to deal with LO living under the roof any longer so they paid her to move out and got her a new apartment all on her own. so all the times this "anon" thinks they're being the smartest person in the room asking "why didn't they remove you", they missed the memo that yes, Courtney does say that they did. any "inconsistency" related to that question has been answered already. "why would your parents that you yourself have said many times have denied their abuse over you would deny the abuse that you were commiting against another child" is a valid question now? LO has filled her mouth to the brim saying that her parents would just lie their way through ever aknowledging that she was abused, that they were abusive or that something wrong was going on with LO that needed help. this is consistent with Courtney's version of events in which they also denied the abuse he went through and prefer to do absolutely nothing, keeping up the same toxic and abusive environment that they were all living in before stepping in for the safety of any of their children. "why would they refuse to remove a child when they already removed another and cover up something so awful". same as the previous one. because as the toxic and abusive parents that literally all three of you (Cameron included) agree that you parents were, something i hope we can all agree on anyway, obviously they weren't going to do what was due in order to avoid more toxic situations. if they did, they wouldn't be toxic and abusive parents. if they were capable of doing what was right, maybe you'd have a better chance at life. but you didn't so you didn't get it and now we have this. because toxic and abusive parents do prefer to submit their children to horrible bad conditions for them before ever admitting they did anything wrong about the way they were raised. LO has talked about this being a core thing on her interactions with her father. Courtney only added her mother as being guilty of the same thing. you're both saying the same thing. the only difference is that Courtney is saying it to defend that the two of them went through a less than ideal childhood, while LO is clinging with all her might to the notion that Courtney never went through anything bad at all because she refuses to concede not even that, because in her head only she gets to be the only victim. nobody else has ever suffered anything, it's always just LO.

there, i addressed your "inconsistencies" and it was all thanks to the power of thinking about it for two seconds. now address mine.

#lily orchard

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istadris · 1 year

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I am now craving a Bowser/Mario+King Boo/Luigi long fic with Bowser and Boo as the POV duo protagonists where some background Plot Shit goes down and the Bros get their memories wipes while also getting separated and the first people they find is their nemesis who they now feel they can trust and just. Absolute nonsense of them being terrifyingly efficient minions and the world is now in chaos while their king is now feeling weirdly conflicted about it

*shakes with interest* oh BOY you have no idea how much I LOVE this idea!!

Neither Bro knows exactly why they can trust their respective scary stranger, but they both feel they are "safe" around them, although not for the same reasons. King Boo wants to be the only one to finally destroy Luigi, so he won't let anyone else have this honor, and he wants to make sure Luigi recovers his memory before trapping him in a painting (the expression he would make would be cherished for centuries); Bowser wants the whole Mushroom Kingdom lose faith in their hero, and exploit Mario's strength as much as he can (and a part of him relishes in finally having such a powerful creature on his side)

It doesn't help that both bros are exactly what's missing to both kings to make them near invincible : Bowser is a slow-moving yet strong powerhouse capable of leveling buildings, and a commander of armies; a quick-moving, agile, precise assassin able to assert and neutralise his opponent's weaknesses is exactly what he needs in Mario. King Boo learned his lesson with E.Gadd : while he is a master of spiritual magic and illusions, even him can be defeated by precise technology, and Luigi, for some reason, always had a knack for it, especially when he's not himself. But he also has an affinity for supernatural effects and magic that makes him more similar, and thus more tolerable, to King Boo.

Mario easily conquers fortresses, breaking morale and opening the way to armies; it feels so familiar, so natural,and he doesn't know that where the Toads he's effortlessly dispatching stood, he was doing the same with Koopas not so long ago. It feels natural to take orders from a charismatic royal who's worshipped by their troops, while having free range and trust. He's a war dog you can let go off his leash, because you know he'll come back to his master.

Luigi is at his best in the shadows ; he's still a scaredy cat, losing his memory didn't change that, but once the boos and ghosts get the memo from King Boo to not harass him, he's more at ease with them than with the living, and he's always tinkering, testing, poking and prodding and finding new clever ways to advance King Boo's plans. Boos are not ones for large-scale attacks and loud displays of strength, unless you back them into a corner; they're masters of illusions, trickery, sending their prey into madness before jumping out of the darkness and trap them. It feels familiar to Luigi, both good and bad. King Boo can't help but listen to Luigi's suggestions for traps and illusions, and sometimes they're so messed up he thinks oh, I WILL keep him.

The inevitable clash between the two kings will be very, very interesting.

#super mario bros #booigi #bowsario #miscellaneous mario madness

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lively-potter · 3 months

Text

— trials of athena ; five

— genre ; enemies to lovers, kinda slow burn, friends to lovers

— warnings ; a hella lot of cursing, some typos ( of course 🙄😬 ), mature themes, smut, athena doesn’t like feelings, fluff, smut, angst, some violence, a teeny bit of blood and gore, JK’s a dick fr

— intro, teaser, part one, part two, part three, part four,

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— word count ; 2k

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

chapter five ; “athena and the fortress of trust issues.”

June 2nd, 2023 10:45 AM

Ten fuckin' days had had passed since I met that bumbling shit muffin at the store – and shit had gotten so much worse since then.

For one, that little beech nut next door was cozying up with my family (mainly North) and that shit had been coming to dinner (which I had made sure to miss – and begged Grams and Gramps to let me crash at their place during dinner). Two; my entire family seemed to love that little creamed face loon.

I just don't get why they won't just adopt that fucker; with the rate their relationship is progressing.

A frown came upon my lips.

Okay. I am a little jealous of their attention on him, but still.

He's a complete dick. Why can't they just see that?

I sucked in a sharp breath.

What if he's getting closer to them to take me down?

Shut up, Athena. Not everything is about you, I scolded myself, feeling guilty by being bigheaded.

I sent another text to Sawyer, begging him to come home as I listened to North laugh loudly downstairs and rolled my eyes.

Yes, my enemy is downstairs, if you were wondering. At ten forty five in the morning, no less.

I rolled my eyes, and wondered why my eyes haven't just got stuck back there at this rate. I've been rolling them too much, I really got to stop doing that.

I got up from bed and scurried to my desk, where my laptop was sitting opened. While I confined myself to my room while the rat shit is downstairs, I reckon I should be getting some work done. I cracked my knuckles and pulled my hair back with a clip and got to work.

An hour must have passed, and I was completely stuck in my own world when the doorknob rattled and opened. My eyes never left the laptop screen when a figure stepped past the threshold of my room, figuring it was just Mom or Dad.

But I froze and clenched my teeth when that familiar mocking melodic voice spoke up.

"Hey, princess." he greeted, more than likely holding those delectable lips in a amused smirk.

"Fuck off." I snapped, not in the mood to go and forth bantering with him. I blinked and continued to tap the keys on my laptop – hoping he got the memo and left my fuckin' room.

I never once glanced at him. Honestly, I didn't feel like being hypnotized by his otherworldly beauty.

But that little bitch didn't leave.

I waited (patiently, might I add), for the fucktard to leave, only he didn't. Feeling his glare burning into the side of my face, I huffed loudly and slammed my laptop screen gently closed and snapped my head towards him.

And there he was.

Leaning nonchalantly against my doorframe, JK (as he prefers to be called, but I preferred to call him dickwad) kept his gaze solely on me, and never once wavered. His eyes held a slight glare, warning me to keep mouthing off to him.

I wanted to challenge him just to see what he'd do. Would he put me in my place?

He wore his baggy white cargo pants, held up by another designer belt, and an oversized black shirt with a large white Nike swoosh across the front, and chunky black Prada combat boots. He wore chain bracelets on both of his wrists, chains around his muscular tattooed neck – and as usual, his sexy tattooed hands grappled multiple rings on his long fingers.

Was it nasty to admit I wanted him to grab me by the neck, choke me a little, and leave some marks so I know it wasn't a dream?

My gaze lingered slightly on the dozen roses tattoo on his neck.

Gosh, he was absolute perfection.

But all people had their flaws, and his was his dickish personality.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked through clenched teeth, eyeing him dangerously.

JK smirked at his effect on me and pushed off the door frame and swaggered inside my bedroom.

I watched him, outraged, as he pursed his pierced bottom lip and looked around my girly room, wincing at the amount of pink.

Man, I would spray paint his precious little motorcycle pink and add some bling if only I could...

I smirked at the thought – and side eyed the Nair powder on my nightstand.

I'll have need of you soon, precious.

Patience is a virtue, I said inside my head, eyeing that beautiful hair of this.

It was styled to perfection, his black hair shining in the light when his tattooed hands came up to ruffle the longer strands on top.

Soon, that luscious hair would be no more if I played my cards right, and kept the Nair powder close to me.

"Nah," He shrugged, looking effortlessly handsome as his tattooed fingers grabbed the back of my heavy as fuck reading chair, picked it up and set it across from where I was sitting (with one hand, mind you).

I watched his display of strength with an open mouth. I hated to admit how impressive it was.

If Sawyer were here, I bet that little bitch would have already confessed his undying love for him and perched his tiny ass on JK's muscular solid thigh.

I leaned away from him and crossed my arms across my body. I was only wearing a pair of frilly boy shorts and a matching floral top. It didn't leave much to the imagination when I wasn't wearing a fuckin' bra.

Which I wasn't.

I blushed heavily when JK's eyes flashed to my tits and darkened significantly when he took in the indentations of my nips pressing against the tight fabric.

I cleared my throat when his adam's apple bobbed up and down when he forced his eyes to leave my body.

Wut the fuck...just happened?

"So?" I asked, raising my brows, wondering why he decided to come inside my bedroom and bother me.

JK licked his glossy lips as they pulled up in a smirk.

"No reason. Just came to get you. North and the others wanna talk to you downstairs, princess." He smirked wider, acting like he knew something I didn't.

Even if he did admit it; I probably wouldn't believe him; I got some serious trust issues after Sawyer didn't catch me in a trust fall back in the second grade and i got minor fracture in my skull. That fucking twerp.

My face paled. "Huh?" I squeaked, "Did they find out that I put food coloring in your pool? —"

"What?" He asked, head flying up and shooting me an accusing glare. "Wait, that was you? You put that fucking red dye in my pool?"

Man, he was hotter when he was mad. He looked ready to punish me.

A shiver of fear ran down my spine as his intimidating presence multiplied.

"No, dickweed." I scoffed, lying outta my ass, "Your old age must be getting to you – hearing things already." I giggled nervously before stopping in my tracks.

What.

Did I really just giggle?

Me; Athena Jayden Green just giggle?

I've never 'giggled' in my entire fuckin' life.

Well, I did'nt until this fucker came into my life.

Sweet baby Jesus in a comfy manger, just what was this man turning me into?

JK towered over me with a glare and clenched his hands like he wanted to reach over and choke the life out of me (which, knowing my fascination with his sexy hands, I would let him). He licked his lips slowly and backed away.

"I'm only four years older than your little ass." He spoke, a smirk dancing on his lips when I glared up at him for calling my ass little. I wanted to bend over in front of him to prove that my ass, in fact, was not little. "Now get downstairs, princess. I gotta get back home to Bam." JK said.

His dark beautiful doe eyes followed my form as I stood up with an eyeroll and left my bedroom. Hearing his heavy footfalls behind me, I trotted downstairs and entered the kitchen without a further word to JK.

He shot a cheeky wink in my direction and shouted his goodbyes before turning to me.

"I'll be seeing you soon, princess."

There it was again. A hidden message underneath his words.

What in the ever-loving earth was going on?

I also hated to admit his little nickname was growing on me.

Mom and the rest of my family, who had watched our exchange with hidden smirks, gestured for me to enter the dining room, where they were all waiting for me.

I swallowed nervously, wondering what this was all about, and settled into my own assigned chair and bit my lip nervously.

"What's going on? Wait—" I panicked, "Did I do something?" My anxiety was taking hold as Mom snickered into her palm.

"No, baby." North laughed, his burly body shaking as he chuckled. "We just need to go over a couple things before we leave."

Oh, right. I almost forgot about them leaving for Europe in two days.

I gnawed on my bottom lip and nervously nodded.

"Okay. What's up?"

Mom and Papa exchanged looks.

Papa took in a deep breath and pushed his glasses up his nose with a single finger.

"Now, Athena. We have been discussing leaving you alone for so long...and JK so graciously offered to house you while we're gone."

Huh?

Say what now?

"I beg your pardon?" with my brows near to my hairline, I coughed loudly to get past the lump growing in my throat. "You refused, right? I'm an adult, Papa. I can take care of myself."

And I can make my own fucking decisions. I get that they're worried, but I'd have to get used to staying alone, right?

Mom exchanged a look with Papa, "We agreed."

"Without consulting me first, Mom?" I squawked, "I'll say this again – I'm nineteen years old. I'm capable of staying by myself."

"But with the recent robberies happening around the area, Uncle and Dr. Roberts don't have enough people to spare to watch over the house." Papa explained patiently eyeing me sternly, "JK mainly works from home and graciously offered to watch over you while we're gone."

He may murder me while you're gone.

I sighed and banged my head on the table.

"You have to be kidding me."

"Sadly, we're not." Luke said, cheerful eyes dimming, "We just worry, peaches."

I stared at him and felt my resolve crumbling.

I hated making them worry so much. But staying with JK? That's like asking Klaus and his dead beat dickface of a stepdad, Mikael to stay in a two story home together. It would only cause chaos and disaster.

"But what about Grams and Gramps? Can't I stay with them or the Toma Team?" I asked, desperate to find a loophole.

Silas shook his head slowly, "Your Grams and Gramps had a couple things come up and they left early for New York this morning."

"—and the Toma Team is working with Dr Roberts to find a pattern with the robberies, so they're busy. Plus Raven and Sawyer are still in Russia on holiday." Victor chimed in, running his gentle hand over my head.

My shoulders slumped.

Fuck my life.

For real.

Everything is so fucked.

I'm going to be surrounded by a man who arouses feelings I've never felt before. And he was a dick, with a scary dog, and I was going to have to live with him. LIVE WITH HIM. How would I survive this?

...Wait. That was why that beaver nugget was smirking.

I clenched my teeth and made myself stay still, when all I wanted was to march next door and fuckin' strangle that handsome bastard.

Fuck him.

"Fine." It's not like I had a choice.

A/N

hiiiiiii... thanks for reading. love u ♡ question; what are you most excited about that you think will happen in this story?

#jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook x oc #bts jungkook #wattpad #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungguk #jungkook x original character #jungkook au #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers

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sheena-is-a-punk-rocker · 5 months

Text

Rick and Harley only have eyes for each other, but unfortunately not everyone got the memo

Prompt was jealous quinnflag, sent in by @skyromaniac-05 and I 1000% used it as an excuse to write smutty quinnflag, because I missed it. This one is definitely getting shadowbanned (unless this hellsite surprises me) so I'ma post the link in a separate post so y'all can find it.

Rick’s minding his business on a couch at the former Black Mask club—sipping a beer and watching Harley having the time of her life on the dancefloor—when he’s approached by a random woman. She’s younger, blonde, and holding a glass of red wine. He ignores her at first when she plops down right next to him. She leans close and says, “Hey, I’ve never seen you here before.”

He snorts but doesn’t answer. He and Harley are actually here every Friday since it’s her favorite spot for dancing.

Instead of taking a hint, the lady doubles down on her efforts to engage him in conversation. “Oooh, I like your tattoos,” she comments—tracing her finger around the outline of the one on his right bicep.

He’s trying to think of the most polite way to tell her to back the fuck off and to stop touching him when he sees Harley stalking towards him—a scowl on her face that’s aimed at the woman who’s been trying to talk to him.

He internally breathes out a sigh of relief. Before he can greet her, she’s draping herself over his lap—crashing her lips into his.

He kisses back automatically—one hand going to her thigh and the other to the back of her neck to pull her closer. He vaguely registers whatshername (she may have told him her name, he wasn’t paying attention) storming off in a huff. He’s too busy to really give a shit.

They’re both breathing hard when they come up for air. “What was all that for?” he asks, once his brain is functioning again.

“She was all over you,” Harley pouts.

Oh. Oh! That… explained a lot.

He chuckles and slides his hand further up her thigh under her dress. He rasps in her ear, “Aww, Harls, you know you’re the only one I have eyes for, right?”

She bites her lip and nods. He grins and tells her, “Meet me behind the building in five minutes, darlin’.”

He watches her stand up and stumble towards the door on shaky legs. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

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

Harley waits outside the club for what feels like an hour but is probably only a few minutes. She’s so horny she could cry and Rick’s taking his sweet ass time.

When he finally appears, she pounces on him immediately—legs going around his waist and lips crashing into his. She feels the rough brick wall on her back as he attacks her neck with nips and kisses—marking his territory.

“Fuck me!” she gasps.

He slides his hand up her inner thigh to her panties—which are soaked through. “Someone’s eager, huh?” he teases.

Oh god, she’s gonna bite his head off if he doesn’t fucking touch her already!

She’s cut off mid-thought when his fingers slip underneath her panties and drag through her wet heat up to her clit.

She moans loudly and encourages him to keep going. She’s so wound up that she comes embarrassingly fast on his fingers—but he’s not done with her.

She can feel his hands between their bodies as he fumbles with his belt buckle, and bites his neck—hard—to muffle her scream as he slams into her.

By the time they’re done, he’s as marked up as she is.

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

She’s giggling as they slip back inside the club. Rick’s hair is a post-fuck mess and she’s sure hers isn’t much better. She can’t help but smile smugly when she sees the bitch who was flirting with him earlier—scowling at the two of them while she sips her wine.

She makes a detour to the bathroom so she can straighten out her hair and has to bite her lip to suppress a moan when she sees just how marked up she is. God, she loves this man.

After reapplying her lipstick and putting her hair back up she heads over to the bar for another drink. She’s waiting for the bartender to notice her when she feels a hand grope her ass and a sleazy voice in her ear saying, “Hey baby, lemme buy you a drink.”

She tenses and grabs the hand that’s touching her. “I just want ya to know that my boyfriend is gonna kick your fuckin’ ass if you don’t back the fuck off.”

“She’s right, you know,” she hears, before Rick is shoving the guy away from her and then grabbing him by the collar.

Despite how dark it is in the club, she can see the guy’s face drain of color as he stammers out a half-assed apology.

Rick lets him go but watches him like a hawk until he sees him leave the club completely.

“You okay, Harls?”

“Yes and that was the second hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she says as she yanks him down by the collar of his shirt. “Take me home, right the fuck now, Colonel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds with a smirk. “But first we gotta close out our tab.”

Harley shrieks in frustration and Rick laughs, pulling her close and caressing her hip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear.

They manage to make it back to their apartment building in record time.

But they don’t make it out of the truck.

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minnieves · 1 year

Note

hello!Could you make a english translation to the recent hyuka fic?I know you just published it,so please take your time<3

hello... haha. hope you guys missed me :))

Filo ver.

warnings: hints of virginity loss, vanilla, and unprotected sex. this is just soft for both parties, they're just in love.

summary: honeymoon with hyuka. both vowed intimacy after marriage. they say that the more you suppress one's feelings the more you can't keep them at bay.

"hi," you called to hyuka when you noticed him sitting by the balcony. you walk towards him. pulling the robe that you're wearing around yourself. you sat beside him. resting your head on his shoulder. snuggling closer to him as you feel the cold. "are you tired, love?"

"a little," he said. placing a soft kiss on your forehead. One hand wrapping around your waist. he couldn't help but scan your outfit. seeing how the nightgown that you're wearing is a little more revealing. your robe helping to hide nothing at all. "on second thought, I'm still euphoric from the wedding. I might need to waste it off."

"hyuka." you said almost whiningly at his remark. playfully hitting his shoulder from it. you feel shy despite him, now being officially yours. you've had a few intimate moments with each other. though they may not lead to sex, this feels different. "do you like it?"

"hmm, i do," he said. his choice of words makes you smile. he raised your chis towards his direction. slowly approaching your lips with him. his kisses made you feel just how much he craves and yearns for you. after all, some people have carnal desires that they have suppressed for so long. "you're so beautiful."

you smile at his compliments. you lean towards him more. allowing him to move his hands further upwards. softly grasping the flesh of your breast. squeezing them experimentally like he wants you to say something. as if he expected you to push him away.

"are you okay?" he asked you when you didn't say anything. lowering his hand. not wanting to push you over because of what he wants. choosing to hold you by the waist while he holds your face with his other hand. "do you want to rest first?"

“no, i want more,” you whispered. holding his hand, which was on your cheek. bringing your lips to kiss his palm. you looked back up. giving him another kiss on the lips. hoping that he'd get the memo for the words you can't say. "can we go in? now, please?"

“tell me if it’s too much,” he reminds you. his body now on top of yours. you lie under him, observing how this man has loved you for so long, yet his love does not seem to falter. feeling how he kisses your exposed skin. your robe is long forgotten somewhere. "answer me."

“okay,” you said. he pulled your nightgown's straps off. letting the cold air hit your nipples. making you gasp from it. this was followed by a soft sigh when hyuka placed one in his mouth. the heat from his mouth feels so relieving from how cold the night was. "kai," you called him.

“don’t keep your voice down,” he said. you closed your eyes shut. not wanting to see how he was looking at you. you felt his hand crawling up to your thighs. you open your legs to welcome him. making him laugh at your action. “no need to rush. are you attending another honeymoon?”

"i waited for too long," you excused your action. he didn't answer you, but you felt his kiss on your cheek. his fingers are now inside your panties. two of them playing with your clit. slow and shy movements. “don’t be shy,” you teased him.

“oh love, don’t talk too much. you needed to reserve your voice for something else," he said. his laugh echoing your room. you help him get your nightgown off, watching how he threw it somewhere. This was followed by your underwear. making you subconsciously close your thighs shut. “don’t be shy,” he teased you back.

you gasped when you feel him spread your lower lips apart. you parted your legs wider, allowing him to lower his face towards your cunt. he gave you a flat lick, his gaze not breaking from you. making you gulp from holding his eye contact.

"y/n, you taste so good," he told you. wrapping his mouth around your clit to gently suck on them. his finger prodding your entrance. he observed your reaction before easing one finger in. the action making you moan. his fingers were long and thick compared to yours. making you clench around him on instinct.

“relax y/n,” he reminds you. easing another finger inside you. he was pleased with how your body was willingly accepting him. making his heart skip beats from how pleased he is. “breathe my love.”

you followed his instruction. making you hold his hand while he scissors you open. this was then followed by wave-like motions from his fingers. you knew he was prepping you. you don't know whether to feel thankful or annoyed with how much it makes you want him more. making you move your hips with his actions.

“hyuka!” you moaned when you feel another inside you. his mouth on your clit making you reach your orgasm much faster. the pain was brought down faster with that. after all, you knew how fast your body was loosening up to accommodate the one love for so long. “hyuka, i’m gonna cum.”

“let go y/n,” you told him. cuming after with your legs shaking from it. hyuka helped you ride it out by sucking on your clit. still, the pleasure couldn't stop you from sobbing because of it. "how does that feel?"

"felt good," you told him. your words coming out raspy to him. he pulled out from inside you. standing by the bed to undress. your gaze moving down his body. he went back on top of you. allowing you to reach his neck to pull him for another kiss. need you inside me please?”

“hmm?” he sounded, wanting you to repeat yourself. the tip of his nose tracing imaginary lines on your neck. making you even needier from the delay. “you want me where?”

“inside me, hyuka please,” you asked him. his face in between your hands. pulling him lower once more to kiss him. more fervently than you previously did. wanting to relay how needy you were for him. "please, I need you inside me."

he peppers your neck with kisses. his hand guiding his cock in between your slit. lubricating them from how wet you are for him. he hand let go of his cock. moving upwards to gather some more of your wetness. spreading them around his cock.

he pumped it a few times. using his hand to guide his tip inside you. he quickly gave you a deeper kiss. wanting to not hear how you sounded like you are in pain because of him. his other hand fondling your breast harder to put your attention there too,

“just a little more,” he whispered between kisses. the pain from both pleasure and pain is barely noticeable. “tell me if it’s too much.”

he thrusts inside you slower and deeper. his slow thrusts making you feel him entirely. you've seen his size. it was maybe due to your position that made him much bigger than you anticipate.

when he felt like you were getting used to him. he slowly incorporate speed into his thrusts. slowly picking pace to not overstimulate you. he was sitting up. both hands pushing your thighs wider. his view of you making him smile.

"god what is this beauty?" he whispers to himself. your eyes were shot with your mouths parted to moan his name. making him want to spread you wider, so he did. the new position making you feel him much more.

“hyuka!” you moaned louder. the new position allowing him to slide all of him with ease. he feels bigger and rougher in this position. making you open your eyes to watch him disappear inside you. "of fuck."

“i’m going to cum,” you moaned. he let one of your thighs go. bending towards you as he slides his hand under your neck. pulling you up so that he could kiss you harder. his sudden roughness making you moan.

“cum,” he whispers to your ear. his hand holding the other side of your face. he buries his face in your neck. making you hear his low moan there. his thrust becoming much shallower as you clench around him. helping both of you ride your highs.

he slowly pulled his cock from inside you. gathering some strength to walk and clean the both of you up.

“you okay?” he asked you. now cuddling you from behind. leaving soft kisses on your nape.

“better than okay,” you answered back. smiling despite knowing that he couldn't see you.

“good, you’ll get used to it," he told you. you couldn't control your smile from getting any bigger. excited to what more hyuka has to offer.

#txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt suggestive #txt scenarios #txt imagines #hueningkai smut #huening kai smut

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lavenoon · 1 year

Text

Worst case scenario, angst ramble, ~1.4K words

CW: Major Character Death (:

Their line of work isn’t the safest, and given the scares Y/N gave their boy(s) you might think they’d be the first to slip.

But what if, one day, it’s Dusk who doesn’t make it home from a mission? Pre-reveal, and Robin was busy with their own, one of those rare cases where they didn’t make a point out of showing up at each other’s mission. Maybe a busy time at the agency, and they get a reprimand not to double-staff missions for a while - in any case, he’s alone, and Robin only hears about the incident too late. Nothing salvageable, broken beyond repair - their rival, dead.

They keep it together (i.e. they dissociate and thus don’t break down crying) long enough to make it home. But there they really, really can't stand being alone - it's breaching what they have, of course, overstepping lines they were so mindful of before, but Y/N just craves that comfort and just. Knock on Sun's door.

No response.

They knock again, even try the bell.

No response.

They're already crying then, just barely not making a scene in the early hours of the morning, barely make it behind their own door where they collapse and weep. The guilt, the loss, and all of that they don't even know how to process - they never had to, before. Dusk was the first person they cared about like that in their line of work, and they never thought he'd die.

And, of course, they never catch a break - because HQ is about as sensitive as sandpaper as a towel. When an agent dies on the job, it's their job to clean up any loose threads in that agent's civilian life, including their living situation, if necessary.

In this case, they deem it acceptable to posthumously reveal Dusk's (and Dawn's) identities, and tell their uniquely involved landlord to pack up their belongings.

The memo takes a bit to process.

The neighbors in surrounding houses may assume there's a wraith living in their duplex, that day, because the wailing won't stop.

They stay home, that night, without even calling out. They forget almost everything - food, water, work, why would any of that be a priority when they lost everyone they care about?

And they barely accepted that. Barely started admitting it to themself, and it's too late. They'll never get to tell Sun and Moon - they're gone. They'll never get to tell the boys, never get to actually know them both, so many opportunities missed that they now see, and the future just seems so bleak without them.

They try going over the next morning, but have to break down and cry just past the front door, again. They've never been in their home before, and they never wanted it to be like this. Looking at all the evidence of their boys' existence - a dark blue shirt, thrown over the back of the couch, definitely not Sun's but surrounded by all the craft projects strewn around.

Upstairs is the worst. They cry until their eyes are swollen and their cheeks are a blotted mess, their voice so gone by then they don't know if they'll ever speak again. They know their rival's outfits and they know that his sneakers and nightcap will never make it back, so they cling to the few items they can cling to and weep. The workshop isn't easier, when they spot a harmless decorative DIY project right next to the pushed aside equipment for work gadgets, and that clicks into place, too.

In the end, they have to give up. They can't do it. They crawl back into their home, and hide out, hoping it's all just a bad dream they'll wake up from any minute now, even as a small part of them knows that's denial speaking and it won't help them in the long run.

Their duplex is on its best way to become a home of ghosts. One empty shell of a person going through the motions, and the other half waiting for the return of its two tenants that will never cross that threshold again.

But then there's Eclipse.

Y/N may have missed the "When can the surviving family come by to pick up the belongings left behind?" memo, but Eclipse refuses to just wait. It takes a few days - him processing the initial shock takes some time, he can't drive, and any car ride isn't really an option for him, just a tad too uncomfortable to fold himself into a car like that for hours. If not for the risk of running out of charge he would've just walked, but as it is, he's forced to arrange a train ride. Doesn't have to wait for HQ to release Y/N's address - he knows where his brothers lived.

So just a few days after everything, there's a knock on Y/N's door, and they scramble to open it - the hope is delusional, but they don't care. And they do know the face greeting them, if not the person it's attached to.

Eclipse may be smiling for the world to see, but Y/N spent months at this point carefully watching Dusk's and Sun's expression, they know there's more to it. They're just reeling from the hard crash with reality that of course it's not their boys.

And Eclipse... He was so ready to just be angry at being shut out, that he had to wait any time at all to come here, that he wasn't there for his brothers, and that Y/N dared to just not give HQ the okay to bring him in.

But the human in front of him looks dead on their feet, and about one second away from breaking down again. He knows a bit about this landlord - Sun mentioned them before.

HQ did not care to share the information that the landlord is an agent, too.

When they don't say anything, he manages in as neutral of a tone as he can muster that he's there for his brothers' stuff. Y/N confirms - "of course", and just with two little words their voice breaks and their lip starts quivering again. The loss hits them again, because not only won't they ever hear their voices again or see them grin again or hear any of their thoughts again, and not only are two whole people gone, all their memories and thoughts, all the things they shared. But now they won't even get to keep what is still there, and then they feel so selfish because of course their brother mourns them, too.

Without really asking, they tag along after unlocking the door for him, still so deep in denial that nothing feels real when their place still looks so lived in.

Desperate for a distraction, they ask his name, and he answers, if a little harshly.

"Eclipse. Or Horizon. I don't actually know which one I'm supposed to use, just pick either."

They give their name, too, and with a chuckle that neither of them believes in, add "Or Robin. You can pick, too."

And Eclipse freezes for a second before whipping around to them, immediately making the connection, because Moon also had a little human he liked talking about.

"You were -"

Whatever accusation they expect, they don't want to hear, and interrupt him immediately.

"I'm sorry. I should have been there. I should've - should've -"

Hugging their arms close isn't enough, not really. They tremble, and sink to their knees, not even sure what they could have done but so stuck in this mindset that they could've changed things, because it has to be their fault, there's no way something like this would just happen.

"You knew them."

They shake their head, insist that no, they didn't even know that Sun was an agent, too, they were stupid and never realized, and maybe if they had, things would have gone differently -

"No, you knew them."

The strange, tense static crackle in his voice makes them stop their frustrated ramble, and they look up. He's sitting just a few feet away, eyes locked onto them, but his pupils are fuzzy around the edges and flickering as he struggles, too.

And they don't know each other, never got to the point where Sun and Moon would have introduced them, but they're the closest to the boys either of them has, and they both just crave that connection so badly.

They don't know each other, but they hold each other, both shaking and crying in any way available to them as they mourn the people they loved the most.

#post let luce #fnaf sb #fnaf sb au #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf eclipse #accidentally undercover #cw death #NOT CANON WILL NEVER BE CANON I CRIED SO MUCH WRITING THIS I WILL NEVER TOUCH DEATH AGAIN #probably. give it at least a week and i might reconsider for angst reasons but oh my god #I just crave comfort I hate when comfort isn't an option #so you still get the *hint* of comfort but not enough. not enough.#*holds my boys* im so sorry i will never do that again #proofread this actually but the tears make it hard FGDHSJ there might still be mistakes #I cry very very easily and it's karma for inflicting this on you

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