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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months

Text

Across Every Universe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff

Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.

Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.

That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.

He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.

Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.

“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.

“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”

“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”

“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”

“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.

“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”

“My hero.”

You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.

He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.

“So, did you tell her how you feel?”

“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”

“Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”

Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.

The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing alright but not any better.”

“Did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, I did.” He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”

“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.

Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.

“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.

“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”

Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”

“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”

“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”

“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.

He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.

“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!”

“Y/N?”

“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.

They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.

“She kissed me, dude.”

“What?”

“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”

Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”

Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.

Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.

“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”

“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”

“How?” he whispers.

You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.

You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.

Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.

“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we just lay here instead?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”

You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.

“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”

Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.

“We’re married?”

“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… really happy.”

You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean sighs.

“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”

“What if we didn’t leave?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The love of my life is my wife here.”

“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”

Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”

“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”

And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.

The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.

“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”

“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.

“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.

This is where he belongs. Right next to you.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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teyamsatan · 9 months

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^^^ this right here??? made me slide up a wall in need. now imagine dilf!jake, cause that's all i can imagine. enjoy x

wc: 660 words

smut under the cut, minors DNI 🔞

You loved days with Jake, you really did. He was a good leader - strong and fearless, compassionate and patient, he made everyone feel secure and at ease, made everyone feel included and heard. You loved training with him, hearing him talk, watching him listen. You loved his demeanour and his wit, and how he sacrificed so much and lost a planet and a bond to his own kind in order to protect yours. He was a good mate - considerate and thoughtful, funny and giving, he made it his life purpose to make you happy, and you appreciated him every single minute of your life.

You loved days with Jake… but nights… Eywa, the nights were the best, and you had a perfect example as of why right now, laying sideways on the bed, your head pushed so far back, it was resting in the crook of his neck, drawn out moans and skin slapping together the only sounds you could hear in the quiet of the dead of night. You haven't slept through the night once since meeting Jake. How could you, when more often than not, after a thorough fucking, he loved to fall asleep with his cock still buried deep inside of you, loved for the feel of your tight cunt and smell of your scents mingled together to be the last thing on his mind before he passed out for the night... or at least for a few hours, until you inevitably woke up, needy and desperate once more, grinding on his half-hard length until he was rock hard once more, his body unable to resist you, even asleep as he was.

Now, here you were once more, three orgasms in, crying as he slipped in and out of you with ease, your cum and slick allowing him to bottom out in you, bulging up the skin of your lower abdomen. He loved to sneak his hand from your hip, where it was rested in order to pull you further down his length, and reach around and press on the spot, until you squirmed and whined, until the tears flowed freely down your face into your ears.

"You feel how deep in you I am, angel? That's daddy's cock pushing your pretty skin up, mm? You're taking it so well, aren't you? Always so good for me."

"D-daddy... pl-please!"

His words pushed you closer and closer to the orgasm you knew would take you out for the night, the intensity of the last couple of hours taking a toll on your mind, until you were just a mess of words and incoherent babbles, drunk of his cock and the soft kisses he was peppering on the back of your neck. You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

"What do you need, baby? Need daddy to let you come on his cock?"

His thrusts sharpened momentarily as he was hitting the spot that made you see stars and cry out in unadulterated ecstasy, until you were sure the whole clan could hear how well the Olo'eyktan's mate was getting fucked night after night. Right now, you couldn't find it in you to care.

"There you go, baby girl. Come for daddy so he can fill you up, mm?"

The promise of being marked by him, of his cum dripping out of you and down your thighs for days to come was enough to push you over the edge, and you came, making a mess of the mat, that needed to be changed daily anyhow, as you squirted all over him, gushes of warm liquid mixing with his own, and, spent and filled to the brim as you were, you allowed him to pull you closer and whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

"Daddy loves you, sweet girl."

You knew, and yet, you couldn't wait until tomorrow night, when he'd more than willingly prove it to you again.

somebody sedate me honestly

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moonstruckme · 5 months

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Hi lovely!!! As I mentioned earlier, I apologize again do sending so many asks, I'm sick and stuck at home rn, so my brain has been working on overtime, so if I have an idea and think u might like it, I am sending them lol.

I wanted to know if u could write spencer x bau!reader, where reader is a technical analyst with Penelope for the team. But the last case was a pretty big one and she ended up sacrificing her sleep and needs to Penelope and everyone else could rest? So now that the case is over shes beng kinda stubborn and doesn't really wanna adress it, nor rest till she finishes the few remaining things?

Like always, you don't gotta write anything I request!!! I hope you've had a good week so far and get plenty of rest lol <333

Sincerely, :]

Hi sweetheart! No worries, send as many as you like! I'm just answering them at my own pace :)

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 876 words

“Hello my favorite genius.” Penelope snags Spencer by his sleeve just as he’s about to step into the elevator, using his momentum to swing him around and start him back the other direction. “I need you to get your ladylove out of my office—” she winces. “Our office. Sorry. Old habits, they do die hard.”

“She’s still here?” Spencer asks, having learned long ago how to bulldoze through the fluff of conversations with Garcia. “I thought she’d be home already.”

“Oh, no,” she says gravely, voice dropping to a whisper as they near the tech room. “I don’t think she’s been there in days. You cannot say anything, but she’s starting to smell.”

Spencer prepares himself for the worst as the door opens, but all he finds is you, cute if a little bedraggled, hunched over your keyboard.

“Hi,” he says tentatively when your glassed-over eyes don’t leave the screen. Your face is awash in blue light, blank but for the determined pinch of your mouth as you work. “Ready to go home?”

“You can’t kick me out,” you say. Spencer blinks in surprise and a bit of hurt at your blunt tone before he realizes you aren’t speaking to him. “You can’t make him kick me out, either. I just have a few things left to do.”

“Very admirable work ethic,” Penelope shoots back, her own voice chipper with a steel edge, “but you’ve done plenty. We can finish this tomorrow.”

You don’t stop typing even for a second. “Go home, Pen.”

She gives Spencer an emphatic, helpless look behind your back, and he nods, signaling for her to go. She backs out of the room with her hands held up in front of her like she’ll need to ward you off, grabbing her bag and shutting the door behind her.

“Hey.” Freed from the last constraints of professionalism, Spencer slips into his most honeyed tone. “Let’s get out of here, sweetheart. I’ve got a bed and a fridge full of almost-bad takeout waiting for us at home.”

“Just a couple of things left to do,” you mutter, but your tone is considerably less hard than it had been with Penelope.

“There will always be things left to do.” He walks up behind your chair, setting his hands on your shoulders and his chin on your head. You smell a bit stale, a sure tell you’ve been too long in this room, but nothing so bad as Penelope had warned him about. Just day-old you. “I may not know the full scope of things, but I know you’ve been working really hard on this case. You deserve some rest. You need some rest,” he amends. “Let me drive you home.”

Something like longing flickers across your expression, but then it hardens back into resolve. “Thanks, Spence, but I can drive myself once I’m done.”

Spencer decides to switch tactics. Oftentimes, the best way to get you to accept help is to let you think you’re actually helping someone else. He straightens and takes a couple of quick steps back from your desk with your chair in hand, rolling you with him.

“Hey!” you reach for your keyboard, but Spencer’s already swiveling your seat, turning you to face him.

He sets his hands on the armrests. “Sweetheart, I just got off a four hour flight after a three day case. I’d really like to go home, but I’m not leaving here without you.” The divot between your eyebrows takes on a new character, frustration softening into sympathy. “And you haven’t even let me say a real hello.”

A spark of happiness lights your eyes a second before they fall closed, face tipping up in eager anticipation as Spencer dips down to kiss you. It’s soft and lingering, and you rub your lips together self-consciously after it’s over, realizing how chapped they are. Spencer wonders when the last time you drank water was.

“Sorry,” you say softly. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

“You’re not,” he reassures you quickly, wanting you pliant but not guilty. “I mean, I don’t mind. Of course I don’t mind waiting for you. But are you ready to go now?”

You cast a hesitant, skeptical look back at your computer, but Spencer smooths his thumb over the inside of your wrist, and you relent. “Yeah, okay. I just have to come back early tomorrow to finish up.”

Spencer hums noncommittally. He was already planning on disabling your alarms after you’re asleep tonight. You need rest more than the higher-ups need your reports. You stand, grabbing your bag from under your desk and letting him shepherd you towards the door.

“Do you think we could order some new takeout?” you ask him.

“Good idea,” he agrees, somewhat relieved. “The stuff in the fridge has chicken in it, I don’t trust that.”

Your laugh is somewhat lighter than usual, exhaustion setting in now that you’re out of your cave, but Spencer relishes the sound regardless. “Yeah, me neither. Pizza?”

“Pizza,” he confirms.

You make it all the way downstairs before your eyes flare and you spin around. “Shit, I think I left the light—”

“Nope.” Spencer takes you by the shoulders, steering you towards his car. “Someone else will take care of it.”

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bby-deerling · 5 months

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behind the sea (zoro x reader nsfw)

saccharine sweet loving sex with zoro :)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 2.4k masterlist

cw: afab!fem!reader piv, oral (reader receiving), virgin!zoro, established relationship, soft soft soft zoro, part of my lil zoro x reader universe (but can be read standalone), strawhat!artist!reader (this is only relevant for like one line)

tagging: @zoros-ball-sweat, @sleepymarimo

The moon hangs high in the sky, softly guiding the ripple of the tides and the drifting of the stars. The sea is calm tonight; the air is still, and the gentle rocking of the ship is comforting and soothing. Serenity was far from an unfamiliar feeling to Zoro—he felt it when he meditated, or when completely focused and in his element, but nothing compared to the peace he felt on quiet nights like these as he holds you close as he keeps watch in the Observation Tower, with you fast asleep between his legs, back leaning against his chest.

Natural—the connection between you two was so raw, natural, and understanding. Falling in love with you was effortless; little gestures of kindness had slowly developed into fondness, and then something deeper still. Attentive and accommodating to each other’s needs, the slow, easy pace of your connection was refreshing and welcome to both of you, who were craving something simple but profound, untroubled but immeasurable, and above all, tranquil and easy, with love expressed quietly in a spattering of unspoken actions.

Blooms of growth in your relationship occurred when silent admiration failed to convey the level of sentiment you carried for each other. Brushing his thumb across your cheek one night in the Crow’s Nest of the Merry, he had decided the look in his eyes wouldn’t suffice to show you how much he cared, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. Passion and hunger had overcome you on another night, lips and tongues locked in a messy kiss in an alley behind a bar, and you had dropped to your knees, staring up at him with starry, love-struck eyes. Construction of the Sunny brought lazy midday make-out sessions on the couch in your studio that eventually led to him sliding down your torso to taste you; his tongue was initially sloppy and erratic, but you guided him gently with soft directions and fingers threaded through his hair until the cook had banged on the door to inform you lunch was ready. The intimacy you share is sacred and special, and something he was endlessly grateful for, but tonight, as he watches the way the moonlight scatters across your legs, takes in the soft, gentle rhythm of your body shifting as you breathe, and traces the curve of your sleepy smile with his thumb, he craves more.

He doesn’t check the time, but the placement of the moon tells him it was near three in the morning—heart pounding, Zoro hopes that what he has to give you is worth sacrificing your last hour of sleep for before your watch begins; as he kisses the top of your head, the sweet hum that comes from your lips gives him all the reassurance he needs that he could wake you up for any reason at all and you would simply be pleased to soak in his presence.

“G’morning, Zoro.” you mumble with a smile, nuzzling into his touch. His arms squeeze you tightly, and his heart melts at the way your grin widens; he used to worry about crushing you with his embraces, but you only seemed to want more of him, always seeking the comfort of having him pressed as close to you as possible.

“Morning.” he whispers softly in your ear, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear; a pulse of electricity races down your side and you shudder against him. Emerging further out of the groggy haze of sleep with each kiss he presses along your jawline, you become increasingly aware of his arousal, and sleepily attempt to grind against him; noticing your struggle, he uses the arm around your waist to pull your hips on top of his as he continues to press wet, heated kisses on every piece of skin he could reach.

“I want you.” he whispers, words light and barely audible as they drift upward into the air. He twitches with want as he feels the heat radiating from your burning cheeks, confidence building as he sees how worked up you are for him with such little effort.

“I want you too, Zoro.” you reply, voice breathy and dripping with excitement; vulnerable and open for him, any shyness or reservations had long been replaced with neediness and yearning. The sensual dance to reach this point had been slow and gradual, but something in the serene stillness of the night and the heat of his touches made you feel like there could never be a sweeter, more perfect time to give yourselves to each other.

“Wanna taste you first.” he mumbles, pressing sweet kisses along the column of your neck and rolling his hips into yours before pulling himself away from your warmth and settling between your thighs. A wave of nerves washes over him as he pushes your nightgown up, but the soft, encouraging, understanding glint in your eyes lights a fire in his chest.

Taking his time, he gently kisses along your thighs; the calm peace of the early morning left him in no rush, and Zoro was determined to drag out and drink up every serene, tranquil bit of intimacy you shared. When his tongue finally licks a stripe across your needy bundle of nerves, you let out a sigh and lace your fingers between his mossy strands of hair. The reassurance of your touch emboldens him to lean in closer and run his tongue along your clit in the same languid, flat strokes that he remembered you responding so well to. The soft moan that escapes your lips has him grateful for his innate ability to commit actions to his muscle memory, and he starts to relax, relying on instinct and your reactions to carry him to your high. The taste and scent of you has his head feeling dizzy, and he wants nothing more than to messily lap up every drop of your essence, but he stops himself, focused on drawing more sweet, breathy sounds out of you as you grind your hips into his face.

“Mmmfh… Feels s’good.” you sigh, grip on his hair tightening ever so slightly as you pull him even closer. For a moment he considers that drowning in your wake like this was what heaven felt like—a pleasure that a demon like him hardly deserved; however, a pirate takes what they want, and he greedily consumes all you give him and then some.

“Y-you’re gettin’ good at this, Zoro.” you whisper; you’re barely able to get the words out, mangled and jumbled on your tongue as the sweet feeling of his tongue rolling across your bud overwhelms your mind. The movement of your hips starts to become erratic, and your pulse jumps to your cheeks as you get close. Zoro’s hands slowly drift to the underside of your thighs to grasp them tightly, his tongue unrelenting in the process.

The grip of his warm, wide, strong hands on your plush skin is enough to make you let go and see white; it’s messy and intense and drawn out, and leaves tingles running through your bloodstream as you can feel your heartbeat pulse through your whole body at once. The sight of you falling apart all over his mouth leaves him staring up at you reverently, taking in every twitch, gasp, and whimper as ecstasy overwhelms your body. Pride surges through his veins at the knowledge that he did this to you—he was able to make you feel this good. As you come down from your high, he rubs soothing circles into your inner thigh with his thumb; when your senses return, the dreamy look you give him makes him simultaneously melt and twitch with need.

Gently nudging you to lay down, he hovers on top of you, stroking the side of your cheek with a soft smile before capturing your lips with his. The kiss starts out gentle, but slowly turns messy and needy; he slips his tongue into your mouth and the taste of yourself on his tongue makes you let out a sigh full of want against his mouth. “Need more of you.” he mumbles into your lips as the kiss deepens, his hands roaming across your body to touch and knead and feel any part of you he can reach.

“Please…” you whisper faintly, voice full of yearning. He breaks the kiss, and gives you a look, silently asking you if you’re certain. One of your legs hooks around him in response, rolling his hips into yours. Reaching up to stroke the side of his cheek with your thumb, you search for any doubt or hesitation in his eyes; all you find is admiration, need, and lust as he stares down at you with darkened eyes and slides off his boxers.

The night is still, and reality shatters; the only visceral and real concept that remains is the intangible thread connecting the two of you as he lines himself up with your entrance, holding your gaze with his own. Leaning down to kiss you, he means to keep his mouth on yours as his cock slides inside you, but the way your walls grip him makes his head tilt back and he lets out a shaky gasp, lips still connected by a string of saliva.

Overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside you, he gives you little time to adjust, but his thrusts are so tortuously slow and deep that they ease you into a gentle, languid rhythm. Drunk on feeling how warm and wet you are, and wanting to feel as much of you as he can at once, his tongue swirls alongside yours, settling into a rhythm that matched the thrusts of his cock inside you. Craving the feeling of his skin pressed closer to yours, you loop your legs around him, locking your grip at the ankles to pull him even deeper inside of you, and his pace picks up speed, beginning to lose himself in a haze of lust.

“I wanna get you off again. Wanna know how it feels when you come around me.” he says, voice gravelly as his hand slides down your side to rub circles into your clit. His hands are rough and motions unpracticed, but the friction makes your back arch regardless. Warmth spreads through your body as his movements start to tighten the coil in your abdomen, until a sloppy circle or slip of his hand makes the tension ebb, unintentionally keeping you on edge. He’s making you feel good, but not enough to get you to your high, and he knows it, judging by the way he grits his teeth in frustration.

Stubborn and proud, he can’t bring himself to verbally ask for help no matter how much he loves and trusts you—instead, he shoots you a look that’s somewhere between pleading and exasperated.

Show me how you like it.

A soft smile spreads across your face as you accept his silent confession of frustration and inexperience with compassion and dignity. His breathing hitches as your hand trails down your torso and place it on top of his, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. Pressing your fingers on top of his, you gently roll his fingertips in rhythmic circles around your clit; soaking your guidance in and absorbing it like a sponge, he takes note of the dips and increases in pressure that you crave, determined to get your walls to flutter around him.

The assistance you give him starts out clear and lucid, but you quickly are lost in a haze of pleasure, and he’s left to his own devices as you turn into a whimpering mess. His thrusts inside of you are slow and lazy as he focuses on the way his fingers drag across your bud; still sensitive and aching from your first climax, and worked up from his inadvertent teasing, your second high creeps up on you quickly, and your hips snap against his to send yourself falling over the edge.

Satisfied could not even begin to describe the way he feels as you grip him, body shivering and walls convulsing around his cock. Breathing heavy as strangled moans fall off your lips, he smashes his mouth onto yours and drinks up every vibration from each sound that escapes your throat. Pliant and limp beneath him, he grabs at your hips and gently massages your skin, and presses hot, messy kisses along your neck.

“That wasn’t too hard. I’ll get at least two more out of ya’ next time.” he whispers into your ear, and you can feel his cocky grin against your neck, making you flush and clench around him.

“You should give me three. One for each sword.” you reply with a soft giggle that melts away as his thrusts deepen and pick up speed, making your head dizzy and thoughts blurry. Instinctually, you tighten the grip of your legs around him, wanting to be smothered in and completely surrounded by his warmth and his love.

“Don’t forget about the fourth one.” he mumbles, voice dripping with pride. He’s close—he had nearly spilled into you when he felt your walls spasm around him earlier, but he’s so drunk on the feeling of being inside you that he does everything in his power to not let this end. However, the way he’s reduced you to a puddle of sighs and moans and gasps, eagerly clawing at him to pull him closer is too intoxicating, and his hips start to stutter. Hot, thick ropes coat your insides with no warning except the way he grabs your jaw and messily plants his lips onto yours as he cums, the taste of you still on his mouth.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

Neither of you are sure who says it first as he collapses on top of you and buries his head into your neck, but you’re both mumbling it repeatedly, like a ritual, sealing an otherworldly pact to swear yourselves to each other. Waves continue to crash against the ship; the sea is still calm and gentle, and like the connection between you, is so deep and profound that there are no words or phrases to adequately express the strength of your sentiments. Despite this, you both can’t help but to try, murmuring one last love you before he gently brushes wayward hair from your face and presses his lips to yours as he slowly slides out of you.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x y/n #one piece smut #x reader #mdni #my magnum opus i think this melted my heart approximately 700 times when writing

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saetoru · 1 year

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。3:37 AM — ITOSHI SAE.

“see? i told you this would be fun,” you hum.

“fun for you, maybe. you get to sit and do nothing. i’m the one driving,” sae gives you a side glare—one that he’s sure you see but elect to ignore in favor of picking the next song on your phone.

if you’d told him half a year ago that he’d be here, giving up sleep to drive you to god knows where in the middle of the night, sae thinks he might have actually laughed—which is something he doesn’t do very often. he’s a bit appalled with himself, truthfully—it’s half past three, way past his usual sleep hours, and he has practice in the morning. yet somehow, he almost thinks he’s having fun.

and then he comes to the daunting realization that he’s really not sure who he even is anymore.

athletes like the itoshi sae need to follow strict regimens. athletes like him need at least eight hours of sleep a day, need balanced diets and a healthy amount of exercise, and need to be level headed and make responsible decisions. athletes like him don’t stay up this late because of one measly pout and a tug to his arm. there’s no reason that sae should be this weak to you, no reason you should hold this much power over him—and yet, in a cruel twist of fate, you do.

you do and you know it, and you’re evil enough that you use it to your full advantage.

“where are we even going?”

“sae, shut up,” you roll your eyes. “why do you always have something to say?”

scoffing, he stops the car at a red light, pressing on the brakes and turning to face you. and he hates to admit it, but the moonlight kissing your skin through the windows makes his heart beat rapidly.

“do you realize i’m sacrificing my sleep for you?” he scoffs at you, looking over at the small patch of skin of your shoulder blade as his shirt droops over your body. he tries not to stare too long—but he fails miserably, and you seem to notice it too.

“quit staring at me,” you smirk, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

he swats your hand away—though gently—and scowls, grumbling under his breath at your supposed claim. you only offer him an amused giggle as he rolls his eyes, and no matter how correct you may be, itoshi sae refuses to admit, even to himself, that he was in fact staring. in his defense, how could he not stare when you look like that in his clothing?

“was not staring at you, stupid.”

“you so were,” you laugh, and he grunts, shaking his head as he rolls his eyes at you unimpressed. it’s a battle that costs him just about all of his self control to not glance down at your lips, but he wins—although miraculously, otherwise, he’d have to hear even more of your teasing, and he doesn’t think his eyes will recover from another round of rolling this time.

“no i wasn’t. that head of yours is too big,” he says, frowning and flicking your forehead at the smug grin you give him. and sae should be asleep, he should be getting enough rest to ensure his optimal performance at practice in the morning so that he can put his teammates efforts to shame—but you said please, and you pouted, and he’s not as strong as he claims to be, although he’ll never admit it.

so now he’s here, and he’s fighting for his dignity as you wiggle your brows playfully at him. but deep down, sae doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere else right about now.

“okay, if you say so,” you snort, “you’ll survive without eight hours of sleep for one day. and by the way, the light’s green now, dumbass. pay attention.”

he hears your giggling as he curses under his breath and presses on the gas pedal, and you slide your hand over his shoulder to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. he pretends to lean back and try to shake your hand off, but you both know it’s his way of leaning further into your touch—so you grant him more of what he craves, rubbing over the back of his neck soothingly as he drives.

“okay, well you’re supposed to be giving me directions, so where do i go now?” he mutters. you shrug, and he groans.

“i don’t know, i’ve been making up directions this whole time. just wanted to drive around. anyway, did you know van gogh’s starry night was painted from his window in an asylum?”

side eyeing you, he purses his lips, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh. and even if you’ve dragged him out of bed for no reason—on a practice night no less—while he’s supposed to be getting much needed rest, he can’t help but find every annoying little quirk of yours endearing. even this one.

“what does that have to do with anything?” he asks flatly.

and sae is not an easy book to read, he never was—he’s like those difficult words you have to stop and google to understand, or those ridiculous metaphors that only literature teachers care for. but he’s well worth it, you think. he makes you want to skip the pages and jump right to the end, and he’s the kind of story you pray ends happily. and somehow, when he climbs out of bed in his wrinkled shirt and loose sweats, hair tousled and sleep laced in his eyes as he begrudgingly grabs his keys for you—you think maybe you don’t want the story to end at all just yet. or ever.

“just a fun fact, jeez,” you pout. “any soccer fun facts you wanna share?”

“athletes need plenty of sleep to perform their best,” he shoots instantly. you huff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms at his stubbornness to just admit he enjoys being here as much as you do.

“sae, one of these days you’ll drive me so crazy, i’ll need to be in an asylum myself.”

“one of these days, when i send you to an asylum, maybe i can sleep reasonable hours,” he smirks at you. the soft slap to his shoulder causes him to chuckle in amusement, and you cave and send the softest of grins at his direction.

“you’ll never last a day without me,” you quip, and to your surprise, he smiles a little. it’s gentle—much gentler than you expect from someone like him, and you’re not used to it. but it’s pretty, just like the rest of itoshi sae, and you hope fate permits a few more nights with him by your side, whether it’s in bed as he sleeps or in the car as he drives. maybe, you’ll even dare to hope for an eternity.

“i don’t know,” he hums, and one hand lays gently on your thigh as he drives mindlessly with the other on the wheel, “i think i could manage to squeeze in ten hours of sleep if you were gone,” he adds with smug grin, and even as you scowl at him, you decide right then and there that if itoshi sae isn’t your happy ending, you don’t think you want one. ever.

“you’re rude, y’know that?”

“i’d say driving aimlessly for your stupid whims is rather generous.”

“hmm, maybe,” you murmur, looking at him with a look so sweet, he feels his breath catch in his throat when he peeks at you through the corner of his eyes. and he hopes you don’t notice it, or the way his expression softens too. “love you,” you add quietly, lifting his hand to kiss the back.

“yeah,” he mumbles. “love you too.” you lace your fingers with his, setting his hand back down onto your lap. he squeezes gently, and you squeeze back. “i love it more when you sleep, though.”

i think sae rly likes driving tbh. finds it relaxing and if u play with the hair at the nape of his neck he loves it more. he’s pathetically a loser

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae x you #itoshi sae x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff

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diaryofanidiot · 9 months

Text

The Experiments

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

Chapter list: Prologue, 1, 2, <3> , 4, 5

Cw: Swearing; torture; blood; medical experiments; panic attacks; malnourishment

Summary: For over a year, Y/N was held in a soviet experimentation facility. Forced to fight and claw her way to live, she managed to stay alive. When the 141 rescues her, they get way more intel than bargained for.

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Chapter Three

Sweat made the hospital gown irritatingly stick to my skin as I tried to get comfortable in the cot. They had left me restrained during the night, making it harder to sleep as I looked restlessly around the medical bay.

The occasional night shift nurse or guard would pass by, but other than that, I received no reprive from the torment that was my own mind.

Ghost was no longer nearby on what I assumed had been a guard duty of sorts. He must've left during the measly few hours of sleep that I had managed. With a huff, I tapped my finger to the call button and waited.

Within the minute, a nurse appeared with a friendly smile. For the night shift, she still certainly kept her bedside manner in check.

She brought over a chart with various illustrations of what I could possibly need, and I pointed to the bathroom. The kind nurse smiled with an "of course." and went to retrieve a guard to undo my restraints and help me into my wheelchair.

I don't know when I began scheming. All I knew was that if I didn't get out of this confined space and into some fresh air, I might actually snap. Sure, Soap or maybe even Gaz, if he had truly forgiven me for the hand incident, might be kind enough to take me for some in the morning.

Despite that fact that slipped my brain, my entire extended time of washing my hands was filled with thoughts of escape.

As the guard wheeled me back, I managed to slip my hand into his jacket pocket and nab the key undetected. I don't think he expected it with the friendly smile I had sacrificed to him.

Once I was back in my cot and the guard fastened my restraints, I feigned soreness in my dominant wrist.

"Too tight?" He asked me. I gave him a pitiful look before I saw the gears crank in his brain. "I suppose keeping this one loose won't do any harm. Just don't snitch. If you even can." He snickered and put a playful finger to his lips as he allowed me more wiggle room with that arm. He was kind. I hated to pull the wool over his eyes.

Once I was left alone to rest once more, I couldn't help the slight smirk on my face despite the nerves in my stomach as I maneuvered the key to the lock. It took a while of fumbling, but soon it went in, and I was able to nudge it until it clicked open.

My eyes shot up and looked around, checking my surroundings before unlocking my other hand and then my ankles. I leaned over on my cot to pull my wheelchair next to the bed. Now for the difficult part.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed while using my arms to keep balance as I lowered myself into the chair. It was excruciating on my body, but I had already decided that the ends justified the means.

Once I was seated comfortable, I glanced at the IV in my arm. There was no way I could take the bulky stand holding the drip bag with me, so I did what any not so sane person would've done and removed the needle on my own. I already had multiple infected wounds. What was the risk of one more?

Determination flooded my bones as I peered around to make sure the coast was clear. Despite my inner fire I couldn't help but jump at every sound while I maneuvered the unfamiliar place.

When I finally reached the steel door entrance of the medical building, I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding and struggled to open the door; while simultaneously fitting my wheel chair through.

It didn't matter in the end as the door opened by a force not of my own. My gaze shot upward to see an all too familiar mask staring down at me, the night sky not even providing enough light to see his eyes through the skull.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He understood my motives. I didn't know why at this exact moment. Yet, here we were. He matched my pace as he allowed me to wheel my way around the compound and revel in the fresh air.

I occasionally peeked a glance at him. He seemed so stoic but the kindness in the action showed me he was a bit more than that.

"Don't do that." He broke the silence. "I can see the damn gratitude in your face. You're still getting reprimanded when we're done here."

I broke my eyes away suddenly. He could try to play the mean guy all he wanted, but this was the biggest act of kindness I had received in so long. He would get my gratitude whether he liked it or not.

The moon was a small crescent tonight, and a cool breeze blew past occasionally. Crickets chirped, and the occasional glow of a firefly caught my attention. Just the sight if it made everything that I went through. No. That I survived feel worth it.

I had been advised to wait to speak during my physical therapy sessions but I had to communicate. Even just a little.

"You-" I coughed as I got too eager to speak. His eyes were on me now as we paused our stroll. "Saved me." I managed. He handed me a water and I sipped it gratefully.

"Didn't even know you were there. Was just doing my job." He insisted matter-of-factly. "You're welcome, though. If that's what you really want. Nothing is owed."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes once he looked away and continued our walk. Didn't he realize I owed everything to him and his team? Eventually, his hand grabbed the back of my wheelchair, halting my movements.

"We need to get you back where you belong. Cmon." He looked at me expectantly. I got the feeling that if i didn't wheel myself back that he would do it for me. With a look of dejection, I let him walk me back to that horrible place known as the medbay.

"Don't look so sad. I was told you'll only be there for a few weeks." He looked forward as he spoke. "After that, you'll only need to go in for a few checkups."

I had more questions but no way to speak them. It was frustrating, to say the least, but I couldn't help myself from trusting him.

Ghost was right. After the first two weeks, many of my injuries had healed substantially. The infections were now gone, and the sores on my neck were toward the end stages of healing.

The time spent there was agonizing, switching between physical therapy, speech therapy, and the constant check-in from the doctors and nurses.

Soap visited when Ghost couldn't watch over me. His company was nice enough to help pass the time. He was more chatty than the latter which I appreciated. Even Gaz began to visit again. He had truly forgiven me, which I couldn't lie that I had my doubts of, and his hand had healed up.

There was the occasional day or two when none of the trio would visit me. I had been told they were still cleaning up messes near the place I was rescued. Part of me wondered if they were searching for others like me. Other bioengineered weapons that is.

But my favorite time of day was the pre "lights out" walks that Ghost would occasionally take me on before retiring for the night. While he didn't speak much, he seemed to understand that they helped substantially. I liked to think that he enjoyed them as well. He certainly at least seemed less tense.

That is, until my voice began to come back to me. It was scratchy at first and hurt my throat for a bit, but soon, something phenomenal happened. I recognized it. I finally had my own voice back.

I might've abused the happiness it gave me by never shutting up...

"You really like the sound of your own voice, don't ya?" Gaz interrupted. I paused before realizing I was rambling to him.

"...am I really talking that much?"

"Well," He smiled in amusement. "I just spent the last Twenty minutes sitting here listening to you go on about the things you've observed during your stay in the medbay."

I looked away, apologizing. He laughed and shook his head.

"Nah, you're getting discharged today. You have a right to be excited."

"Just glad you guys got back in time." I smiled. The rest of the 141 walked in shortly after.

"(Y/n)!" Soap called, a giant grin on his face. Ghost and Price trailed close behind. "How ya feeling, lass?"

He placed his hand on my head, ruffling my hair. "You ready to go?"

"Yes. Please." I said, my tone filled with relief. Gaz handed me my crutches, which I had upgraded to a few days ago.

Once I was discharged and the proper paperwork was filed, I was led to a new building. One with proper rooms and facilities.

"You understand, (y/n), now that your voice is back, We are going to need you to answer some questions?" Price asked. I wasn't as close to him as I was to the other's, considering he didn't visit nearly as often. He was kind to me, though.

I nodded. "I'll do what I can. If there are others like me out there... I want to do what I can to help."

The Captain smiled at me with a hint of admiration. "Atta girl. Here you are."

They had led me to a room. It was mostly bare aside from some essential furniture. Like an actual bed, a desk, a dresser, and a trunk.

It mightve been bare... but oh how I missed privacy.

"There's some clothes in the dresser. May not be your style, but it's what's on hand." Soap spoke, pointing toward it before facing me. "Better than that hospital gown, I assume?"

I nodded eagerly before feeling a firm hand pat my back. Ghost.

"Get settled in. I'll come get you in a short while and you can give us some answers."

I watched as they took their leave, closing the door behind them. I was practically giddy at the newfound freedom as I limped over to the dresser and opened it. Plain black shirts and cargo pants were folded military style.

Part of me wondered who prepped it for me. No matter. Getting dressed on my own was an entirely new hurdle that my physical therapist hadn't addressed yet, but with the help of the bed to sit on, I managed.

I set my crutches aside and flopped back onto the mattress. Finally, my ears were greeted with... nothing. No beeping monitors, no footsteps that raised my anxiety, not the mumbled voices of nurses and doctors. My nose was given the same reprive. No smell of hand sanitizer or cleaning products. Surprisingly, less sterile smelled... better.

I don't know how long I had stayed there with my eyes closed. It felt good not to be so overwhelmed.

All good things must come to an end.

A knock at my door and the clicking of the latch made my eyes open. Ghost, despite being so large, moved quietly. I never heard him approaching.

"Ready to give us some answers?"

A/n: Once again, thank you all for the love this fic has received. All your comments and reviews have done nothing but make me smile <3 I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm gonna be making a separate post for taglist add requests soon. I'll link it to the fic once it's up as it's getting a bit chaotic 😅 if I missed you, then feel free to ask again. I've gotten a lot of replies asking to be added

Taglist: @warenai @linoskitten11 @jamesrifftapes @justmare @hk-4ever @thriving-n-jiving @katelouis98 @tayaisback @josieguts @btszn @lemmyyy0606 @msecho19 @cory-viv @cybercl0ne @randomhumans-blog @vinithechocolatevampire @embermdk @itsryuken @neothewitch @undercover-smutlover @noeltako @y2cade @ghostindeath @soundsfunbutno @untoldshortsofthefandoms @emily-roberts @x4vern1a @theimaginaryheir @bitchoftoji @stunkbiggu @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @theredviolets @v1naco @berryjuicyy @serenitysmind @mundane-frogola @sushiumex @thorninspaceandtime @tooruen @hotchlover

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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hypnos333 · 4 months

Text

Our Forever

Cha hyunsu x reader

Synopsis: You were hiding your baby boy from the world but it seems like the military already knows hopefully Hyunsu finds you before they do.

Part 1 - Your forever

Taehoon waddle around, eyes pitch black as he was fed grapes from you. As sweet as this little baby was he always gets what he wants. He even named him monster Teddy. You could only imagine what having a girl would be like.

“When will I see you again?” You whisper think instantly to Hyunsu,He sacrificed himself to get a cure leaving you heavily pregnant and alone but a monster helped you through it before it died. And Now you gave birth to Taehoon. Your sweet baby boy.

when you look at Taehoon you see his father. Taehoon nudged you before pointing at his mouth “Ah” he whined making you smile sadly before gently putting a grape in his mouth making him chew slowly.

You were surprised to find fresh grapes from the run down market. You haven’t ate anything making sure Taehoon gets enough protein and food.

You lift up your baby boy to put him to sleep but as soon as you picked him up he was out like a light.

Taehoon is indeed a hybrid with the same abilities as his father but when a human look deep into his eyes a human can turn to a monster. So sometimes he wears blindfolds.

One day Taehoon snuck out making your panic.

“How can a three year old be curious already” You mumbled but then gasp as you saw Sergeant Tak holding Taehoon.

You instantly rushed to him as he gladly gave the baby boy to you.

“A baby during golden hour that’s new one” He said making you tense but you can’t ignore the Sergeant.

“I was pregnant before all of this even happened Sir sorry for the inconvenience” You answered respectfully as you shift Taehoon in a more comfortable position.

“I see, you’re also not apart of the safe place, Would you like-“No thank you” You interrupted him making him tilt his head in confusion.

“What’s his name?” He asked slightly pointing to you baby, you looked at Taehoon his adorably before look back at the solider. “His name is Taehoon it means perfectionist and Compassion” You answered.

“Is his father with you or turned into a monster?”

“What’s with these questions?” You asked politely trying to be a good role model to your son.

“I know about you trying to hide your baby from us but I can assure you he is safe unless he attacks” Sergeant Tak said honestly making you hold Taehoon tighter in your arms.

“I understand” You said before walking back to your home.

As a mother of a hybrid no monster dared to hurt you. They avoided you or helped you scout for food for your son.

Days later you decided to take Taehoon out for some air. So a walk was ideal for the both of you, You packed a bottle of milk, his blindfold and pacifier. As he chew on a chocolate chip cookie that you found in a convenience store.

You held his hand as you both walked under the stars. The cold air blew luckily you gave Taehoon a big jacket otherwise he would be having a cold. But this wasn’t a typical breeze it was like someone was coming.

You held Taehoon close as you closed your eyes. This person must have been in front of you because-“Dada?”

What?

You opened your eyes and saw Hyunsu in front of you and Taehoon. Your baby looked at you for permission before you nodded making him with a little struggle instantly run to his dad.

Hyunsu took him with open arms as he spins him around in joy.

“I missed you so much Tae I promise I’ll never leave you and your mama again” Hyunsu said holding back tears. Both of your boys looked at you both extending their arms so you’ll come to them.

You smiled going in their arms. Now they were a complete family. Even though the world around them was still a disaster they still had each other to hold.

Pt.3

#cha hyunsu x reader #hyunsu imagine #hyunsu x reader #hyunsoo x reader #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagines

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 15)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: depictions of labor/childbirth and violence/death.

“Y/N,” Effie all but accosts the woman emerging from the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N frowns, bewildered by Effie’s urgency.

She is in tears, “it’s Cinna.”

“What happened to Cinna?”

“He’s…he’s dead.”

Again the floor is falling out from beneath her, sinking, never ending. “How?”

“I don’t know, dear.” Effie breathes, it’s all being kept hush.

“I have to-” Haymitch left before Y/N, allowing her to rest. Her eyes are still swollen from the tears, no amount of sleep or makeup will hide it. “Haymitch is waiting for me.” Does he know?

“Of course,” Effie nods, excusing herself.

Y/N moves for the elevator, jamming the call button repeatedly with her finger. It dings upon arrival, moving at a snail’s pace to the ground floor.

The outdoor viewing area is open today. As if nice weather is reason enough for a picnic, while tributes slaughter each other on screen.

Chaff is still alive; hiding, waiting it out.

The current threat is monkey mutts, blood rain and the giant tidal wave; that sends Peeta and Katniss’ alliance to meet up with Johanna, Wiress and Beetee on the beach.

“Johanna?” Finnick spots her first, covered in blood from head to toe. “Johanna.”

“Finnick!”

“Looks like we have more allies,” Peeta remarks.

Y/N finds her husband, near the far wall of the indoor viewing area. He’s easier to spot in a crowd after all these years, the width of his shoulders, the color of his hair.

“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” He is tired, worn down and unfortunately, the only news she has to share does nothing to help.

“Cinna’s dead.” Y/N whispers, plopping down in the seat beside him.

“Blight hit the forcefield, died on impact. Female morphling sacrificed herself to save Peeta.” Haymitch adds to the death toll.

“Do you think he lied? Plutarch.” That’s what gamemakers do. They lie to get in your head.

“His plan is to get Katniss out. I don’t think he lied about that.” If they keep this alliance going long enough-

“What about Peeta?” What about everyone else?

Can’t protect anyone in an arena. “He’ll be with Katniss.”

“Tick tock,” Wiress says, for what must be the hundredth time. Grabbing Johanna by the forearms to spin her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asks.

“She’s in shock, dehydration isn’t helping.” Beetee tells Katniss.

“I’ll get her some water.” Gloss takes the spile into the tree line. His back is torn up pretty good from the mutts.

“Tick tock.”

Katniss leads Wiress out into the water. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Johanna follows, while Beetee stays closer to shore, winding something on a spool.

“What’s Beetee got there?” Katniss wonders.

“Some kind of coil.” Johanna picks pieces of debris from her axe.

“Did he get it from the cornucopia?”

“Took a knife in the back to get it.”

“Tick tock.” Wiress gasps.

“I can’t,” Johanna holds up a hand in defeat. “Have fun with nuts.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss repeats, though it makes little sense to her. Allowing the water to wash away any blood clinging to Wiress’ hair.

Y/N looks to Haymitch, “tick tock?”

He lifts a shoulder, hell if I know.

Lightening strikes the large tree, at the far end of the arena, twelve times. Almost like- “a clock.” Y/N mutters under her breath, “chimes on a clock.”

“Twelve sections.” Haymitch realizes, “everything stays in its own…the forcefields in between.”

“Oh,” Wiress bobs up from the water. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss says again, “it’s a clock. Wiress, you’re a genius.”

————————————————————————

With this new knowledge, the alliance heads back to the cornucopia.

“It all starts with the lightening. Then the blood rain, fog and monkeys, that’s the first four hours. At ten, that big wave hits from over there.” Katniss pauses to watch Peeta sketch a crude outline of the arena, with his sword.

“The tail points at twelve,” Peeta adds.

“That’s where the lighting strikes, at noon and midnight.”

“Strikes where?” Beetee asks.

“That big tree.”

Beetee cocks his head to the side, “good.”

“Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock,” Wiress is singing softly to herself, beside the water.

Gloss takes a seat beside her to keep watch, smiling kindly. He doesn’t know this song.

“What about the other hours, did you guys see anything?” Cashmere asks Johanna and Beetee, hoping to fill in the other six wedges.

“Nothing but blood.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peeta moves to stand, “as long as we steer clear of whatever sector’s active, we’ll be safe.”

“Yeah,” Finnick chimes in, “relatively speaking.”

Wiress gasps in surprise, drawing their attention.

Brutus is there with his sword buried in Gloss’ sternum. He had shielded Wiress with his own body. Gloss tumbles into the water. Cannon.

Leaving Wiress dead by Enobaria’s hand. Cannon.

Katniss draws her bow, the other victors now on defense.

Cashmere is lost in a fit of rage, knocking Brutus from the rocks.

The archer lands an arrow in Enobaria’s left arm, the career diving back into the water.

Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face. No time to digest the news as the entire cornucopia begins to spin. What the hell are you doing, Plutarch?

Johanna keeps hold of Katniss for as long as she can, but she is eventually lost to the whirling water.

She’ll drown. Y/N gnaws at the inside of her cheek. She’ll drown while I’m sitting here and all I can do is watch.

The spinning stops, the same way it started; suddenly and without cause. Eventually Katniss is able to kick to the surface, the viewing room cheers.

“Let’s just get what we need and get off the bloody island.” Johanna scowls, patting at Katniss’ back while she hacks up water from her lungs.

————————————————————————

“Besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asks, sifting sand between her fingers.

They are back on the beach now.

“Maybe Chaff,” Peeta offers, “just those three.”

“They know they’re outnumbered, I doubt they’ll attack again.” Finnick reasons, “we’re safe here, on the beach.”

Cashmere hasn’t said a word…not since Gloss.

“So what, we hunt them down?”

“Katniss!” Prim’s howl ends the conversation prematurely. “Katniss, help me!”

“Prim!” Katniss takes off; without back up, or logical thought. Prim is in danger and she needs to save her.

“Katniss, wait.” Peeta chases after her, his leg becoming more irritated with every step. Still he presses on, ignoring it as best he can.

The bird carrying Prim’s scream is shot dead. Jabberjays.

Finnick is the fastest, joining Katniss in the clearing. “Katniss, are you ok?”

“Finnick! Ahhhh!” Annie’s voice draws him deeper into the forest.

“Annie! Annie, where are you?”

Peeta pounds his fist uselessly against the forcefield. They can’t hear him, he can’t hear them.

Katniss and Finnick run back towards the beach, only to realize that they are trapped. Birds wailing all around them. Katniss sees Peeta before she collides with the forcefield.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. They’re just mutts, they’re not real.” Peeta yells, hoping Katniss can make out the words.

She screams, covering her ears, crumpling to the ground. Peeta follows; touching his forehead to the forcefield. They wait for the hour to pass.

Y/N’s lower back is taut, spasming and releasing, stealing the air from her lungs.

Haymitch notices the uncomfortable shifting beside him. “You ok?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her own voice.

Haymitch begins thumbing circles along her spine.

————————————————————————

Word comes from Plutarch, the extraction is happening tonight. A hovercraft commandeered by district thirteen will arrive shortly and they will go. Collecting the remaining victors, under the guise of death.

Beetee’s plan is a good one, it will cause enough of a distraction. Using his wire to conduct electricity from the lighting strike at midnight.

“How do we know the wire’s not gonna burn up?” Johanna demands, leaning heavily against a tree branch.

“Because I invented it,” Beetee looks up at her. “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”

Cashmere stares out at the water. The hovercraft never came to collect Gloss’ body. Did the cornucopia tear it up? Or do they just not care enough to recover it?

Finnick returns to the sea, waiting out the sunset.

Katniss and Peeta find solace in each other, the way they always have.

“I think we need to go.”

“This plan’s gonna work,” Peeta disagrees.

“I think so too,” Katniss whispers. “Once the careers are dead, we all know what happens next. I don’t wanna be the one that shoots first.”

“What if they don’t either? What if all of us refuse to shoot first?”

The gamemakers will send mutts, or perhaps gun them down if they’re feeling impatient. “We might still end up dead.”

“Maybe not,” Peeta lifts a shoulder, “I mean it worked for us last time.”

“They’re not gonna make that mistake again. We both know there’s only one person walking out of here and it’s gonna be one of us.”

“The careers are still out there. I say we stick with these guys till midnight, and if we hear a cannon, we go.”

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Katniss, I don’t know what kind of deals you made with Haymitch, but he made me promises too.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, kid.” Haymitch raises his glass to Peeta before chugging it down.

Y/N just shakes her head. For a man who claims he doesn’t love those kids, he sure does make a lot of deals. With them, for them, doing his damnedest to keep them alive.

When the star crossed lovers kiss, there is no denying it’s real. Katniss loves Peeta, Peeta loves her. Finally she understands, what Y/N had been trying to tell her, that day on the train. Peeta is that person; her best friend, her partner, the one who waits.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Johanna calls them back.

What’s left of the alliance heads to the lighting tree.

————————————————————————-

“You two girls go together now.” Beetee hands Katniss and Johanna the wire. “Unspool it carefully, make sure the entire wire is in the water. Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector, we’ll meet you there.”

“I’m gonna go with them as a guard.” Peeta insists.

“No,” Beetee’s head snaps toward him. “You’re staying here to protect me…and the tree.”

“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta is not backing down.

“They’re trying to separate them.” Madge realizes, pulling the throw pillow into her lap. The children and her mother are asleep, leaving only her and her father on the couch.

Y/N’s family set up camp in Victor’s Village, providing Everest and Arista some normalcy. In their own house, in their own beds. They are often found in their parent’s room, clinging to pieces they left behind.

“I’m sure there’s a reason.” The mayor shoots his daughter a reassuring smile.

They rarely watch the games together, not since she was a child. Under different circumstances Madge might think their time spent together was nice.

Katniss leaves with Johanna. Staring back at Peeta until the darkness swallows his silhouette.

A few feet later Katniss feels a bit of resistance from the line, tugging lightly. Must be stuck on a rock. “It’s caught on something.”

Brutus cuts the wire, sending the loose end flying back toward Katniss.

Johanna turns on her then, slicing a gash in Katniss’ arm and smearing the blood across her neck. “Stay down.” She tosses her axe at the careers and darts off into the woods.

Katniss pushes herself upright once their footsteps are out of earshot. “Peeta.”

“Johanna,” Finnick comes to check on his friend, after the commotion.

Katniss remains silent, allowing him to pass her by. Gathering her bow, she heads back to the tree.

Cashmere is missing and Peeta is gone. Leaving only Beetee; unconscious and twitching after an ill fated tryst with the conductor.

His spear harbors the evidence, wire still wrapped around it’s blade.

A cannon sounds, symbolizing Chaff’s death.

“Peeta!” Katniss screams.

Finnick sprints back toward the sound, “Katniss, where are you?”

She draws her bow, aimed at Finnick as he returns.

“Remember who the real enemy is.”

Just like Haymitch said…

The artificial storm cloud looms above them, and Katniss knows what must be done. There is only one shot at this, one way it ends.

“Katniss, get away from that tree,” Finnick warns.

She does not heed it, preparing for her final act. Twisting the wire around her arrow, a single shot toward the bolt of lightning. Her body is sent flying when it collides.

The screen goes black, Madge’s mouth agape. Nothing like this has ever happened. What will happen? What will Snow do?

She doesn’t have long to agonize over the prospect before the old communication system hums to life. Static cracking through the speaker. A jumble of nonsense and then a voice, her voice. Madge would know it anywhere.

“Into the woods-”

“Y/N,” Mayor Undersee nearly trips in his haste to reach the receiver. “Sweetheart, are you there?”

“District twelve…” the line crackles, “into the woods.” Then she is gone.

They aren’t able to revive the signal.

“We have to move.” Madge understands.

“She wasn’t making any sense.” Her father argues. “It might be safer if we stay-”

“Y/N is stuck in the Capitol, that may be the last message she ever sends and she sent it here. To you, to me. So we have a chance.”

He squares his jaw, struggling to accept this news. Not because he thinks his daughter is wrong…because he knows that she is right.

“I’m gonna warn the Everdeens and then I’m taking Everest and Arista into the woods where it’s safe. Pounding on doors and screaming, all the way, for our people to follow.”

“Get the kids ready to move, I’ll get your mother.”

“Thank you.” Madge says, chest heaving as she turns on her heels. Waking the children, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Her parents are waiting at the door, with Gale and Katniss’ family.

“How long do we have?” Gale asks, Primrose and Miss Everdeen tucked away behind him.

“Hovercrafts could be here in an hour, maybe two.” The mayor informs him.

“Something tells me they’re in a hurry.”

————————————————————————

“I need you to take a big breath for me.” Haymitch is kneeling in front of his wife. Cupping her face in his hands, the line is down, they can no longer communicate with district twelve.

“I can’t.” Y/N claws at his hands, unable to deny that she’s having contractions, no more than two minutes apart. “Haymitch…” what if they didn’t get the message.

“Everest and Arista are gonna be waiting for us. Madge too.” Haymitch knows it. There is no other outcome. “Thirteen is sending hovercrafts for evacuation as soon as possible.”

“Did we get Peeta?”

“We have Katniss, Beetee, Finnick and Cashmere, for now. The pilot is swinging back around for Peeta and Johanna.” They only have a few minutes before the Capitol fleet arrives. “We’re gonna get them, ok?”

Y/N nods, breathing out through her nose.

“I need you to focus on this.” He runs a hand over her belly, tense with another contraction. “Healthy baby, healthy you.”

————————————————————————

Katniss startles awake, an oxygen mask tied to her face. She’s in the hovercraft. They’re taking us to the Capitol. Beetee is beside her, still unconscious. They must be holding Peeta elsewhere.

The last thing she remembers is the arrow firing, broken pieces of the arena falling around her and the claw.

“Ahhhhhhh!” A piercing scream echoes through the hovercraft.

All the more terrifying because Katniss knows it, she heard it among the jabberjays. Y/N. They are torturing her. Katniss can’t say how, but it must be something awful. Tearing the flesh from her body…

Removing the mask, she scans the area for something, anything she can use, a syringe. All she needs is a clear shot at one of her veins, save Y/N from whatever they’re planning to do next. Then she would move on to Peeta, spare him this hell.

Katniss hides the weapon behind her back, tapping the glowing access panel to open the door.

Y/N is there, sweat clings the material of her dress to her body; mouth open in an agonized howl.

Haymitch is seated behind her, keeping her upright, holding her hands. Cashmere is perched between her legs.

Finnick spots Katniss first, from his place beside Plutarch, at the holographic display table. “Katniss.”

“Katniss?” Y/N repeats, eyes searching for her.

The syringe clatters to the ground, Katniss charging toward her and crouching at her side.

“Honey, are you ok?” Y/N shakes one hand free from Haymitch’s grasp, reaching for her.

Katniss, takes it, pressing her cheek against the back of her mentor’s hand. No. “I thought…”

Y/N bears down as another contraction ripples through her abdomen.

“That was good.” Cashmere nods, patting Y/N’s knee.

“What is that?” Y/N’s given birth twice before, this is different.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Cashmere encourages as tiny feet appear, “everything is ok.” It’s not ideal, but if they keep the baby moving-

“Where’s Peeta?” Katniss turns to Haymitch.

His eyes are glossy, hesitant to reply, “he’s in the Capitol. They got him and Johanna. We couldn’t get to him in time. But we’re gonna talk to President Coin when we get to district thirteen and figure out the best way to get him back.”

You’re a liar. Katniss wants to scream it, to slap him, hard, for breaking his promise. But it will have to wait. You promised to save him over me.

Exhausted and frustrated, Y/N reaches a hand down to make sense of what’s happening. “Breech?”

“Yeah,” Cashmere breathes.

Finnick is just beyond the blonde’s shoulder, a pained expression on his face. Or perhaps nauseated, watching over Y/N without actively watching.

“Once we deliver the shoulders, it should be easy.” Katniss has seen this before, her mother delivered a handful of breech babies, as a healer. The women of district twelve would call on her when the babies got stuck.

Y/N pushes again, crying out as she does.

Haymitch rests his cheek against the crown of her head. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes to the sound of her sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N continues, the same way Haymitch has known her to face any difficulty, with fierce determination. The infant is placed on her chest, kicking and crying. Healthy; same as her brother and sister before her.

Part 16

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy fanfic #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x y/n #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch x reader #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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astralalmighty · 8 months

Text

Kallus, at some point in the rebellion, probably: Welcome, everyone. I have been awake for 49 consecutive hours putting this emergency mission together for you so none of you self-sacrificing idiots die. I’m running on seven and a half cups of caf. The last three pages of your packets will have some typos because I had to use voice-to-text after I started seeing double. The only thing getting me through this pre-mission debrief is the fact that I need you all off the ground within the hour. Then I’m going to take the longest nap known to the galaxy and eat a karking bantha. So open your packets to page 4 and start memorizing the Imperial fleet patterns that you should have memorized already but I can’t expect that. Now sit back and enjoy the splendor of a presentation presented by none other than my highly caffeinated and sleep deprived self. Let’s get cracking.

#alexsandr kallus #agent Kallus #swr #I like to think he’s giving this presentation to the ghost crew #after Draven woke him up at 4 am in a panic to plan this emergency mission #what is the emergency mission? fuck if I know

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pixiekiwi · 2 months

Text

Comfort || Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

a/n: if you’re interested, i am writing a stiles stilinski x fem!oc on my wattpad linked here: veggiekiwi

warnings: angst, mentions of death

words: 897

—

“I’m so tired.”

Were the three words that finally broke you, hearing them uttered from your boyfriend’s mouth.

Your eyes widened with fear as you turned to Stiles, who was attempting to sleep next to you, after a week of nightmares, waking up screaming - he had probably gotten a total of 8 hours of sleep in the past week. Your heart broke at the sight of him looking at you, something unexplainable swam in his whiskey irises illuminated by the moonlight.

“Oh Stiles,” you whispered, turning your body towards his, your hand traveling to his pale cheek. He was cold, which scared you, and he was crying, which scared you even more. Stiles was never known to break easily, he was a man of honor, portrayed himself as strong, when inside he saw himself as weak.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he admitted quietly, tears falling down his nose as he stared into your eyes, “I’m afraid to sleep (Y/N),” he paused. His own larger hand goes to your chin, brushing it softly before retracting it, “I'm afraid.”

You felt like sobbing right then and there, hearing those words fall from his mouth. After the past year of fighting supernatural, it was rare to hear Stiles admit to something like that, after his father almost got sacrificed, after almost losing you. He had to be strong, and especially in front of you.

It wasn’t your turn to be comforted though, instead it was his. You pulled his body into yours, his head resting under yours as you kissed the top of his head, his shoulders beginning to rack with sobs, “I just want to sleep Y/N. I’m tired of these nightmares, the days I think I’m dreaming-” He cut himself off, wrapping his strong arms around your lower frame, they almost felt weak.

You shushed him slowly, stroking his hair in comfort. Truthfully, you didn’t know what to say, you hadn’t gone through what the boy did, so you let him cry into your chest, holding him as much as needed, letting him release the feelings he was keeping within himself.

“It’s okay my love,” you began to whisper, “It’s okay to be tired, you’ve gone through so much, you’re only 17.” You continued to stroke the boy's hair, one hand moving to his back, “You’re the strongest person I know, Stiles.” You admitted, and this was true, out of the whole pack, you truly believed it.

The boy in your arms shook his head slowly, “That’s just it (Y/N),” he whispered, moving from your grasp to meet your eyes, “I’m not strong, I feel so weak. I’m human, I can’t do things the way you can, the way Scott can, I can’t do anything.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at the revelation of the boy's feelings, “Stiles…” You began, your voice low, “That’s not true,” you shook your head, your hands going to the boys under eyes wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “You’re the smartest, strongest person I’ve ever met. You are constantly there for the pack, we can always count on you for anything.” You kissed the boy's cheek tenderly, “You always figure shit out.” You smiled weakly at this statement, hoping to cheer the boy up, which you did slightly. His eyes lit up as they stared into your own.

He shook his head, wiping his tears haphazardly, “You don’t get it.”

Your heart shattered at these words, your eyes casting downward to your legs entangled with his. He was right, you didn’t get it, you never really would. But that wouldn't stop you from trying to understand, Stiles needed you to, whether he knew it or not.

It was silent for a while, your eyes drifting back up to the boy in front of you, his eyes already on you. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you (Y/N),” he spoke, his voice hoarse from crying. His hand moved to your cheek.

You held a small smile at his touch, something that’s always comforted you, “We couldn’t have done it without you. I couldn’t have done it without you Stiles.

His head shook, “I almost lost you (Y/N),” his voice broke with these words, tears fell again at the thought of that fateful night, you in his arms, dying. “There was nothing I could do to save you, I couldn’t take your pain, I couldn’t heal you-“ you cut him off, your gentle hand going to his chin.

“Stiles.” your soft voice echoing in his ears, “I don’t need that from you, what you did, holding me there, comforting me,” you stopped yourself, attempting to hold yourself together, thinking about the way he begged and pleaded for you to be okay that night. “You were everything I needed Stiles.” you pursed your lips, pulling your body closer to his, “You always will be.”

Stiles accepted you moving closer to him, he wrapped and arm around you and used his other to tilt your chin upwards, kissing you tenderly. As he pulled away there was a look of hope in his eye, but something else that you couldn’t decipher. He smiled weakly at you, “I love you (Y/N),” he whispered, his brown eyes scanning your face.

You pushed yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his frame and muttering into his bare chest, “I love you Stiles.”

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biblio-smia · 2 months

Note

hey! congrats on 800!!! can i request a mike schmidt x reader w the prompt “kissing their rosy cheeks when it’s cold out” from list two!! like they’re playing in the snow w abby :))) thank you sm, i love your writing!!!!!

thank you so much!!!! | part of v’s 800 follower celebration!

the first time snow fell this year, it had fallen thinly and become slop within a few hours. the second time, it fell heavier, but it just barely covered the lawns and the driveways.

the third time, however, inches upon inches of pillowy white snow had fallen overnight. by morning, it was almost impossible to get anywhere outside.

school and work had been cancelled for the day, allowing everyone the morning to sleep in; the shoveling of driveways could wait until later. for now, the neighborhood looked picturesque with snow adorning the tops of all the houses.

abby's screeches wake you, concern pulling you out of your warm bed. you don't notice the cold until you see abby is fine and realize that an unusually white glow is coming in through the windows.

"look at that snow!" abby cries; you had sleepily told her that her school called to cancel earlier, but neither of you had bothered to look outside until now.

mike comes up behind you, groaning at the sudden brightness. abby bounds up to mike. she doesn't have to speak, her ideas glistening in her eyes.

"breakfast first," mike maintains. "then we can go outside."

abby scrambles through her food, her eyes glued to the view outside. once she's cleared her plate she races to her room, pulling out all her layers for the snow.

the weather outside makes you miss the slight chill you'd felt while inside. abby doesn't seem to be bothered, launching herself into the snow immediately. you and mike watch her, light laughter hanging in the air until she begins attempting to build a snowman much larger than her.

although your fingers are beginning to go numb through your gloves, abby is more than proud of the snowman the three of you have built. you and mike feel very accomplished yourselves, adjusting the scarf mike had sacrificed.

the wind is beginning to bite through your multiple layers but abby insists that the level of snow is perfect for snow angels. and it is, pillowy snow cold against all of your backs, trying not to hit each other while you attempt to create perfect shapes.

you laugh as you watch abby and mike try to get up without ruining their snow angels, waiting for mike to stand over you and pull you out instead.

they're a little deformed, but they make abby smile.

mike still has a hold of you as abby runs off, the cold not quite gotten to her yet. you fold into mike, grateful for the little bit of warmth his arms provide.

mike cringes as your damp gloves hold his face but he can't bring himself to pull away. the low temperature has turned mike's cheeks a bright shade of pink, the same color creeping onto the tip of his nose. you'd like to take a picture of the way mike looks when he grins, lips a little chapped from the wind, gloved hands on top of yours.

you kiss mike's cheek and he laughs a little shyly. the color on his face deepens, no longer from the cold.

out of the corner of your eye, you see a ball of something coming towards you. naturally, you use mike as a shield.

abby giggles when her snowball hits her brother square in the chest and he groans, picking up a handful of snow to throw her way. you're quick to hide while mike is distracted, equipping yourself with a few snowballs to throw without being detected.

one finally lands, splaying snow all over mike's back. mike grabs another mound of snow, palming it into a lumpy ball as he watches for any sign of you. he catches a glimpse of your arm, not entirely hidden behind a tree, and mike charges.

"oh, you're next!"

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fanfiction #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #v + mike #v writes #v's 800 follower celebration

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Note

A part three of trying with Joseph talking about his baby girl at a convention >>>>

ahhh of course I have to!!

trying (iii) ~ joseph quinn x reader

part i | part ii

word count: 3.1k

warnings: implied smut (18+ only), basically just fluff, touch of angstiness and hurt/comfort

“So, you’ve been to this convention before, quite a few years ago, but something’s changed since last time,” the interviewer beamed, and Joe nodded in anticipation. “You’re a father!”

“Yes, that’s the latest development,” he smiled as the audience applauded and cheered briefly in recognition.

“How old’s your daughter now?” she asked.

“Um, she’s four and a half,” he recalled, “the ‘half’ is really important to her so I’m mentioning it. She’s really incredible— very smart, which she gets from her mother, and a total drama queen, which she gets from me.” There was a pause as the interviewer laughed politely, before Joe continued while reaching up to hold the back of his neck. “And, actually, I’ll take the time now to tell you all that we’ve got our second on the way.”

The applause was stronger this time; the interviewer seemed to get especially excited. “Oh! That’s incredible, congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Joe mumbled through his smile.

“Do you know yet if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Well, the first time ‘round we waited until she was born to find out, which was nice and all, but I think we were both a little stressed out about that much surprise this time— so yes, we do know,” he nodded.

“Aaaaand maybe you’ll tell us?” the interviewer pressed. That was when Joe turned his head to look at you, standing just off-stage.

Can I? he mouthed to you. You smiled and gave him a nod of approval. “Yes, alright, I will,” he decided, and a hush of anticipation befell the crowd. “We’re having a boy.”

He looked at you again, smiling wide, as everyone reacted enthusiastically. While there was something undeniably strange about thousands of strangers applauding your unborn child, you certainly appreciated their support— and hey, who can say that they were that popular before they were even born?

“How does your daughter feel about that?” the interviewer wondered.

“Oh, she’s ecstatic,” Joe laughed, “she’s actually rather upset that the baby can’t sleep in her room. I’m not sure she’s quite put together that this is not just, like, some highly advanced babydoll toy that’s just for her to play with. But yes, she’s looking forward very much to being a big sister.”

“That’s so sweet,” the interviewer cooed, “I’m sure she’ll be great.”

“We’re hoping so!” Joe agreed.

“Forgive me if this is a personal question, but I know it’s something on a lot of minds— I’m curious how you balance work with parenthood,” the woman wondered.

“Well, it takes a village,” he began, “and my wife’s sacrificed a lot to be the mother of my kids, so that effort is greatly appreciated, to say the least— we’ve both had to turn things down to be able to stay home, but we also have a fabulous nanny who provides extra support for us when we’re both working or traveling for some kind of something. This is going to be my last hurrah for a while before we both hunker down and just prepare for the new baby— the plan is to be, just, home all the time until he’s at least six months.”

“That should be nice! A break from working just to be with the family,” she smiled.

“It will be very nice, yes,” he agreed.

Joe had this incredible ability to make James laugh. His favorite way to do so was to shove his face into James’ belly and pretend like he was about to eat him— sounds stupid, sure, but it made James squeal and scream happily like nothing else. He would kick his little roly-poly legs around and grab at his dad’s hair or beard, without much luck. When he felt like mixing it up, Joe might grab one of James’ arms or legs and pretend to gnaw on one of those for a while; you couldn’t understand what James thought was so funny about it, but you didn’t need to. You could watch them together for hours.

“Look at you, Daddy’s big boy,” Joe was singing some made-up song to him now, bouncing him around on the floor, holding him under his arms so he could make him pretend to dance.

“You know, he might not enjoy being treated like a ragdoll,” you warned your husband, “or your horrible musical improv.”

“Nah, he loves it, see?” Joe insisted, showing you James’ completely neutral face. It was cute, though, the way his cheeks and neck were all squished up together from the way Joe was holding him. You snorted and sat down beside them on the floor. “Big boy Jamie’s six months old today…”

James’ eyes stayed on your face, and eventually he reached for you and Joe made a little pouty face. “Oh, you want me to save you from Daddy and his cruel, forced theater?” you laughed as you took him out of Joe’s hands, lifting him up as high as you could— he was getting fucking heavy already— before bringing him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Poor thing.”

“Mummy’s boy,” Joe frowned at him, sticking his tongue out and crinkling his nose. James clung onto you and Joe reached over to pet his head for a moment before Hope came running in from her bedroom.

“Daddy, look!” she beamed as she held up a drawing she’d made.

“Oh, wow!” he gasped as he admired it, gently pulling it from her hand so he could hold it steady and actually see what he was looking at. “What is it?”

“It’s a giraffe!” she explained. “But it’s pink!”

“I see it now— that’s the neck, right?” he pointed at a massive scribble. “Giraffes have long necks, huh…”

“Yeah!” she agreed excitedly. “And that’s its tail— and those are the spots— and those are its wings.”

“Er—” Joe began.

“My giraffe can fly,” Hope clarified.

“Oh, well, then yeah, he’ll need those,” Joe hummed.

“Daddy, she’s a girl!” Hope frowned. “A boy giraffe couldn’t be pink.”

“Yes he could,” Joe insisted quickly. “He could be any colour. I mean, I think a real giraffe would just be… giraffe-coloured… but being pink wouldn’t make him a girl.”

“Oh,” she sighed.

“But, this one’s a girl, good to know,” he nodded, “does she have a name?”

“Hmm… Blob,” she blurted out.

“Okay… Blob the flying, pink giraffe— should we put her on the fridge?”

“No, I want you to keep her,” Hope decided, “when you go away.”

Your heart twisted, and you saw the look on Joe’s face: the look of a man wondering if he’s failing as a father just because he has to leave for work for three months. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything, and you knew he was too busy going through his own crisis to notice that Hope was still waiting for affirmation. “It looks great, sweetie,” you informed her, “I’m sure Daddy will love to keep that with him on his trip.”

“Y-yeah,” he agreed, coming back to reality, “I will.”

He scooted a little closer to where she was standing, holding her head as he kissed her temple.

“You know I’m gonna miss you, right, lovebug?” he asked. She nodded, puffing up her cheeks a bit. “And Mummy’s gonna bring you to see me a few weeks after I leave.” She nodded again.

“Are you excited for flying on a plane?” you prompted her, and she smiled. “You haven’t been on a plane since you were little— not much older than your little brother is now.”

“Is little brother coming too?” she asked.

“Yeah!” you answered, pulling James off your chest for a second to look at his sweet, chubby face. “Yes, you’re gonna go on a plane to see Daddy! Yay!”

Joe was still a little out of it that night, laying his head on your chest as you read a book in bed. Again, you knew better than to press him on it, but you were having trouble focusing on the pages in front of you when you were just waiting for him to say what was on his mind.

“Babe?” he finally said, sitting up a bit so he could lay beside you and look at your face. You sighed with relief, setting the book aside and meeting his gaze.

“Hm?” you replied, pretending to have no idea what was coming.

“Should I go?” he asked— okay, to be fair, you hadn’t expected that, exactly. You thought he was gonna say that he felt bad about going, or that he wanted you to bring the kids more than once during his time filming in New York. You never thought he’d really consider pulling out of a project this close to production.

“Wh— of course!” you said quickly, sitting up a bit more yourself. “Joe, c’mon, this is a great film, it’s worth it.”

“Is any film worth leaving the kids here?” he groaned, falling back onto the pillow. “Three months… and you can only visit once. I mean, that’s a long time for Jamie. This is far from Hope’s first go-round with it, but will he even, like, remember me when I get back?”

“Don’t say that,” you frowned, rolling onto your side so you could rest your head on his shoulder. “Joe, you’re his father— he’s not going to forget you.”

He sighed— that sigh he made when he knew you were right but was wanting to be upset about it for a bit longer.

“Hey,” you breathed, reaching up to his face which you gently turned to look at you. “We’re gonna miss you. But we’ll be just fine… and we’ll be here when you get back, same as you left us.”

Shutting his eyes, he let you stroke his cheek and then scratch his beard a bit— which made him scrunch his nose up slightly. “Don’t wanna leave you at all,” he mumbled, “that’s my point.”

“It’s work,” you insisted, “it’s part of life. You get to be home all day when you’re not filming, how many jobs let you do that? It kills me when I have to leave, too, but it’s something we have to do.”

Joe grabbed you and pulled you into a tight hug, taking a deep breath beside your cheek as you returned his embrace. “Just… call me as much as you can, alright?” he requested quietly.

“Of course,” you agreed, holding him tighter.

“Fuck, m’gonna miss you too,” he groaned. “As if being away from my babies isn’t bad enough— now I’ve gotta leave my woman here all alone, too.”

You snorted a laugh as you pulled away from the hug. “Your woman? What happened to Mister Feminist who was explaining to Hope that her giraffe could be pink and male?”

“He’s still right here!” Joe laughed, raising his hands to his chest defensively. “And his woman’s gonna be so lonely without him around—”

“Shut up,” you groaned with a smile as you rolled away, but he slipped up behind you to be your big spoon.

“Don’t deny it,” he cooed, kissing your neck as he spoke, “you’re mine, love— and I’m yours, just as much. There— am I a feminist again?”

“Hmm, maybe,” you sighed, “but if you were a really great feminist you would… I dunno, go down on your wife or something.”

“Yeah?” he purred, kissing lower down until he reached your shoulder, guiding you to lay on your back. “A little goodbye gift, something to remember me by?”

“No, this is just for your gender equality points,” you explained. “All of your come inside me afterwards is what I’m gonna remember you by.”

He growled playfully and kissed you; you weaved your hands into his hair, and when he tried to start making his way south a little too soon, you whined quietly and pulled him back up to kiss you more. “Huh?” he mumbled.

“Not yet,” you breathed, and he obliged as he slowed down a bit— kissing you a little softer, pressing his body against yours. “I love you,” you reminded him.

“I love you too,” he returned. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You told Hope a thousand times not to run ahead of you, but guess what she did the second she laid eyes on Joseph, coming out of his trailer to greet you?

“Daddy!” she yelled as she ran straight into his arms, and he picked her up as he peppered kisses all over her face.

“Hey, lovebug,” he returned, and as you walked closer with James on your hip, you realized his eyes were watering. He rested his hand on the back of Hope’s head, holding her close and tight; you hadn’t intended on crying, but when you saw him get choked up…

He didn’t set her down for quite some time, until she was wiggling too much for him to hold anymore. James was reaching for him already, trying to lean out of your arms as if he didn’t understand that he would fall straight onto backlot asphalt if he got his way. Joe didn’t take him from you though— instead, he gave him a kiss in the head and then embraced you. You slipped one arm around his torso while still balancing James; he held you for a while, even after Hope had started tugging on the leg of his jeans to try to get his attention. When he did pull back, he cradled your cheek in one hand and kissed you— really kissed you, like he was a soldier who’d been off to war for six months and not just an actor who’d been filming in New York for six weeks.

You had to really be careful not to get too into it and lose your hold on James, but wow… it made you a little weak in the knees.

“Woah, slow down, Quinn,” a voice interrupted, and your cheeks warmed as you pulled away and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, looking at one of Joe’s costars standing nearby. “Better be careful ‘fore you end up with another one of those,” he warned, pointing at James, and you laughed.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Joe chuckled, “darling— this is Luke, we’ve been working together a lot for the past few weeks.”

“Which means I’ve been hearing about you, oh, a ton,” Luke grinned.

“Nice to meet you,” you nodded at Luke.

“And who are these two adorable little creatures?” he asked as he looked down at the children.

“Here’s Hope,” Joe announced proudly as he mussed with her hair, “and that’s my son, James.”

“How old are you, miss?” Luke asked Hope.

“Five!” she smiled.

“Oh! Must be getting ready to start school soon, then,” he assumed, and she nodded.

“She’s really looking forward to it,” you told him, and he looked up at you for a moment.

“Ah, I’m sure,” he agreed, “school’s the best.”

Luke was only the first of many cast and crew members to come over and dote on your kids for a while, and then to ask you all kinds of small talk questions while Joe just waited for however long they needed until he could shoo them away and have you all to himself.

“Guess they’re all excited to meet my family,” he mumbled to you as you both watched Hope get a ‘makeover’ from the make-up artists (which was mostly just glitter, everywhere), “I talked about you all so much.”

“So, it’s your fault that they’ve mobbed us?” you pressed, and he laughed quietly before giving you a kiss on your shoulder while he rubbed your other arm.

“Good news is, I’m sure they’ll be happy to babysit later,” he explained, “while we… talk, alone.”

“Talk, huh?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “We can talk about that picture you sent me last night, little tease…”

He nipped at your ear and you giggled. “Just something to hold you over before I got on the flight… in case you forgot how much I missed you.”

“Hold me over? Drove me crazy,” he sighed.

“How crazy?” you wondered.

“You’ll see,” he promised— and what a promising promise that was.

“One more, just one more?” he whined. “Darling, please—”

“You’ve already got two!” you reminded him, crossing your arms so hard that you made yourself bounce slightly on the mattress. “Two perfect kids who get along great already— we could mess up the whole ecosystem if we have a third.”

“But I want one,” he pouted. “I miss having a baby.”

“You miss that?” you laughed. “Being stuck at home, not working, burping and changing and feeding—”

“Yes!”

“They’ve only just gotten old enough for you to stop being upset every time you have to leave for a while,” you noticed, “now you’re planning to start all over?”

“But…” he mumbled, resting his chin on your lap as he blinked up at you, “but I want one…”

You rolled your eyes. “You already said that. You are so spoiled.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, straightening his back but still kneeling on the floor. “Yeah, I am spoiled. I have this amazing family, two beautiful kids and a sexy wife a-and a… hamster…”

You snorted. Hope’s pet hamster was a handful… literally, he filled about one palm, but he was also the latest little devil in the house, right after James who was going through a slightly destructive phase in his toddler years.

“And I just think it would be perfect if we had one more,” he decided.

“And I just think you need a puppy or something to keep you occupied,” you suggested instead.

“Nah, puppies are cute, but they never learn to talk or grow to resent you, where’s the fun in that?” he laughed, though he suddenly got a little more serious as he stood up straight and gently pushed you back onto the bed, climbing over you. “I bet if I ask really nicely, you’ll let me have another baby.”

“I’ll take that bet,” you grinned.

He kissed you, not for very long. “Please.”

“No.”

He kissed you again— longer, harder. “Please.”

“No.”

He kissed your neck, hungry and sloppy as you purred and spread your legs instinctively. “Please, love…” he whispered.

You shivered. “N-no…”

“I want another baby, darling,” he cooed, “I wanna get you pregnant again, I want my child inside you.”

You whimpered as he pressed his body down on yours. “Joe,” you breathed.

“One more baby,” he said soothingly, kissing down your chest, “one more precious little baby, all ours…”

“Joe,” you said again, halfway to a moan.

“Please?”

He looked up at you from where he’d stopped his path of kisses between your breasts, not just waiting for an answer— waiting for a yes. Cocky little shit. “Oh god,” you groaned as you shut your eyes, “I swear, Joseph, I’m not naming it Agatha…”

“Yes!”

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut

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cherrybeartoast · 4 months

Text

୨୧ a Cherry Song Series ୨୧ As Loved By The Aces Series Navigation

A series of individual-member centred stories based on songs by my favourite indie band, The Aces, portraying different love stories, emotions and people.

Pairing: Minho x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst, friends to lovers

Warnings: Minho is kind of an ass, miscommunications, crying, mentions of nightmares, anxiety and panic attacks

Series playlist: Spotify

★ Track 2: M.H - Attention

I'm tired of tearing you apart, know your heart has had enough, it's obvious, you're starved for affection, and you need more, and you need more, you need more attention

“Do you want a pudding?”

You didn’t reply, staring into space from where you were sprawled across the couch. Minho shrugged, picking his own up and rifling around the drawer for a spoon.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you stated.

Minho stopped in his tracks, the spoon he’d grabbed clattering onto the tiled kitchen floor almost comically, a stark contrast to the emotionless look on your face.

“What do you mean?” Minho picked up his spoon and ran a hand through his hair, walking towards where you were lying on the sofa. He moved to sit beside you, then thought better of it. He sat on the floor, looking up at you the way Soonie did when he wanted attention.

A tear rolled down your cheek, startling the both of you.

“You’ve been out of the house before I wake up and you’re tired and go straight to bed when you get home. Half the time you don’t even spend the night here. Felix’s joking about staying over here when you’re at theirs, so he can get a nice bed and some quiet to himself while you pay the rent.”

Minho’s breath caught in his chest. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's subconscious, or some shit. It’s not fair, though. I’m your best friend, and your roommate. I’m still doing your fucking laundry for you while you’re gone, even though you’re not here to cook for me, like our deal was. It’s so cold and quiet at night, and my nightmares have been worse. You know they get worse when you’re not here, Minho.”

He did know. He knew all of it. He knew what he was doing, he knew it was hurting you.

But why did he keep letting himself drift from you?

He knew why he did that, too.

“Well, if you’re not gonna talk to me, I’m going to bed. Enjoy your fucking pudding, Lee Minho. Turn the lights off when you’re done, and hang up your own laundry. I’m done.” You stood up, storming off to your bedroom, slamming the door.

He’d fucked it all up.

Three hours later, still in the same position on the living room floor, Minho heard crying.

It was quiet, and sounded muffled, which could’ve been the door, sure, but he was certain it was because you were trying to conceal it. Maybe the work of a pillow or your fluffy blanket, the one his cats were almost always perched on. He knew why.

The reason you’d found a roommate in the first place was because of your nightmares. You couldn’t sleep most nights, interrupted every few hours by vivid thoughts, a tight chest, and tears streaming down your face. Thoughts that wouldn’t fade, no matter how many TikToks you watched, how many cups of tea you sipped. Minho was your best friend, and he knew. He offered to move in. He comforted you at night.

He sacrificed a peaceful apartment on his own with his cats, enjoying his own company. He did it all for you, although he’d protest that it wasn’t a sacrifice at all.

But recently, since he’d been away so much, your sleep had been worse. In fact, you were pretty sure you were running on negative hours of sleep at this point. The worst part was, he wasn’t even busy. He just found excuses to be out of the house, out of your sight.

Minho knocked on your door.

“Are you fully dressed? Say something if you need to like, put something on.”

You didn’t reply, trying to suppress the hiccups that were slipping out of your throat.

“Alright, I’m coming in-oh, God.”

He’d never seen you cry like this before. Your cheeks were puffy and red, eyes glistening, still trickling with tears. Your breaths were uneven and shallow. He wanted to scoop you up and kiss every single part of you, even after the tears stopped, and then hold you forever.

“It’s not…a…nightmare,” you whispered between gasps. “I know…what…you’re thinking.”

“What's the matter then, baby?” Minho sat down beside you, rubbing circles into your cheek softly. He felt the way your cheeks burned at the nickname, biting back a smile.

“Missed you. I’m not good at being angry…I’m just sad. I can’t sleep, and I don’t want to rely on you so much…it’s not fair to you, and I feel bad-”

“Who said it’s not fair?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“I offered to move in with you. I knew what I was signing up for. I’m not sick of you, Y/N.”

You swallowed. “I thought you were fed up. That’s why you…kept avoiding me.”

“God, no. I preferred it when you were angry and blaming me earlier, Y/N, it made me feel less of an asshole, weirdly. I just…my feelings towards you have been a lot lately, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“That sounds like a very polite way of saying ‘Wow Y/N, you’re driving me fucking insane and I don’t want to be near you’,” you pouted. “Just tell me what’s going on, Minho.”

“I like you.”

Your heart thumped so hard you were sure he could hear it. Your hand moved on its own, pulling him down beside you. He landed awkwardly, then shuffled his limbs so he was leaning on his elbows, face above yours, eyes locked.

“I like you too,” you whispered. “That’s why I was scared I’d lost you for good.”

“I thought I’d lost you too, when you yelled at me earlier. You don’t usually cuss so much, baby, it scared me.”

“You called me that earlier. I like it.”

“Yeah? I’ll keep calling you that, baby, as long as you slap the shit out of me if I ever so much as ignore you again. I’m here, you know that right? No matter what. I’ll always be a friend.” he paused, biting his lip, not wanting to push further.

“Definitely not as a friend. You can’t just confess like that and play it off. No, say it properly,” you scolded, scrunching your nose playfully.

Minho rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but you didn’t miss the way his ears turned pink. “I’ll always be a friend, roommate, the best pasta chef in the univers-”

“Lee Minho.”

“-and yours.”

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years

Text

Sleep tight mon coeur (Charles Leclerc)

Charles does not enjoy being alone in a cold bed, even it means sacrificing some hours of sleep to see his smiley Y/N

Note: english is not my first language, I had this idea a few days ago and it really isn't anything big or anything like that, but I could just picture Charles doing this so... yeah... here it is

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: mentions reader having trouble sleeping

Charles had finally arrived home from one of his dinner meetings with a sponsor as you were in the bathroom washing your face, "In our bathroom!", you yelled back after he asked where you were, quickly getting inside the ensuite once he saw the open door, "How was your dinner?", you asked as you pat your face dry, "It was good, they have some ideas for for a commercial and we have to get a photoshoot done too, but it was a very productive dinner actually", he said happily. Smiling back at him through the mirror as he grabbed you from behind, doing an imaginary line of kisses on your shoulders, he appreciated the focus you had on rubbing the products on your skin before you noticed he eyes burning on you, "stop looking at me that intensely", you said, the blush on your cheeks no longer because of he products you had applied but instead from the shyness you suddenly felt. Pressing a final kiss to your forehead, Charles guided you both to the room so you could put your pyjamas on, his consisting of a t-shirt and shorts while you grabbed a pair of shorts to match the set of the thin strappy top you were already wearing.

Heading back to the bathroom to brush your teeth, you grabbed the elastic on your nightstand as you parted your hair in three, ready to start on your braid as you didn't enjoy sleeping wirh your hair on your face, "Can I do it for you?", you heard Charles ask out of the blue, "I want to try and make a braid on your hair", he smiled shyly. Not being able to deal with his cuteness, you grabbed his face and kissed him everywhere you could reach, "Of course you can bubs, here", you said as you handed him the elastic. For what you assumed was one of the few times he had done it, he was surprisingly good at it, "See? My mum doesn't even know what she's missing on my skills... maybe after I retire I can help her in the salon", he joked as he tied the elastic on the end of the braid.

"Thank you. Goodnight, mon ange, I love you so much", you said to Charles as you tried to snuggle further into his chest, your action being interrupted because of your boyfriend's movement, pulling his torso away from you as he spoke, "where's my goodnight kiss?", he pouted as you saw the hint of a smile in his eyes, "I'll give you all the night kisses you want", you said as you tilted your head upwards and gave him what he wanted.

Your sleep had been troubling you for a bit now, wether it was not sleeping enough, waking up at random early hours into the night or just not being able to be back asleep after randomly walking up at daft o'clock. And tonight, despite being in the warm comfort your boyfriend's arms provided you with, you still couldn't settle yourself. Deciding against forcing your sleep, you slowly got out of your boyfriend's embrace, not wanting to wake him up and made your way to the living room. Sitting on the sofa, you grabbed the TV remote as you chose a comedy program on your phone before streaming it on the big screen. You tried to keep your giggles as low as possible, grabbing the ends of the blanket you had thrown over your legs to muffle the sound, picking a new episode once the other one had finished when you heard some steps down the corridor. Looking at the door, you saw your boyfriend's messy bed hair as he sat next to you, "Did I wake you up, Charles? I'm sorry, I tried to be quiet, I'm sorry, my love", you said, scratching his slightly bearded cheek, "None of that, I woke up because I felt cold and then I didn't feel you in the bed either, I came here because I saw some light otherwise I wouldn't know where you were", he said truthfully, "Is there any problem? Are you good? Feeling well?", he asked as he did a quick check-up of your face and body, nothing wrong visible to him at least. You opened the blanket to cover his legs, wrapping you both in a cocoon shape as you laid your head in his chest, "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you from moving around so I came here to watch this, that's all", you replied before pressing a kiss to his chest. Charles stayed with you watching the rest of the episode, giggling with you at some of the jokes the humourist made about a recent political visit where one of the ministers had worded something the wrong way, resulting in a totally different interpretation of the matter in discussion, and watching you with love (and sleep) filled eyes, noticing the creases on your eyes as you laughed, the way your dimples were more prominent and how you had snuggled further into his chest as your giggles repercuted their vibration through to his heart.

After that episode finished, your eyes started feeling heavier as you yawned, "how about we try and get some sleep now? You seem like you need it too", he said as he held you in his arms, making his way back to the bed after you nodded and let him carry you.

Tucking you into your side, Charles got around the bed to his side as he got your body closer to his, noticing how you couldn't keep your eyes open for much longer, "Sleep tight, mon coeur, I love you", he whispered on your head as he felt your lips murmur something along the lines "I love you too".

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

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verycherry1 · 2 years

Text

Pike Roast. {Carmen Berzatto | Final}

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

an: Highly recommend listening to "I'm In Love With You" By The 1975 while reading this final piece. I hope when reading this chapter you experience the layers of falling in love and remembering the small moments you share when finding your person. Thank you for all the love you've submitted to this series and the confidence you've given me as a writer. Enjoy your closure with Carmy.

His palm reached for you, still half asleep. Patting around multiple spots on your side of the bed, his heart sunk when he discovered you already left for work.

He didn’t want to live in his head anymore, he wanted to exist in every moment with you. It’s not something he fully registered until you both “reconciled”. Or maybe Carmen just overstepped his own boundaries at this point.

Before, Carmen would have scolded you for disturbing his sleep. Reminding you he didn’t work a 9-5 like the rest of society. That his time was precious because his day started at 3:30pm and ended when the dish pit decided to finish up on time. Now, he wished you had interrupted his routine to kiss him goodbye or ask him to make your lunch before you fled. (Carmen always criticized you for Doordashing lunch to work)

He thought to himself maybe this was a slip-up, and that he didn’t convince you enough exactly how sorry he was. Or worse, you found your attention in the backwards hat man. Even while waking up in your bed, he couldn’t tame the nagging anxiety that tugged at his thoughts. There was no note, text, or any form of communication of reassurance that things were back to normal. That you and Carmen picked up exactly where you left off.

He considered showing up to your office with roses but the thought of how fucking tacky that sounded repulsed him. He knew he wanted to ask you to be his, only his. He felt so childish thinking of ways to ask you without actually having to ask. Carmen was so foreign to anything romantic, this was a new territory for him. The only way he knew how to put words in effect was through his craft, food.

Pizza. You fucking loved pizza.

He bolted out of your sheets when the idea came to him. His time was limited before you were on your way home but he knew that he could manage to whip up something. That was until he ransacked your entire kitchen for the ingredients. Nothing. Not even fucking olive oil.

Peaking over at the clock, he cursed silently when it mocked him you were off in 3 hours. That still wouldn’t be enough time to race to the store, let the dough rise, and prepare your favorite meal. He contemplated making your second favorite dish but you didn’t deserve second best. Carmen knew he was long overdue to treat you like his girlfriend. Like a real girlfriend. Label and all. (The thought of calling you his girlfriend made him chuckle for the first time)

He pushed any other alternative dishes aside, his heart raced at the idea of excitement you would have when you came home. That was more than enough for him to sprint (literally run like he was in a marathon with how much time was running out) to the nearest market to pick up the ingredients.

—

You were simple with your toppings which he mentally praised you for because the absolute diligence he was putting into the damn crust sacrificed more time than expected. (You loved the crust, he remembers the rant you went on about how criminal flatbreads and thin crust pizzas are.)

“It’s like… a second meal!” You hiccuped to him, dipping your crust in a garlic butter sauce he had whipped up for you at 2 am. He specifically remembers this night because somehow you charmed him into grabbing drinks with you after his shift. This was also the first official night he slept over when you revealed your display of coffee cup mugs from different cities you traveled to. He rolled his eyes at how ~*quirky*~ you were, teasing that at least it wasn’t a collection of shot glasses.

He placed his creation on the rack of the oven and then bolted towards your shower, praying you didn’t discard his body wash. Though, he was left disappointed when he realized you had by the time he had stepped inside and under the shower head.

That intense, heavy, feeling stalked his common sense. The idea of you throwing every trace of him away triggered his anxiety further.

What was he doing? This is stupid. He couldn’t persuade you to be his partner over a slice of pizza, not when he remembers how he treated you. Not when he knows someone could be so much more for you. His thoughts were swirling down the drain of your shower, his heart spiraling down with it.

Then the echo of your front door slamming shut startles him, dissolving his thoughts.

“Carmy?” Your voice calls out from the other side of your apartment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He quickly reached out from the curtain to retrieve a towel, swiftly draping it around his waistline as he jumps out of the tub. For the first time, it was him opening a door on you, eyes widened seeing your figure.

“What’re you doing here?”

“It’s..my apartment? I live here.”

He closes his eyes, realizing his format was out of context with what he was actually asking. “No, I know that. But what are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be off for another hour.”

You raise a brow at him, more so in shock, he was still here. Any other time Carmen would be under a tight schedule, telling you that he was too busy for downtime. “I took the rest of the day off, I was going to see..” you pause, finding yourself becoming somewhat distracted by the beads of water dripping from his hair down to his sculpted chest, you shake your thoughts back on track. “I was going to see if you were at the restaurant but Richie said you took the day off because you weren’t feeling well. Are you alright?”

Before he can answer you, the oven suddenly goes off at the most inconvenient time. You turn your back not even realizing it’s been on, let alone food has already been prepared for you.

“God dammit..” He whispers, gently brushing past you trying not to slip.

Completely flustered, and still soaked. He’s spewing his vomit of words to you about how he feels fine, that you weren’t supposed to be home just as of yet and how it was meant to be a surprise.

You can’t help but find yourself blushing at the sight of Carmen in a towel becoming frustrated you don’t own an oven mint. Slamming draws and cursing under his breath about how this is all going wrong, and this isn’t how it was supposed to go.

“So what’s the occasion?” You ask, watching him fling the pan onto the top of the stove with a rag.

He sucks in his cheek, embarrassed. Not only is he half naked but an absolute terrible romantic. “Doesn’t matter anymore, it’s fucking spoiled.” He grunts, hurrying back to the bathroom to hide but you’re hot on his heels.

“I think it smells delicious.” You reassure him, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah? Well, it’s on the house tonight, enjoy.” He tells you sarcastically, irritated he can’t find his boxers to cover up. “I’m sure your other boy toy will love it, I’ll be out of your hair shortly.” He mumbles, defeated.

With a furrowed brow, you push from off the door reaching for his arm with a gentle pitch. “Hey.. what’s going on?”

Your tender tone immediately seizes his anxiety, causing his emotions to spiral out of control. “This is why I don’t even fucking bother.” He tells you, absolutely restlessness. “I was brainstorming all afternoon on how to ask you out.”

“Ask me out?” You question, with a breathy laugh.

“Ask you to be my girlfriend.” He corrects you before continuing on his rampage of rambles not even realizing what he was saying because he’s so out of touch with reality on getting you to understand how anxious he’s been to perfect this moment.

Much like before, you hush his words by grabbing his face and pressing your lips to his. Still tense, he’s stuck momentarily. Mostly confused by your sudden urge to be so.. understanding. No matter how many mistakes Carmen made, it was a mystery to him why you were so forgiving with him. Let alone wanting to kiss him.

You release his face, finding his eyes. “Yes, chef.” You tell him.

Cocking his head, as if you hadn’t confused him enough, you can’t help but blush at his inexperience with this new territory. “Yes, chef. I will be your girlfriend”

—

It’s a memory that still sticks with you even when you finally get to flash the shiny cut rock around your left finger. How the Carmen Berzatto, Food & Wine’s Best New Chef, and owner of the successful restaurant, The Bear is capable of stressful environments but asking you to be his girlfriend. To be fair, it did gave him practice when asking you to be his fiancé 3 years later. (Kind of, we won’t mention how he dropped the ring while purposing because of how sweaty his hands were)

{Trying to practice my cursive B’s, it’s a lot harder than you think.}

C: {Wanna practice over Pike roast? Wanted your approval on the wedding menu before I sent it over to Syd.}

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