#does it even count??? too bad we got this gif set anyway

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Walk The Line.

Carmen gets a little jealous. You don’t mind in the slightest.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. semi public antics.

word count - 2.5k

authors note - ask and you shall receive 😌. i’ll never get enough of roommate!carmy. i’ll be writing him forever. <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

He’s a little out of his depth, admittedly.

The invitation had been slid under your front door, pretty handwriting on creamy paper.

“A… party?”

“Does it say party, Carmen?”

“No, it says ‘mixer.’ What the fuck is a mixer?”

You laugh, scrubbing a mark off the final dish in the sink before placing it down in the drying rack. Carmy is sat on the counter across the kitchen, reading the invite over and over.

“Seriously, babe. The fuck does mixer mean? So it isn’t a party?”

You dry your hands and make your way over to take the paper from him, eyes scanning over it carefully.

“A mixer is like… a get to know each other thing. It’s sort of like a party, I guess, but not really. Just a casual gathering type situation.”

“Sounds fucking stupid,” he grumbles.

You smack his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

“Lighten up, asshole. It could be fun.”

“Fun? You think having a mixer with all the neighbours from our building on a Friday night is gonna be fun?”

“I think it sounds like an incredible time. My ideal evening. I can’t wait.”

You can’t even pretend not to laugh, grabbing onto his thigh to keep yourself balanced. He puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to look serious, but the grin fighting its way up his cheeks gives him away.

“You really wanna go?”

“Carm, if it’s terrible, we’ll just lie and say we’ve got plans elsewhere. We’ll run away screaming if we need to. It might be good for us though, to meet our neighbours properly. It’s good to get to know them, just in case we ever need anything.”

“What, like a cup of sugar? What is this, the thirties?”

“When you’re testing recipes and fucking them all up, you might be grateful to be able to nip next door and borrow a cup of sugar.”

“I don’t fuck recipes up.”

“No? Then why were you yelling at a lavender and oat crème brûlée last week?”

“It was mocking me,” he grumbles under his breath, hanging his head.

You can’t help but laugh, moving closer to stand between his manspread legs where he still sits on the counter. You brush a piece of hair back from his forehead, tracing your index finger in a featherlight touch down the bridge of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes glued to yours.

“I know for a fact you don’t have anything else planned on Friday,” you whisper.

He rolls his eyes but leans into your touch anyway, where you’re still tracing along the features of his face.

“You promise we can leave if it’s terrible?”

“We literally live in this building. We can just walk up the stairs and be home.”

He huffs, but relents.

“Fine. But please don’t leave me alone with all of the middle aged moms. They love me.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you giggle, leaning in to rest your head on his chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you as close as he can.

Is this scene too intimate for roommates? Without a doubt.

Do either of you care? Not in the slightest.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s not as bad as he thought it’d be.

The middle aged moms have pulled through, actually. The lobby is decorated with fairy lights, tables covered in alcohol set up against the walls. Everyone has a drink in their hand, chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

You and Carmen walk downstairs a little late. He’d finished his shift and run home to shower and make himself look semi presentable before facing the neighbours.

“We need a signal,” he says suddenly, right as you reach the staircase. “In case of emergencies.”

“Pat your head.”

“Real subtle.”

“It doesn’t need to be subtle, it needs to be noticeable for me.”

“Fine,” he mutters, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Don’t leave me alone with that Erica lady. She scares me.”

“Yes sir,” you mock salute, slipping your hand into his momentarily. “You’ll be fine, Carmen. Like I said, we’ll just leave if it’s awful.”

It’s not awful, actually. It’s quite fun.

It’s nice to get to know the people in your building, seeing as you have lived there for a couple of years now. Carmen has been there even longer.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?”

You turn around to be met with an old lady, leaning carefully on her cane.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m Dorothy. I live in 2B, and I just had to tell you that you look beautiful in your dress.”

You smile, pulling out a chair for her, which she takes gladly. You sit down next to her, spotting Carmy chatting with a couple of guys across the room.

“Thank you so much!”

You introduce yourself, telling her your name and apartment number.

“Ah yes,” she hums in recognition. “You live with your boyfriend who has all the tattoos.”

You almost choke on your drink.

“We’re just roommates,” you say eventually. “But yes, that’s him.”

“Oh, my apologies. I just assumed.”

You’re curious, suddenly. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help yourself.

“Can I ask? Why you… thought we were dating?”

She chuckles knowingly before placing a hand on your knee.

“Honey, he’s got a hand on you at all times. He looks at you like you are the sun. Every time you walk past my window, you’re both laughing. Sounds like love to me.”

Her bluntness is refreshing, if not a little intimidating. No one will say it how it is more than a little old lady who can’t mind her business.

“We, uh… we’re close. He’s a good roommate. A good friend.”

She doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, chuckling as she pats your leg.

“Uh huh. That’s what I said about my husband - real good friend. We’ve been married 58 years.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“Is he here with you?”

“He’s upstairs. He can’t really leave the apartment, these days.”

“You know, if you ever need anything, me and Carmen would be happy to help.”

“No, sweetheart, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“-you’re not asking me, I’m offering. Carmen is an award winning chef at one of the best restaurants in this city. He’d be more than happy to make a meal or two when needed. And I can pick you guys up stuff from the grocery store when I go, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, grabbing your hand in her frail one. “You’re good kids, you two.”

You grin at her, squeezing her hand gently.

“You know where I am, if you need me.”

She nods, standing up carefully.

“I’m going to go see if that handsome Jeremy will come and fix my shower for me. He did promise.”

You laugh, watching as she makes a beeline for one of the dads stood in a huddle. You catch eyes with Carmy, who’s still chatting away with a few of the younger guys. He winks at you, all cheeky and carefree, and you can’t help but flush, heat prickling across your skin. You shake your head, smiling, winking back.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your bicep. You spin sideways, to be met with the sight of a very handsome man. Dark hair, big brown eyes, tall - he looks slightly like a movie star you can’t quite remember the name of. You crane your neck to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

He holds out his hand to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Daniel.”

You tell him your name, trying to ignore how his hand engulfs yours.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Have you lived here long? Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Now he shakes his head.

“A month, maybe. I live in 6C. I’ve been working a lot, so haven’t had any time for introductions.”

“Ah. What do you do?”

“I’m a model.”

Of course he is.

“What do you do?”

As you start to tell him, his eyes fix on yours, not leaving for a moment. He listens carefully, both of you blocking out the noise and focusing on each other.

Turns out, Daniel is good company. The two of you find a spot in the corner, away from the noise and the wine drunk moms. The two of you laugh, joke, and talk about Chicago as if you’re old friends. Time slips away from you easily, conversation flowing with minimal effort.

“I don’t want to leave, trust me… but I have a super early call time tomorrow. If you wanted, we could grab a drink sometime, somewhere that’s not our buildings lobby?”

You laugh, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that. It was nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“You too. Here,” he says, handing you a small business card with his number on, “text me.”

“I might do just that,” you tease as he walks away grinning.

You’re on your way to grab another drink when a hand slinks around your wrist.

“Hi, Carmen.”

You don’t even have to turn to know who it is, recognising the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft skin.

“Where’s your friend gone?” he all but grumbles.

“He’s gone home, got to be up early for work.”

“Haven’t we all.”

“Ooo, okay Mr Attitude. You’re not having a good night? You didn’t give me the signal.”

“Would you have noticed if I did?”

You spin around to face him properly now.

“Yes, I would have. Because we’re in a tiny fucking lobby and not a football stadium, Carmen.”

He huffs.

“Didn’t think you’d notice if the building fell down, the way you were lost in his eyes.”

“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Carmen, but eye contact is actually a very important part of conversation. Try it some time.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Wanna show you something.”

He practically drags you up the stairs, and up some more, and up some more. Eventually, you reach the roof.

The sun is just setting, casting the city in a warm orange glow. Everything is so calm, so peaceful, so serene. It’s beautiful.

You’re admiring the view when suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Carmy has you over his shoulder, carrying you across the rooftop to the brick wall.

“The fuck are you doing?” you cry as he finally puts you down.

He smashes his lips to yours, choosing to shut you up rather than answer you. You kiss back eagerly, confused but not disappointed at the turn in events. Slipping your hands into his hair, you tug him into you, groaning as he grabs at your ass.

“Carmen,” you breathe, “why don’t we just go home?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. When he bites down, you smack his shoulder.

“No marks, asshole. The fuck is up with you?”

Again, he says nothing, just slips his hand under your dress to run his fingers over your underwear. You part your legs instantly, leaning back into the wall to steady yourself.

“Carmen, someone’s gonna see if they come up here.”

“Well then you better come quickly.”

He slips your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat. You keen, knees buckling already.

“Oh baby,” he chuckles. “This all for Daniel?”

It all clicks for you suddenly.

“That’s what-” you choke as he slides a finger into you. “That’s what - fuck - has you so riled up? Daniel?”

“Don’t say his name when I’m knuckle deep, baby. It’s rude.”

You attempt to scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan when he presses his thumb to your clit, circling carefully.

“Am I not giving you what you need, honey? Is that it? Greedy girl just wants more, so she looks elsewhere to get it?”

“No,” you justify quickly. “You know that’s not true.”

“If you can still form sentences, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

He slips a second finger in, curling them exactly the way he knows you like.

“Carm.”

“He couldn’t make you feel like this, babe. You and I both know it.”

You’re nodding, fingers gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re scared he’s going to walk away. His lips press into your neck again, nipping along the expanse of skin.

“Say it.”

“Hmm?”

You’re dazed, mind hazy with Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen.

“Say. It.”

He punctuates his words by curling his fingers harshly. You’re seeing stars, legs giving out.

“He - he… fuck, Carmen, please.”

“So close, honey. Try again.”

You know he won’t relent. He never does, when he’s in a mood. You have to just give him what he wants.

“He couldn’t make me feel this good, Carm. It’s all for you, only you.”

“Good girl. Knew you could do it.”

With that, he speeds up his fingers, his other arm snaking around your back to keep you standing upright.

“Give it to me, baby. Know you want to. That’s it, atta girl.”

“Come for me, there we go. Can feel you.”

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. So pretty like this.”

You fall over the edge, clenching like a vice around his fingers as you throw your head back. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin, chest heaving with every breath you take. Your vision goes white for a second, gripping onto Carmy’s biceps for dear life.

You rest your forehead against his chest, panting as you try to recover.

“Jealous Carmen is kinda mean,” you mumble into his shirt.

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right? You’re free to date whoever you want. You could do a lot worse than Daniel the hot supermodel.”

You pull back, looking at him carefully.

“I know. I just… I don’t know if I’ll go. Seems a bit unfair to date him when my mind is on someone else.”

You both know exactly who you mean. You both also know that tipsy on a rooftop is not the place to have that conversation.

“Did you ever master the lavender crème brûlée?”

He chuckles, not expecting the sudden change in subject.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do we have any left?”

“We don’t. But I did make chocolate soufflé this afternoon, if that’ll satisfy your sweet tooth.”

“Fuck, yes,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

“I’ll make you a crème brûlée in work tomorrow. Promise.”

“Will you make two extras?”

He quirks a brow in confusion, so you continue.

“We’ve got two elderly neighbours. They’re not very mobile, so I said we’d drop stuff off every now and again.”

He smiles at you, all soft and melted.

“Of course. That heart of yours is too big for your chest, you know.”

You take hold of his hand, placing it there.

“Only sometimes.”

He kisses you again before throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“Let’s go eat chocolate soufflés and drink the rest of that wine you bought.”

“You’re a mind reader,” you laugh, making your way downstairs.

Maybe he is, you think later. You don’t mind in the slightest.

#roommate!carmen berzatto x reader #roommate!carmen berzatto #roommate!carmy berzatto x reader #roommate!carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader fluff #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader fluff #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear smut #the bear x reader #the bear fluff #the bear imagine #and they were roommates

[imaginaryf1shots]

Fan Favourite Moments | Lewis Hamilton

Words count:

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summery: just some of the fans favourite moments of you and Lewis.

warning: not edited, none

Masterlist

Kissing in the rain

This race week is set in Spa and the weather condition isn’t the best, it’s forecasted to rain a lot as you go through weekend, but at the moment it’s sunny. The sun is up that it makes you think that there’s noway it’ll rain but you’ve been to too many races and places to know that. Mother nature is very indecisive with mood swings so bad you want to know if she’s okay. Anyways Lewis hasn’t done his track walk yet, so he went around looking for you, finishing you in a corner in the garage with Susie, she was telling you about her plans with women in sport and what they’re working on to change their role in the sport.

You looked concentrated, you were so into the conversation he almost felt bad for breaking the conversation, but if you wanted to come with him then now’s the best time to go and take advantage of the weather. You were already dressed in running shoes and sports trousers ready for the walk, you talked about the day before.

“Sorry to interrupt, but (y/n) do you wanna come on a track walk with me?” Lewis asked if you changed his mind, that’ll be okay with him even if he wanted you to come. It’s been a couple weeks since you last saw each other because of schedule conflict.  

“Go,go, we’ll continue talking later.” Susie said straight away waving you off. “We spend most of the time together anyway.”

“Okay, but we’re definitely continuing later.” Waving bye to her, you lace your hands with Lewis, as you leave the garage.

“Here I got you this.” Lewis said and gave you a jacket he had in his other hand, you let go of his hand and he helped you put it on, it’s one of his jackets that were waterproof, but provided warmths. 

“Thanks.” You say with a satisfied smile, Lewis smiled down at you, he found you so cute with you engulfed in his jacket looking cosy and warm. Lacing your hands once again you start your walk down the pitlane and the track. It wasn’t the most athletic walk, you were just walking at a slow pace. You were telling Lewis about how his fans turned you into a grid mum online, gathering all the cute moments you had through the years you’ve been with Lewis. You were very animated as you told him about the memes and what not, even showing him a couple that you saved on your phone. It was over halfway through the track that it started to get gloomy and dark. “So much for the sun.”

“To be fair if we walked faster we would’ve been done by now.” Lewis said looking up at the sky as you walked, the clouds were dark and heavy looking.

“True but I like having those slow walks with you, especially when we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” You pout as you say this, Lewis wraps his arm around your shoulder sideways, and yours goes around his middle.

“I do too, you know some would argue that two weeks aren’t that long of a time to not have seen each other.” Lewis said and you shake your head scoffing. “I’m not saying that, because you know I hate spending a day without seeing you.”

“You know that some wou;d argue that that’s not healthy and that this is attachment issues.” You fire back and Lewis laughs, you fight the smile creeping onto your face. “I’m not saying that, I for one love that, my only complain is that sometimes I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me.”

“And you love your sleep.”

“I love my sleep.” you felt it then the first drop hitting your face making you flinch slightly, looking up, it’s like heavens doors just opened and you’re both wet in seconds, pulling up your hood, Lewis does the same, you could see the pitlane from where you walked. “We should hurry up.”

“Wait for a second.” You were confused, Lewis stopped walking and held your wrist to halt your walking before you faced him, he had his head tilted back, eyes closed, clearly enjoying the rain.

“Lew, you can get sick my love.” You warn him thinking of his health. 

“Just a moment.” He answered, your worry visible on your face but he couldn’t see it with his eyes closed. You take in the peaceful look on his face, and find yourself smiling. This Lewis is your favourite Lewis, the one only you and close friends and family get to see. Slowly you move your arms around his middle pressing yourself against him, but your head was back to look at your boyfriend. Lewis opens his eyes and looks at you, water was running down your hoodie and you both were getting wetter and wetter. However you looked so good to him right now, so carefree and smiley. 

So you can't blame him for not resisting, his hand cups your cheek before he's pulling you in for a kiss. You squeak surprised, Lewis is a very private person and isn't big on PDA, so kissing while there are cameras possibly around is usually a thing when he's winning. You don't hesitate once you get over the shock to kiss him back your hands holding his jacket tighter. The kiss doesn't last long, and it isn't a deep kiss but it was filled with love and passion. It left you warm and tingly, with butterflies in your stomach, how he still gives you butterflies after all those years you'll never know. 

Cameras catch the kiss from the pitlane the long lenses capture the moment between you two. And even though you hate how much cameras are always in your face the pictures from that day you have saved on your phone.(maybe even framed in your Monaco house? 

Training

It really was just a  series of videos he posted to his story.

Story 1. He told his fans that you were going to try and train like him, you could be seen in the background stretching in your gym wear.

Story 2. It was easy, just some cardio, you were all smiley giving the camera thumps up and everything.

Story 3. You move to goblet squats, you’re again doing okay no thumps up but you’re okay.

Story 4. Deadlifts. Of course all the training you’re doing is fitted for your body and your limits, but you don’t really do deadlifts while you’re in the gym. So you’re frowning while LEwis is hyping you up, you managed to do them but sweat is appearing faster and faster now.

Story 5. It starts with you complaining that you can’t even do press ups, much less dumbbell press ups. Yeah… you only managed to do five and Lewis was generous with his counting. 

Story 6. You’re laying on the ground breathing heavily and refusing to move. You glare at Lewis when he tells you what you have to do next. 

Story 7. You’ve given up, sitting on the ground, your back to the wall, knees bent and your water bottle in your hand. Lewis was amused but he praised you for what you’ve done. 

Helmet kiss

You didn’t mean for it to happen, it wasn’t planned really. But you found yourself kissing Lewis’ helmet every time you were at a race from the start of your relationship. After and before every race it just became something that you always did. He’d have his visor up and you could see his eyes in a smile. It was something for the both of you, for you to show Lewis that you’re proud of him, that you’re there for him, even when he didn’t win or wasn’t on a podium you always kissed his helmet or him to be honest, if there were cameras or there weren't any.

Getting pulled in an interview by the reporter

Media days, usually are the days you spend the most time with Lewis on track. All the time between interviews and breaks he had, it gave you enough time, and you were able to stand with the Merc staff behind camera and watch him.

And so here you are, media day after a week off between racing, Lewis was pulled into an interview in pitlane, you were standing off camera watching him with his PR manager.

“We just saw you last week at Milan fashion week,” The interviewer said, just last week you both were in Milan and attended a few shows and walked a couple red carpets together. “Along with your girlfriend y/n, are times like this you spend destressing or just taking time off away from racing”  

“I mean yeah, it’s always fun to spend time away and have a break and it’s something we’re both interested in.” Lewis kept it short and sweet, but the interviewer had other things on her mind.

“You both looked amazing, actually we have y/n here.” She said and the camera turned around and panned to you, you had a startled look on your face for a split second before you smiled and waved to the camera. “Come here y/n, come on.”

Timidly you walked to your boyfriend’s open arm, you wrapped an arm around his waist, while his rested on your back. 

“y/n tell us, you spend so much time on the road with Lewis, what is something that you both like to do that helps you take a break from formula 1?”

“Uh, I don’t know, because once we’re off track we usua;;y just do something fun and don’t think much about formula 1.” You looked at Lewis for confirmation and he gave you a smile of encouragement. “It’s our way of not letting it consume us, and I do a lot of my work on the road as well, so we just have time off around the races and do something we like.” 

“That’s lovely, it’s great to have some stability in each other, lewis?”

“Definitely, having y/n with me gives me a sense of stability, and just having her with me helps me a lot.” You just couldn’t fight the smile on your face hearing his words, because you both sacrificed so much for his job, and if there is ever moments where you’d think maybe it’s too much or you can’t push back any of the things you want in life, you remember how happy you are with him and how sacrificing some things is okay, every relationship has some sacrifices and you’re okay with that. The highs are really good and you’ve managed to go through all the lows together, the support you have for the other is really one of the foundations to your relationship.

Driving

It’s a well known and documented fact that you can drive, and you love driving and that you’re actually a very good driver. But no matter what you’re not a super car driver. Mercedes thought it’ll be good idea to film a video of you driving a car in Silverstone, with Lewis in the passenger seat before you switch. 

You’re not used to being in those kind of things, yes you have sealed with your fair share of paparazi and media but not in a video where you had to be miked up and everything. So you were a little nervous, Lewis saw your eyes as they ran over all the cameras and filming crew, your eyes were the only indication that you were nervous. Walking up to you he smiles, you were dressed in a Mercedes race suit, matching his. Even your helmet was the same as his, he had it made for you. 

“Are you okay?” Lewis asked you, shielding you away from everyone’s view. 

“Yeah, just a little nervous.” You mumbled and pouted as you looked up at your man leaning into him slightly, Lewis pulled you in for a hug.

“It’s okay, the moment you want to end this and not film just tell me and we’ll end it.” Lewis reassured you, he wouldn't want to pressure you into doing anything you didn’t want to do. 

“No, I’m powering through this, nerves never stopped me before.” You winked at him and smiled, you remembered the first time you met Lewis how nervous he made you it almost made it hard to talk to him but you pushed the nerves aside and talked to him and here you are now, so happily in love. 

You got called to start filming, both Lewis and you stood next to each other in front of the camera, as someone introduced you.

“Driving with Lewis is his girlfriend, (y/n) (l/n)!” You smiled and nodded to the camera trying to keep your cool, Lewis placed a comforting hand on your back. “(Y/n) will take a turn driving around the track first before they switch and Lewis will drive.”

“Am I allowed an out lap to get the track?” YOu asked raising a hand, you’ve walked it before with Lewis, but you haven’t drove it.

“Sure.”

With that you got in the driver’s side and LEwis in the passenger. “This is familiar.” You say once you were in, meaning that you almost always drive when it’s the two of you. 

“Let’s go!” Lewis was excited, he wanted to see what you got. You never sped up or drove over the speed limit, so seeing you driving fast is going to be something new to him. 

“You have to give me some tips.” YOu said as you turned on the car and started driving, you were taking it easy not fast and not slow, a happy 80km/h. Lewis then pointed to where you should break where you can speed up. Once you had a lap around the track, your actual lap started. 

Speeding up, you were so focused on the road in front of you. “Break here, here.”

“You go, love.” “Speed up!” “Babe that was amazing.”

You laughed as you slowed down for the end of the lap, Lewis held his palm up and you high fived him. “We should get you a seat at Mercedes.”

“Shut up… this was super fun.” You said unbuckling your seat belt and opened the door before you two switched places. 

“Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

You were not ready, Lewis pressed his foot down on the paddle and off you were.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” For some reason you didn’t expect the car to go that fast. At least not that fast straight away. You clutched the door and the seat tightly your knuckles turned white. Lewis was laughing. “Lewis!”

“Hold tight.” He said before he pulled the handbrake and turned, your body was pushed to the side of the car, making you scream. 

“Lewis, lewis, lewis, babe, please-aaah.” He was showing off, he was, breaking late, accelerating faster, using the car as if he was racing and in his F1 car.

“Okay, okay.” He slowed down for a bit, and you sighed in relief, Lewis looked at you grinning.

“I’m not going to even tell you to look at the road.” You muttered shaking your head, Lewis laughed before pressing his foot down and once again you went flying down the track. 

By the end of the TWO laps, you knew one thing for certain. “This is why I drive us around and not you.” 

Road-trip 

It's a well known fact that Lewis hates driving when he's not racing, He's said it before a million times. So all the cars the both of you own are basically your cars. Lewis is a passenger princess and you absolutely love it. 

Even though you have your own money and make a good living, Lewis loves spoiling you and doing everything in his power to make it so you need nothing, craving some dessert you have in Italy you got it. Saw some bag in the passing and asked him what he thinks about it, you got it. Want to try a new hobby, you got the top of the art supplies. Anywhere you want to just think it and he'll book it straight away. Its not that you can't do all that, he just loves spoiling you, simple as that. And its not to say that you don't spoil him as well, but there's something about driving him around that makes you so happy. 

"Let's go princess." You called out the car, the windows were down, and Lewis was checking that you had everything you needed before you hit the road. The GPS was already set up, your sunglasses were on and you were itching to get going. 

"Haha, just making sure we have everything." Lewis said before he got in the car, he had his glasses on, you both were dressed very casually, you'll be in the car for a while so looks weren't important. "You look so happy." 

You couldn't help the smile on your face as you pulled from the building. "Yeah, you know I've been wanting to do this for a couple years now."

"I'm glad you're happy." Lewis said with a smile. They can now relax after a long season flying and being everywhere, Lewis thoughts its the best time to have a road trip from your home in Monaco to the UK. As much as Lewis hates driving on normal road with normal speeds you love it, this idea has been on your mind for years, so the moment Lewis suggested that you do it you jumped at the chance. 

Driving through France and seeing the country from a different perspective than what the both of you are used to, and just spending time with him away from everyone else for a few days.

The music was on and you both had your windows down and singing softly along to the music. Lewis took a few photos of you, he couldn’t help but wanting to document the trip.

You guys made the 14 hour drive into a three or four day drive, spending afew hours on the road, before staying in a hotel/inn and going around sight-seeing. Both of you were severely underdressed than your usual selves, sporting sunglasses and hats to keep a low profile. Your hard effort did in fact pay off, no one was the wiser, and having a less known name than Lewis everything was booked under your name.

Lewis did post a few things on his insta story, making the fans go crazy. 

The first story he posted was from where you were singing, your hair flying everywhere, and he was hyping you up, the video ended with you both laughing. Both sounding and looking so happy.

The second picture was a selfie of himself enjoying being a passenger prince. He captioned the picture with a best passenger❤️

The second day you posted a picture of Lewis changing one of the tires, followed by a short video showing you in the middle of the countryside, with nothing to be seen around you. Honestly all of the content the fans were fed during the trip was enough to keep them satisfied for a while, before they were starved once again.

Lewishamilton

caption: here we go!!

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lewishamilton A trip I'll always remeber

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#lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #formula 1 fanfic

[weirdmorefics]

I think I got mugged... Carmen Berzatto X reader

Reader's pronouns- (She/Her)

Word Count- 2,063

Summary- Reader gets mugged on her way to work and tries to act like it is no big deal but Carmy forces her to sit down and patches her up.

"Y/N why the hell are you so late? We are slammed! Carmy's losing his ever-loving mind!" Richie shouts at me before I even fully step through the door.

"Shh. You are being so loud right now," I groan while holding my head.

Richie looks at me and grimaces," Woah you look like shit!!"

"Thank you that's exactly what every woman wants to hear. You must be drowning in ladies." I roll my eyes because I am well aware I look like shit I don't really need to hear it.

"Ha ha Y/N you are so funny... but seriously are okay?" Richie fake laughed then looked at me seriously.

"Yeah... I think I got mugged or something... but it's chill," I mumbled a tad embarrassed because I may or may not talk a big game of being tough.

Richie's jaw dropped and he shouted "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK YOU WERE MUGGED! YOU WERE EITHER MUGGED OR NOT MUGGED!"

At this loud statement, courtesy of Richie Carmy peeks his head out of the window and Sydney comes out to check on guests.

Sydney pauses what she's doing and concernedly says "Y/n are okay?" Then proceeds to shout as well "Is that blood!"

I touch my head and feel the warm wetness on my head, "I suppose it is.. can we just stop the shouting though so I can finish walking in the door and actually help with the rush."

Carmen is instantly rushing out of the kitchen at the statement, "There is no way you are working today!"

"I swear I am fine! I will clean up in the bathroom and get right to work." I attempt to walk away but fail miserably as Carmen instantly grabs my arm.

"Bullshit you are not fine! You are bleeding from your head! If you won't take care of yourself I will do it for you. Sydney cover for me!" Carmen seethed so hard I thought smoke would blow out of his ears.

Sydney responds "Yes, Chef." I mouth I am so sorry as Carmen drags me to the back office.

"OOO Carmy is mad," Richie drags out like a high schooler watching a school fight.

"Shut the fuck up, Richie!" Carmen shouts not even looking back.

I clamp my mouth shut and Richie laughs "Good luck Y/N! I'll beat the mugger up for you though if Carmy doesn't get to him first."

I glare at Richie and I kind of blame him for the whole restaurant finding out I was mugged.

Carmy slams the office door open and basically forces me to sit down without saying a single word. I watch him silently as he mumbles profanities and makes a mess looking for something. After tearing half the office apart he pulls out a first aid kit. He shines a flashlight annoyingly close to my eyes and grumbles for me to follow the light.

I chuckle slightly and ask, "What are you a doctor now?"

He simply glares at me and does not say a word. "Um.. are you mad at me for getting mugged? I mean trust I am mad too I lost fifty bucks I am just glad I only had cash on me and not my wallet. I just don't see why you are mad."

He sets the flashlight down and looks at me like I am an idiot. "Are you serious? You do not know why I am mad? Also, you are concussed so you are not working and I am driving you home."

"What! I am so not concussed they barely even pushed me! Can you even diagnose me with a concussion?" I tried to stand up and walk away from him but was instantly pushed back down in the chair.

"I need you to let me take care of you for once," He said like it was no big deal at all but it made me blush so bad. He did not acknowledge it and poured some alcohol on a towel and cleaned the dry blood off the side of my head.

"You know I'd give you a ride to work anytime," he whispers as he puts my hair behind my ear.

"You being all nice now is giving me serious whiplash. I don't mind taking public transportation anyway and my apartment is literally in the opposite direction from yours I could never ask you to go out of your way to just drive me to work. If you are not going to let me work I will just walk home." I went to stand up again and once again pushed back down.

"Let me get my keys I'll drive you home it is not a question. I will drive you to work when you are healthy enough again. Can't have you getting hurt again." he said bossing me around. This time he noticed my blush and quickly added to the statement " Can't have you getting hurt because we can't afford to lose an employee I mean... just stay put let me get my keys."

As soon as he left the office I stood up and sneaked out to the kitchen.

"Hey Marcus what are you working on," I said in a sing-songy voice. He showed me a wide variety of donuts he was taste-testing for his new donut recipe. I instantly took one and started to help him determine the best ones. Then we both heard Carmy shouting "Y/N where did you go? I thought I told you to stay put!"

I hold my head and groan "What crawled up his ass today?"

"Well, maybe the fact you got mugged and he is obsessed with you?" Marcus says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I laugh at him "Shut up I may be concussed but I am not gullible. "

"You may not be gullible but you are certainly oblivious. Better go your boyfriend is still calling for you." He teases as I roll my eyes.

"I am taking a donut because you are being mean," I say and steal my favorite donut out of the batch.

I walk out of the kitchen while taking a bite of my donut and am greeted by a glaring Carmy. "I thought I told you to stay put."

"You did I just didn't listen," I tease.

"Come on we are leaving. Richie behave, Sydney please hold down the fort." He says and Sydney responds with a yes chef and of course, Richie mocks her.

We go outside and Carmy opens the passenger door for me, "Wow a gentleman."

"Thanks, I can be sometimes," He smiles as he gets in the car.

We sat the majority of the ride in silence he still seemed mad at me and I couldn't stop thinking about what Marcus said he had to just be teasing me.

I notice we are going in the wrong way and go to point it out, "Hey Carmy we are going in the wrong direction maybe that's why you always offer me rides home."

"No that's not why. I am taking you back to my place," He says like it is no big deal at all.

"What!" I shout so loud that it makes me instantly hold my head.

"You obviously aren't going to take care of yourself and you can't go to sleep right after getting a concussion either so someone needs to watch you." He said annoyed.

"I still don't get why you are so angry at me. I appreciate you taking care of me but it's unnecessary and I never asked you to." I responded also annoyed at his attitude towards me.

"The thing you don't realize is you don't need to ask me." He says lowly while gripping the steering wheel.

We arrive at his apartment and I am a blushing mess and there is no way of hiding it. Then he opens the car door for me and again and I am way too nervous for my own liking.

He smirks at my reaction at least he is somewhat happy now even if it is at my own expense. He puts his hand on the small of my back as we ascend the stairs.

He sits me on his couch, "Seriously don't move this time I am going to get you an ice pack and make you some breakfast because we both know you always skip it."

"Do you even have food in your fridge we both know you don't even feed yourself," I jest and he laughs.

"You know me so well," he smiles and kisses the top of my head.

I instantly flush at this gesture and he again walks away like it is no big deal. For someone saying he just wants to take care of me, he is certainly stressing me out.

"Okay, I found cereal the milk has gone bad though... on the bright side I also have peanut butter and crackers." He comes back with peanut butter crackers on a plate and a box of cereal.

"My savior," I put my hand on my chest.

"Yes what I crave to be," he responds back.

"Is that why you crave to drive me to work when I can just take the bus and walk the two blocks after?"

He rolls his eyes, "Would you really rather be mugged than drive to work with me?"

I am quick to defend myself "That's not it all I just don't want to be a hassle!"

"You a hassle never, well of course when you refuse to listen but I will never see you that way. Not after all the times you have helped me with the restaurant." He says seriously with a lot of eye contact that makes me feel awkward.

"Well, I am your employee it's what I am supposed to do... but Marcus seems to think we are more," I mumble the last part.

His eyes widen, "What did Marcus say?"

"Does Marcus know something I don't?" I awkwardly smiled. "Marcus did say I am oblivious."

"He shouldn't have said that," He shakes his head.

"I mean it is true I am quite oblivious," I laugh.

He starts mumbling about Marcus and teaches me to open up to him. I put my hand on his shoulder "You know you can open up to me snitches get stitches as I say"

" I mean I didn't want to tell you this way and I wanted to make sure I was good enough," He said.

"What you didn't want to tell a concussed me with a head wound you don't think you good enough? I can assure you are good enough. You are the best chef I have ever known and the smartest guy I have ever met."

"That's not what I meant... but I do appreciate the compliment." He picks the ice pack back up and holds it to my face as I roll my eyes. "What I mean is that I am um good enough for you. I can't focus when you're late to work when you don't text me your nightly I'm Home text. You are distracting my mind no matter what I am doing."

I try to fight the smile appearing on my face but I just can't I feel like the Chesire Cat. "It sounds like you like me," I smirk some more.

" I do."

At that bold confirmation, my face gets extremely hot I must look like a tomato. I look to the side and stutter over my words unsure of what to say " I guess you can drive me to work as long as we go on a proper date together that is not The Bear."

"There is no argument from me," He kisses me making me even redder, more than I thought was possible.

"One more thing to add to these conditions is you must take care of yourself," he whispers in my ear.

"Your one to talk! How about you promise to take care of YOURSELF." I rebuke

"How about we both make sure we are taking care of ourselves," He smirks.

"Deal" I smile and kiss him. I pull back, " I am kinda glad I got mugged today totally worth the fifty bucks."

He shakes his head, " I am glad you think it was worth it I am still incredibly mad they hurt your beautiful crazy brain.

#carmen berzatto #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear imagine #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear x y/n #hurt/comfort

[ryry-rebel]

First Kiss W/ Asahi Azumane

Asahi Azumane x Reader Headcannon

Warnings- None, pure fluff

Pronouns- None

Word Count- 815

My Masterlist -> Masterlist

🎡✨🎡✨🎡✨🎡✨🎡✨🎡✨🎡✨🎡✨🎡✨

100% Soft boy

He would never initiate the first kiss, never, and you can’t convince me otherwise

He is the type of guy to never initiate any romantic gesture

Actually, I think you were the one who asked him out first. Poor boy would be scared to ask you

What if you said no? What if his teammates laughed at him? Asahi would just rather stick to himself.

With that being said, he was an absolute wreck during your first kiss, definitely didn’t go as planned.

I think he could sense when you were trying to kiss him.

Like picture this- the two of you decided to go to an amusement park. After a day of riding all the rides you could think of, you saved the best for last, the Ferris wheel. It was dark out too, so that really set the romantic mood.

You two boarded the cart and immediately you grabbed his hand.

Poor boi tensed up even from that.

Anyway- you two had made it to the top. There was a lake in the distance, lights surrounded the whole thing. It was a rather beautiful sight. All the lights on the amusement ride attractions were on, very beautiful. There was a light breeze that ruffled your hair (and his)

The mood was perfect

“Hey Asahi?” You would ask as you snuggled into his side.

Dude would be sweating bullets. Not used to the physical affection, especially in public. Even tho you guys are literally at the top of the Ferris wheel, and no one is paying attention to you guys

“Mhm?”

You would look into his big, beautiful brown eyes, and he would stare into yours.

Did I mention how easy it was to get lost in his lovely, alluring eyes?

Asahi would gaze down at your lips. He wants to kiss you; trust me he does. But, he can’t bring himself to do it.

What if he’s a bad kisser? What if his breath stinks? (It Doesn’t).

Then, you would grab his face, caressing his soft cheek with one hand as you slowly leaned in for a kiss…

NOPE

Asahi would turn away, and you ended up kissing his cheek.

“Look at that ride! I think we missed it. We should definitely ride that one before we head home.”

You just got cock blocked by your own date

The night would continue like that.

Every attempt you made he would shut it down. You started to think he just didn’t want to kiss you, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

So, as you guys were walking back to his car, you decided to just ask him.

“Why dont you wanna kiss me.”

Asahi would stop dead in his tracks. That question is definitely going to haunt him.

His face would turn bright red, and he would start sweating profusely again. His hands would be all clammy and his voice would be all high pitched and squeaky.

The dude is about to shit himself Ngl

“What do you mean?” (He’s playing dumb, he 100 % knows what you mean). He’s just scared ok 😭

“Every time I try to kiss you, you shut me down. Do you know how many times I’ve kissed your cheek today?”

Now he feels bad.

He’s stressing you out and he never meant to.

He would take a deep breath. He knows he has to tell you. (He’s definitely going to stutter).

“I… Well, I…”

You kind of just stood there with your hands on your hips, definitely not helping the situation. It just scares him more.

“I… I want to kiss you. But… Well, I’m… I’m s-scared. I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to be a bad kisser.”

Asahi would hang his head low in defeat.

But you were there to pick it back up.

You would hold his face gently in your hands, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. His face would be hot to the touch, but you wouldn’t mind.

“I don’t care if you’re a good kisser. I promise you baby, there is nothing to be scared of. We can both learn as we go.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

You slowly moved in, and when your lips FINALLY found their way to his, sparks were flying.

The whole damn world lit up for you two. Don’t tell him people were watching you guys kiss. You are in the parking lot after all.

There was no tongue. The kiss was short and chaste, but it was full of unsaid words and love.

Unbreakable and undeniable love

#haiku #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #asahi azumane x reader #asahi x reader fluff #asahi azumane x reader fluff #asahi azumane #azumane asahi #haikyu fluff #haikyuu fluff #headcanon #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #anime fanfic #fanfic #fancition #haikyu fanfiction

[findmeinasunshower]

𝑮𝒐𝒅𝒔𝒐𝒏: 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

word count: 1.6k

summary: teddy’s staying with you and harry for the weekend. angst/fluff

warnings: mentions of character death

You don’t know how long you’ve been in bed when you finally feel the other side of the mattress dip and Harry’s arm slip around your waist. It has to be at least an hour past midnight and you didn’t hear him arrive home, so he must have come in by Floo powder.

The exhausted man buries his nose in the back of your neck, making you sigh in content. “Hi,” you greet him, voice heavy with sleep.

“Hi,” Harry responds. He sounds even more tired than you do. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep anyway. Why’re you home so late?”

Harry huffs in frustration and pulls you closer, dragging his fingers up your waist as he does so. “Bad day. We got four more Death Eaters just today.” He pauses. “One of them killed his family before we could get to them.”

“Merlin,” you breathe out. He hums in agreement.

“Yeah. But, we got them in the end.” He pauses before muttering: “Let’s talk about something else. What did you do today?”

You roll over to face your boyfriend. His green eyes are unfocused without his glasses, but a smile still spreads across his face when he sees you. “Today was my day off, so Ted and I spent the day outside.”

Harry raises his eyebrows and chuckles softly. “Did you now?”

“Mmhmm. And Luna stopped by around lunch. Teddy got so excited when he saw her that his hair started changing color.”

“Blue and pink?”

“Yup.” Harry laughs, and your lips curve into a smile at the sound. “How’d you know?”

“Because that’s what happens every time I go pick him up from Andromeda’s. Drives her crazy.”

The two of you share another quiet laugh before settling into a comfortable silence. Your eyes flutter shut at the feel of Harry’s hand tracing the curve of your waist soothingly. “Are you home tomorrow?” you ask before you can fall back into the welcoming clutches of sleep.

“I should be,” Harry responds. “Both Ron and ‘Mione got on me today for how tired I look, so they should be picking up my slack tomorrow.”

“You talk like there’s any slack to pick up.” You chuckle sleepily and tilt your head up to brush a lazy kiss over his chin. “You work too much. Spend the day with Ted and me.”

The feel of Harry’s lips on your forehead and his mumbled “I will” sends you back to sleep.

Sometime later, you wake again to the feel of Harry’s arm sliding out from around your waist. The small movement stirs you into semi-consciousness and you grasp feebly at the air where Harry was just a moment ago. The bed creaks as he sits on the edge and stands up. You blink your eyes open, squinting to see him in the dark. “What’s wrong?” you mumble.

“Teddy’s up,” he replies, and he’s right—You did hear the pitter patter of tiny feet pass outside your door just a few minutes ago, but your exhausted brain had incorporated it into your dream until now. “I’ll be right back, love.”

He slips out of your bedroom soundlessly, leaving you to lay alone in the dark. You consider trying to go back to sleep, but ever since the war, you’re never able to rest without someone else in the room. You blame all of those months on the run.

So instead, you carefully slide out from under the comforter and stand up, ignoring the cold wooden floor beneath your feet. You manage to stay silent as you walk to the edge of the corridor toward the kitchen and peek around the corner just in time to see Harry scoop Teddy up so he can reach the plastic cups in the cupboard.

“Thirsty?” Harry asks with a smile. He shifts Teddy so he’s holding him under the arms and props him against the counter in front of the sink. Then he makes sure his godson’s glass is beneath the faucet before turning the water on. They fill it almost to the top before Harry shuts the water back off and sets Teddy back on his feet.

“A little,” Teddy replies, blinking up at his godfather drowsily. The young boy sips his water and rocks back and forth on his feet a couple of times. “Where’s Miss (y/n)?”

“Sleeping,” Harry replies. You press yourself further into the shadows, glad neither of the boys has noticed you yet. “You’ll see her in the morning. Now let’s get you back to bed, Ted.”

Teddy giggles. “That rhymed.” Harry joins him in snickering softly and crouches down in front of the little boy. Teddy takes another sip of water before asking: “Why aren’t you sleeping, Harry?”

“Because I knew you needed help.”

“Did I wake you up?”

The corners of your boyfriend’s lips twitch into a soft smile. “Nah, I can’t sleep with (y/n)’s snoring.”

Teddy giggles again and your heart swells at the sound. You roll your eyes good-naturedly—You’re glad Harry had the sense not to make his godson feel guilty for waking him, but that last jab? Rude.

Harry stands back up to his full height and places a guiding hand on Teddy’s back, and you take that as your cue to duck back down the hall. You climb back into bed just in time to watch your two boys step into Teddy’s room across the hall, still talking quietly.

“Alright, Ted, time to go back to sleep,” Harry whispers softly, and you can imagine him pulling the blankets up to Teddy’s chin.

“Good night, Harry,” Teddy’s calls softly, and you hear Harry’s feet stop and your boyfriend calls out a soft “Good night.”

Harry stops for a moment in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the warm glow of Teddy’s nightlight. The young man watches his godson roll over onto his stomach and pull the quilt up so only the tufts of his blue hair can be seen. Harry’s heart clenches with love as he hears Teddy’s breathing even out. He’s such a small, fragile thing, and Harry still isn’t exactly sure how to take care of him. He doesn’t know if he ever will.

After a pause, you hear Harry whisper something under his breath before stumbling back into your bedroom. You wait quietly as he lays back down in his side of the bed and pulls you close without a word.

You turn in his arms so you’re facing him and cup his cheek gently. You can always tell when Harry is feeling fragile, when he needs to talk. He’s only twenty-one, but he already has tracings of worry across his forehead, though they’re outnumbered by the smile lines at the corners of his eyes. His green eyes are still bright and warm despite the horrors they’ve seen.

You nuzzle your head into his chest and wait for him to talk.

Just as you thought, Harry’s arm tightens around you barely a minute later and he says: “I'll never forget the day Teddy was born. Remus came to Shell Cottage in the middle of the storm to give us the news, and when he named me godfather…I could barely say a word. At the time, I thought Teddy would be like my little brother, but after…” He pauses to take a deep breath and you pull him closer encouragingly, “...after Remus and Tonks died, he’s become my son just as much as theirs.”

When he stops talking, you know the both of you are thinking the same thing: The memory of standing in the wreckage of the Great Hall, staring in disbelief at the bodies lined from wall to wall is one that will never leave you. The grief that hit you when you saw Remus and Tonks lying next to each other, hands nearly touching even in the afterlife, sent you falling to your knees. You couldn’t understand how on earth they could be dead.

It takes you a few minutes to choose the right words to say, but eventually you carefully push yourself up on your elbows so you’re hovering over Harry. His green eyes gaze up at you unclearly as you brush the fringe off of his forehead. “I know,” you whisper softly. “I know you blame yourself. But you can’t blame yourself for something that was out of your control, even though I know you do. It’s not fair to feel guilty for seeing Teddy as a son.”

You cradle Harry’s jaw and make sure he’s looking at you when you say: “What happened to Remus and Tonks is not your fault. They made a choice to come to the castle that night, and they knew that they may not make it back. That’s why they trusted you to take care of their son if anything happened, and I can only imagine how proud and grateful they are for you. You gently brush a tear off of Harry’s cheek with your thumb. “Teddy is not an orphan of war like you were. He has a wonderful, loving godfather who will make sure his childhood will be nothing like his.”

A beat of silence passes between the two of you when you finish speaking. Harry’s eyes search yours for a moment before he pushes himself up to capture your lips in his own. You kiss him back briefly before pulling away, knowing you are both tired to the bone from working and caring for a four-year-old child.

“I love you,” Harry breathes against your lips when you pull away.

You kiss his cheek, then his jaw, and settle your head back on his chest and close your eyes. “I love you too.”

#findmeinasunshower #sunshowerimagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter fanfiction #fandom imagine #imagine #x reader #x you #fanfiction #fluff #angst

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 7]

Mischief Managed

TW: Language, Ghosts, dead bodies, gun use, break-in-and-enter Genre: Comedy Pairing: Liu Yangyang x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 1.0K Prompt: “Who says I can’t be a sexy ghost?”

[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Yesterday] | [Tomorrow] | [Part 2] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: I can't ever write Yangyang as not your Bestie okay Prominence ruined me Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"I still can't believe that of all the people I'd be spending a whole eternity with... it's with you," you watched Yangyang phase through walls repeatedly, changing his expression each time he came back and even once changing his whole outfit.

"Wasn't this the plan anyway?" He asks after finally settling down.

"I mean... I guess, yeah," you shrugged, looking down at your non-living body. "Still, though, I can't believe I died with you."

"And in such a lame way too," Yangyang tries to kick his own non-living body, but his foot just phases through just like with the wall. "Do we even know that guy?" He points at the burglar rummaging through your drawers. You shrugged.

"First of all, why the hell would I know him? Second of all, fuck you," you looked at him, "in comes a burglar with a gun, what do I expect? Best friend to pull me out of the way but no, he ducks behind me and I get shot first, then before he could move he got shot too so what's the point?!" You groaned.

"Yeah, fair, sorry I used you as a living shield," Yangyang floats over to the window but, when he tries to exit, he is thrown back into the flat.

"And we can never leave?! What kind of bullshit-"

"Hey! Okay, hold on, it can't all be bad," Yangyang floats over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, "how about we do some silly ghost stuff?" His eyebrows wiggle and you roll your eyes.

"Deal."

~

"The fuck?" The burglar pulls your desk apart. "These bitches don't have anything! Fuck, they really lived like this," he pulls your textbook out and rifles through the pages, he looks back at your motionless body. "You should thank me for putting you both out of your misery," he snickers. Then he hears something fall behind him and, when he turns back around to the desk, he noticed that he cup holding your pens and pencils had toppled over. "Huh..." he puts it back up and, once he does, he hears something else fall behind him and his head whips back, finding a sheet now thrown over the bodies as well as the lampshade toppled over. The burglar pauses and stares at the sheet before looking at the lampshade, which was still rocking back and forth from the impact of falling.

"Wack," the burglar shudders and goes back to ransacking your apartment, until he hears the dresser drawers fly open behind him and he walks backward until he hits the desk, grabbing onto it's edge for support, while clothes were thrown out of the dresser and into random parts of the room, and as soon as the nightstand fell over the burglar screamed and ran out of the apartment.

Meanwhile, you and Yangyang were losing your shit. Both of you were laughing your asses off like it was the funniest thing you'd ever seen, and to be honest it kind of was.

"Yo, Yang, quit rummaging through my clothes.

"I've been looking for this shirt," he pulls it out and, for a brief moment, it stays in his hold before it fell to the ground.

"Well, you found it, too bad you can't wear it anymore, dude," you shrugged and Yangyang groans.

"Oo... what's this?" He digs a little deeper and you walk toward him to see what he found and, in seconds, he pulls out the lingerie set and, if it could, you were sure your face would've heated up. "All for me?"

"Hell no," you groaned and, once you tugged it out of his grasp, you heard the sound of a thread snapping and the lingerie set fell to the floor. But, strangely enough, you were still holding the set, only this time a more ghostly version of it.

"How'd you do that?!" Yangyang tries to find his favorite sweaters now.

"It ripped and now I'm holding it? You held the set to your chest and looked in the mirror. "Ooh, Yang, maybe I can be a sexy ghost?"

"Found it!" He pulls a shirt out and hands it to you. Once you grabbed it, he took his side and yanked on it, causing the shirt to rip down the middle and allowing Yangyang to pull up a "dead" version of it. “Look at us! Let’s scare the shit out of whoever moves in next.”

“Oh, shit, here comes DJ,” you watched Xiaojun walk in and near scream his head off.

“Fuck, I forgot I invited him over,” Yangyang sighs. “Sorry, Dejun,” he folds his hands and you sat next to the spot Dejun fell over at.

“That idiot…” Dejun was in disbelief.

“I know,” you make a sorry attempt at consoling him.

“He was only supposed to kill Yangyang.”

“What?” Your hand lifts.

“What?!” Yangyang’s shout was louder.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville 

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

#nct #nct x reader #nct x you #nct x yn #nct u #nct u x reader #nct u x you #nct u x yn #wayv #wayv x reader #wayv x you #wayv x yn #yangyang x reader #yangyang x you #yangyang x yn #my writings #nct spooky season

[c0s-lettuce]

insurmountable - loki x reader

non-specific gender, loki s1e4 setting

a/n: had this in my drafts for a long time and finally decided just to get it done. anyway, can you tell i'm excited for season two? enjoy ;)

word count: 863

This sucks. There's no doubt about it. Loki knelt on the floor, head hung in defeat. A memory prison. He wondered which sadistic member of the TVA came up with this.

Loki couldn't spend much more time here, that he knew for sure. An honest confession to Sif only spared him the physical assault. The script didn't change. The same dagger was used each time.

"You deserve to be alone, and you always will be."

Footsteps approach again. Loki braces himself for another round, not even bothering to get back up.

But then something happens, something he would have never anticipated.

"Loki?" your voice sounds out from the entryway.

His head shoots up. Bleary eyes focus on you.

He's positioned in the middle of the courtyard. He's on his knees and frankly looks a mess.

As you approach him, you notice his face. It's almost unreadable; a mix of confusion, sadness and... relief?

"Are you alright?" You crouch down in front of him.

He grabs onto your shoulders as if checking you were real. You're slightly taken aback by the gesture.

"How are you here?" he asks, clearly shocked.

"Uh, I was just on my way back from my lesson with your mother," you say.

Of course. Early on Asgard, you had shown "magical potential", granting you lessons with the all-mother herself.

This was before everything. Before the kiss, before the heartbreak, before the death. You were still a fresh face around the palace.

You continue, "Then I heard Sif yelling, which usually means something bad. And you're on the floor, which is also not good."

Loki's thoughts are running a hundred miles an hour. He looks down and exhales deeply.

"I'm a terrible person," he tells you.

Surprised at his sudden confession, you ask, "What made you arrive at that conclusion?"

He looks up at you, "I cut Sif's hair. I thought it would be funny."

"Oh, I see," you say, "...Did you apologise?"

"I tried, though it didn't help much."

"Apologies can be worth a lot. Give her some time to cool down. Besides, your mother's probably got some spell to grow back hair, right?"

He looks away again.

"Maybe," he shrugs.

"Hey, it's okay, everyone does stupid stuff," you tell him, "All you can do now is work on making it better."

Loki looks back up at you; you're as beautiful as ever. He feels too ashamed to look at you for long. He exhales again, rubbing his eyes.

"You seem really tired," you say.

Loki lets out a dry laugh, "You have no idea."

You take hold of his hands and help him stand up.

"C'mon," you say, "It's late. We should both go to bed."

Though Loki wishes he could sleep, he can't leave. He tried about two or three memories ago. The courtyard loops back into itself. The TVA must be really proud of themselves.

"I just need a little more air," he tells you instead, "You go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'll be alright," he assures you.

"Okay," you say, "See you tomorrow then."

"I'll count the minutes," he replies.

You smile before heading off.

Loki falters. They'll be minutes he won't have. You'll disappear across the courtyard, possibly forever. And Sif will return like clockwork with her fiery rage.

"Wait," he calls out before you've made it too far, "I need you to know something."

You turn back around, "What is it?"

I love you. That's what Loki wants to say. I'll love you until every star in the multiverse dies. But he can't. Not to you. Not now.

So instead, he tells you, "I know we haven't known each other for all that long. But I want you to know, you mean a lot to me."

You react surprised, but not negatively. And Loki feels relieved to see that.

"Oh, thanks. It's nice of you to say that," you smile.

You take a moment to look away and think of something else to say.

When you do, you look back and say, "I'm glad we're friends, Loki."

He smiles back. And the two of you stand there for a little while. It seems both of you have more to say, but words don't come to fruition.

He longs for every second, though every second hurts more and more. It's a pain he would endure if it meant just a little more time.

But he knows.

"Goodnight," you finally say.

He knows he has to let you go.

So he responds, "Goodnight, love."

The pet name slips out, of course, from years of habit. But he catches you smiling a little more after hearing it.

You were still you, even though this never happened. Even though you weren't really there.

Everything was so much easier during this time. But if only it were real. If only this was an opportunity to restart and fix all the mistakes ingrained in Loki's past.

But it's not. A bust in the system, perhaps. Or someone took pity. Or maybe divine intervention decided to gift this moment with you.

➸

Either way, it happened. So he takes his time watching you walk away. Insurmountable. Perfect.

You.

#loki #loki imagine #marvel #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #loki x you #disney #disney+

[scienceoftheidiot]

TAG GAME: EIGHT SHOWS TO GET TO KNOW ME

I was tagged by @shutterbug-12 thank you !!! Weirdly we do share a show, how surprising 😁❤️

Here's a thing : I do not watch that many shows. Partly because I don't have time, partly because I am bad at watching shows because I need to be emotionally invested to get into them, and once I am ???? I can only watch that show in particular, on repeat. Yeah I'm a grown ass adult fight me.

Ripper Street : end all be all the best show on this list that is not at all in order of good from bad for real but this one tops everything. Period drama, awesome characters, delicate treatment of issues we are still struggling with nowadays with actually sometimes more decency from these 19th century Victorian men than 21st century people 🙃. Also misery misery misery feels and a fine dry humor that makes it the perfect match. Oh, and. Dead bodies and gore happens. Also there is something to the dialogue than I just absolutely love.

Daredevil (netflix) : of course this one has to be on the list, and I love it, and I love Matt and Karen and Foggy, and I wish S2 didn't exist. All this can coexist, you know (and I love Elektra and Elodie Yung she is absolutely NOT the problem). Please do not talk to me about She Hulk or the Disney reboot, thanks (gif to make people watch it, I like my men sad and guilty they can't save everyone and covered in blood, thank you). So yeah overall a show I love and have rewatched many times but nowadays... I feel kinda bad about it and it makes me sad.

Band of Brothers/The Pacific : you know me, you know why I like these shows (no it does not stop at "men in uniforms"). We did a rewatch of BoB recently and I think it's an easier watch than the Pacific, but I think I like the latter better even if everytime it makes me feel so bad. Anyway a gif of Webster because (hard to chose between him and Leckie I admit)

Doctor Who : just. Love it. Especially RDT era. Can't chose between 9 and 10 but the best is Jack Harkness

Good Omens : I need a rewatch. Just love it. I have nothing more to say, it's great.

Scrubs : probably one of these shows I shouldn't rewatch in case I cringe a little but when we first got together with Benj 11 years ago we just watched Scrubs on a loop. I don't especially like the characters but the show itself, which is kinda weird for me (except Dr Cox. I love him)

The Sandman : last show that blew my mind. Just love everything in it. Can't wait for S2. I had read some of the comics and loved it, too. Just realized that it's the second Neil Gaiman thing in this list (3 if we count that he wrote for Doctor Who lol) and I guess it says stuff about me too

Pushing Daisies : I have loved the contrast between the whole death thing and the colourful and happy sets and stuff. This show is cute and dark and funny and I love it and I need to rewatch too when I can. (Also? Tall cutie that meddles with the dead and bakes awesome pies? did I use Ned as a template for my OC without realising ??)

I don't think it counts as a show since it's an anime so it's a bonus but if you've been following me the last 6 months, you need to hear about Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood but not necessarily excluding 03. At all. Just watch it back to back. That'll do it. I love both.) (Yeah oddly enough I'm not crazy about the title character there but about THEM and of course you must have noticed)

I tag @heirsoflilith @rancid-butter @qs63 @littleragondin @dairogo @musing-and-music @magipies @goneadrift @smoothshine if you want to do it !

#tag game

[simpingwriter]

Jerome Valeska

x

Faith Wayne/ Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

pt.2

___________________

Ey. What's up.

Also, short chapter :/

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 2.700 Words

___________________

The one, single nurse on shift looked quite shocked when you dragged yourself through the door of the small Infirmary with Jerome slumped over on your back like an uncanny backpack, the guard quickly telling her the gist of it before she turns back to the two of you, "You need to put him on one of the beds, you take the other one." She told you very carefully, probably not entirely sure of how to best talk to you since she had never seen you here before...and should she after all, it's your first day here. A first day you already hated about how it went, just like your first day at School back then...

He fell to the Infirmary bed like a wet bag of cement as you reached it, groaning at the sudden impact to which you were quick to apologize, but surprisingly he wasn't as light to carry as he looked. Especially with the dizziness of the bottle you got hit with setting in now, a strong headache starting to form. "Wait here, don't do anything stupid while we get the doctor, I mean, it's not like you would get far anyways, not in you two's conditions." "Sure, sure…just hurry up." You pant exhausted, trudging over to the over empty bed, eyeing the one across yours.

Unlike the two you had targeted, it wasn't empty. An unconscious girl lied in it, clearly also the witness to some kind of head trauma, her head wrapped in white gauze. For yourself, you hoped she stayed just like that until you were able to leave the Infirmary again, you really weren't in the mood to talk to anyone else after the events from a few minutes ago.

This would be fun. Not.

Minutes passed and the nurse and the guard didn't return, nor did a doctor like you were promised and you felt your head continue to pound, like a pressure hammer by now. And still, you looked fresher than whatever was broken with your ginger luggage, wincing at his own pained whimpers. They only became that desperate when you had finally been out of earshot of the other inmates. He didn't want them to hear how badly the other fucker hurt him really…men and their damn egos sometimes, you love and sometimes you hate them for it, your siblings and Bruce are the perfect example for that.

You saved yourself the 'How bad does it hurt?' Line, his wordless vocalization of it more than enough to get the point across: It hurt to a point, he wished he was just beaten unconscious instead. Not a nurse, just a damned sidekick without Alfred's actually useful medical lessons yet, only some half-assed stuff from a way too busy Bruce, you can't help him with the pain directly, but you could do something else, to help the nurse and the doctor out later, so he would hopefully get some pain killers or similar sooner than otherwise.

Despite his obvious pain, you could feel his eyes, well one, follow you across the room as you jumped back down from your own bed, determined in your stride as you started looking for some clean rags and rubbing alcohol in the cabinets in the white, cold room.

Cold it was indeed, a shiver running through you with the thin inmate clothes clinging to your body. The whole Asylum was this cold, you had noticed as one of the first things in here. Heat Insulation was probably a foreign concept to whomever had built this cold brick box. Trying to also rub yourself warm in the process of looking around the room, you curse under your breath when it turns out to be an absolute waste of time and the unneeded movements of muscles only worsened your own current condition.

Now mostly dry at some spots, the blood of course still clung to his face, neck, hair and clothes. What a damn shame, his ginger locks of hair would probably look incredible if taken care of well. And it's doubtful they had conditioner in here. Or even Shampoo.

"I can't ease the pain like a nurse or Doc, but…but I can clean your wounds for them ahead of time. Will quicken up the process later on." Your voice hadn't been used this gently outside of the mask you wore for a while now, excluding your siblings and Bruce, used to having to threaten and shout at the criminals you were chasing at that moment. Often, you of course also had to go beyond verbal threats, nothing new in a City like Gotham. The ginger stayed still as he seemingly tried to analyze your words for some sort of lie. What was there to lie about?

Or did you mistake it for a different kind of stare?

Either way, you pulled the next best chair closer to rest your own body as you began to dampen the piece of square gauze with the rubbing Alcohol. "I'm sorry, this is going to sting quite a bit with your busted up skin." You apologize beforehand, gently dabbing the cloth against his crusted-up blood to at first avoid the actual wounds, circling around them until the first gauze was too soaked in blood to properly clean off any more of it.

Then it was time to move to his actual wounds, the split open cheek, a horribly busted lip, probably a broken nose and a really bad blue eye which also looked crusted over with blood. His eyes both looked terribly bloodshot though, like he didn't sleep at all for days on end.

The first wince from his lips made you stop, the second too…but after that you had to mentally slap yourself to concentrate again, it had to get washed off one way or another and you did this many times before for Bruce and the rest already as well. Their hisses of the stinging pain the Alcohol caused didn't affect you either, because you knew it had to be done!

"W…why are you doing this for me?" He suddenly rasps out again, a similar sounding question to before, his spit colored red from the amount of metallic liquid he had to have swallowed by now. Why did you help him? Because you suspect him to maybe have witnessed a murde-

Because you cared for the weaker…especially if you weren't able to form a good opinion on them yet. You didn't like judging people you hadn't been able to watch beforehand, as you're a very observant person, able to notice if a person lies most of the time without many troubles.

"Because you needed my help, that's why, now stop questioning it, just accept it." In itself it was a short answer, not at all enough to encompass every detail of your actual thoughts. Sure, he probably killed someone, maybe even in cold blood or even raped someone. But to this point, you don't know abou- "You…you help a murderer?" Well, you got your partial answer, albeit it was off bad quality with his voice nothing but a hurt whisper, his own blood keeping his voice from being heard clearly. "It's not like I am any better of a person, we both did awful things, here in Arkham we're all either against each other or helping out one another…"

Another hiss and contorted grimace came from him as you now began to touch his nose with the gauze, cleaning the busted-open sensitive skin on it, not able to hold back your own grimace at the fact that it was evidently broken, not just suspected anymore, the bruising already forming all over. You remember the last time you had a broken nose, the pain so strong it nearly imparted on your eyesight, forcing you to stop following a fleeing criminal from the lone fact that you couldn't be 100% sure where you were even running at that point, on a narrow roof at that. It wasn't the worst you ever felt, physical pain-wise, in your life but you sure as hell didn't need it another time any time soon. Well, it's not like that can be promised with what you do.

For a short while, you two only sat in silence from there – apart from his occasional vocal discomfort – as you kept switching out the old bloodied gauzes for new ones until you had basically cleaned him up fully, except his hair, which would need a shower at some point. And yet, you still felt awful for just having him lie there, in obvious-as-the-daylights pain. Sure, you still had that very basic training for first aid from Bruce, but…but it wasn't in "Magdalena's" file, so if it came out that you helped him to maybe ease some of the pain, you could end up in huge trouble, maybe even ruin the whole Undercover Mission!

While he stayed quiet, his one non-swollen shut eyed you with a questioning gaze, like he knew you were debating with yourself on the inside.

You would want his help as well if you were in his spot, that one was sure. But…would he even help you in the same way as you? Probably not, unlike you, he wasn't "acting" his mental disorders. Right now, he is weakened. It is mighty possible that he is unable to really show his true character under all this pain…you don't know what is wrong or broken in his head. He could very well be a sociopath, who would've let you get beaten to death in that moment unless you had some very significant meaning to him.

Fuck it.

'We're all the same in here…' You once more told yourself mentally as you stood back up from the chair, too fast unfortunately for your liking as you immediately plummet back down, whining out at the sudden added pressure against your skull. "Okay, let's try that a bit slower…" you moan out against the now constant dull thumping on your poor gray cells, turning to look at the ginger, "I'll look if I find any more useful stuff around here. Don't go unconscious on me." Fortunately for the both of you, you found something right already much quicker than you thought would at first, not having to sneak out of the Infirmary Room for all that long, triumphantly carrying three ice cold blue cooling packs and some dish towels from the Staff Break room you also came across.

Your uncanny ability to slip through nearly everything almost always undetected has helped more than once already, one of the few things that made you a highly valuable sidekick to Batman, as you managed to slip into spaces he or the others couldn't with their taller, broader frames.

But while you snuck past two guards, you had to remember something that might just flat out ruin this all as well: Dr. Kastins, the resident Doctor of Arkham knows you personally, since she visited the GCPD Station while you were there in civilian clothes before and because you remember having to work with her because of another Arkham-related case, she might not be able to match your voice with Phoenix's voice, like most other idiots, so the later instance wouldn't break your neck. Your only hope was that she wasn't going to tell on you, that she had that much of a brain. Otherwise you would have to convince her to keep shut…in a different way.

"Gonna be getting VERY cold in a sec, but it should help a bit with the pain until the doctor is finally here."

When you felt like you did everything you could with the few things around, you drag yourself back to the Infirmary Bed you claimed for yourself, falling into it with your own muffled whimpers into the musty, yellowish pillow. And not long after, you felt your consciousness slip away from you…

When you came back to yourself, you lied facing upwards again, feeling a bandage wrapped around your head, cushioned at the spot of the wound. The first person you saw was a subtly disappointed Dr. Kastins, staring at you from across the room as she checked on the girl across from you. But before you could start to explain your presence in Arkham, the boy from before popped back into your mind. Sitting up slowly, you're met with an empty bed…

"Where is he?" "Is that really the best thing you can think about saying to me...Magdalena?" The dark-haired woman asks calmly but clearly not happy, pulling up one eyebrow as she looks you up and down, "You tossed and turned after I took care of y-" "Did you really let him back out there?! They are going to bash his head in a second time!"

Kastins puts down the tool she had in her hands, sighing irritated, "Why do you even care? Why the hell did you even save him in the first place?! He killed…" she goes silent when your expression didn't move an inch and she realized: You know that he most likely isn't a 100% good person, otherwise there would be no reason that he's here to rot in this godforsaken shithole. So she didn't waste her time to tell you once more. Thank fucking god. "The guard out at the door will bring you to your cell." She then tells you almost coldly, seemingly having given up quickly to find reason in your own actions, something even you have given up years ago. Sometimes you just did what you thought you had to do, even if the whole world would tell you it's wrong.

"Also…don't ever sneak out again, if one of the guards had caught you, your head injury would've been the least of your concerns."

You already expected the guards to use the inmates as their personal punching bags, so your reaction was similarly unsurprised as before, but you still nodded at her "advice" before walking out to meet the guard who was quickly putting you into Cuffs. Understandable, technically these are staff hallways, unless injured, an Inmate isn't allowed to walk around here without them or even with them.

The guard was anything but talkative, strictly business as he had a literally bruising grip on your upper arm, tugging you through the hallway that ended up leading through a heavy steel door. Oh, it's the cell blocks already…

Makes kinda sense that they had the cells connected to the hallway that leads to the Infirmary, but even then, the way through the day room would've been faster. "If you dislike me so much, you could've just taken me through the day room…" your voice was hoarse, your throat dry. The last time you drank some water was in the form of that Black Tea in the coffee shop shortly before you were driven to Arkham by Jim and some other officers…how long ago was that by now anyways? Hopefully you weren't out for more than a few hours…

"And get beat up by the inmates myself? Hell no. Being seen with you or that Ginger is going to be the last thing a guard would want now." Wow, so he does have a voice and he even knows how to use it…Amazing. Rolling your eyes, mostly in connection to your inner monologue but also somewhat for this pathetic excuse of a Guard. Kinda reminds you of the professional coffee-addicts in the GCPD you had to sometimes work with, even as Phoenix you didn't get around to avoiding them. He stops at an empty cell, taking a keyring from his belt before opening it and leading you inside. "Gonna tuck me in as well now??" You inquire confused at that as he pauses a moment before taking the cuffs off of your wrists once more. Of course, like the pussy he was, he refused to reply to your question, leaving you without another word after he locked your cell up once more, walking back the way you two came from.

"Rude." Very rude, actually, like…what are you supposed to do from this stupid fucking cell?! You got an investigation to deal with, you don't have the time to play an actual inmate! "Let me back out, get back here, you limp dicked twat!" At your cell's bars in moments, you rattle at them to try and make him stop and come back, like he was deaf to your insults. But to no avail as you curse some more, beginning to pace around in the gray box of cement until curfew came and the other inmates streamed back into the cell block…occasionally trying to scare you by jumping at your own cell door, pulling faces and throwing quite the unsavory comments about your body towards you.

It wasn't until the next day's afternoon that you were given some sort of…enrichment. That being in the form of someone trying to get your attention through a hole in the wall, one you didn't notice until that very moment and even now had trouble making out from all the other monotone bricks. You didn't even see it when you walked and paced through your cell like an actual Maniac, having analyzed about everything and every inch of the few things in there twice and some even thrice.

"Hey, you…yeah, you, of fucking course you! You're the girl that helped me, right??" From the voice, it was the same boy from yesterday, the only difference to it now was that he no longer had to blubber through his own drying-up blood.

"Yeah…so what?" You return once you found the hole, crouching and kneeling down in front of it. The floor was about as uncomfortable as one would suspect it to be.

"...why did you really help me?"

AGAIN with that damned question?!

"No inmate would've given a single shit about me…but you did." Maybe because not every insane person automatically is emotionless or thinking only about themselves? How did even an inmate themself think that they were all heartless? "Cause I have a hea-" "You're not actually an inmate…are you?"

...fuck...

#jerome valeska x oc #Jerome Valeska x Batsis!OC #batfam x batsis!oc #batfam x batsis #batfam x oc #dc fanfic #dc x oc #Innocent Jerome Valeska

[snappleapple]

their favorite types of kisses

people in this - dream, georgenotfound, sapnap, wilbur, punz, jschlatt, awesamdude, quackity

headcanon!

the most disgusting fluff i’ve ever written

warning - cursing, i think that’s all but if there is more please do not hesitate to tell me :)

word count - 2k

a/n: okay okay, i might’ve lied earlier about that being my last post but this was short and easy to make which is why i would like to feed my readers this early haha. anyways, enjoy and please disregard the errors in this post, i hate proof reading anything lol. also, i’ve been very indecisive on the title and i might change it later and ooh, my masterlist will be made soon. i’ve just been feeling very unproductive these days. also, please put in requests, i am so bored and dumb therefore there are no ideas in this brain. and if you’d like a part 2, i might add more people for the part 2!anyways, peace!

dream -

i get the feeling that dream’s favorite type of kisses would be cheek kisses

he just likes to watch as you struggle to reach his height

“aw look at those little legs do their thing.”

ends up with you not giving him his kiss

and mans becomes SO pouty

“y/n…come on. don’t be this way.” :(

if you don’t kiss him on the cheek, will also become SO clingy and whiny

“why won’t you KISS ME!”

clenches his fists and stomps away like a teenage girl during puberty

slamming the door to your room

so then you have to go and give him all the kisses he wants

his face is slammed into your pillow

you sit on the side of the bed and pet his hair

leading him to stare up at you with puppy dog eyes

“i will give you all the kisses you want. so stop being so pouty, you big baby.”

will literally leave zero feet of space between you and him

taps his cheek to tell you he wants kisses

when you go on dates, will literally make you stand on your tippy toes to get his kisses

does not bend down at all and actually lifts his head higher to tease you

in other words, clingy but rude hoe

george -

george is a classic romantic

he loves just lip kisses

pecks or lingering ones

he doesn’t care

mans don’t need too many kisses

nor does he need to be too clingy

total opposite of dream and sapnap *ahem clingy ahem*

if he wants a kiss,

he will come over to you and get it

doesn’t get pouty if you’re busy

just waits patiently

doesn’t enjoy it when you interrupt him when he’s streaming so you do your own thing

when you’re watching a movie with him,

he will literally only stare at you with his cute smile

and listen to your every criticism of the movie

he likes to just peck your lips whenever he feels like it

and you’re just not surprised anymore

just likes to stare at your lips whenever you talk

overall, is very sweet but not to an extent with showing affection

sapnap -

omg

sapnap just vibes with neck kisses

it tickles his neck and he loves them

giggles when you pepper kisses along his neck and flushes a deep red

“y/n. stop.” giggles between each word

but when you do, becomes the saddest person in the whole world

“i was joking.” :(

when he’s streaming and he begins to miss you

would leave his room and find you just to get a kiss

just like dream, would get angry if you give him no kisses

“GIVE ME KISSIES!”

very amusing for you

and you love to tease him

“i don’t want to give you kissies.”

continues to stare at you with a large frown until you give in and give him kissies

lsg supremacy but i’ll get into this later hehe

you better give him kisses or you’ll be dealing with a very sad sapnap

sadnap :(

wilbur -

wilbur, wilbur, wilbur

what can i even say

total nose kiss guy

i bet he’ll boop your nose twenty four seven

asks stupid questions just to get your attention

“y/n?”

“yes wilbur?”

“is a hotdog a sandwich?”

“why-“

“boop.”

“did you just say boop while you booped my nose?”

if he’s streaming and you bring him a snack

he will hold your face still and leave kisses on your nose

not too clingy but not too distant

likes to be just right with you

if its snowy outside and your noses get red

makes dumb jokes about he is rudolph and you’re mrs. rudolph

just a lot of smooches from wilby

takes you to a lot of hidden cafes in the city

and while you read, he balances his head on his palm, staring at you in admiration

if you’re insecure about your nose, you legit can’t be around wilbur because he will go on a tangent about how beautiful it is

substantially, soft boy hours all day bro, besides when he gets mad then you leave the hormonal man tf alone

punz -

i don’t see a lot of punz on tumblr so here we go

punz loves hand kisses

not to an extent where he has a hand fetish

god no but just like

when your holding hands, he’ll occasionally pull your hand up to his lips and leave a kiss

lots of hand holding

and i mean lots

constantly gets mad fun of for being a simp but ignores those comments because he genuinely loves you so much

likes it when you play with his hair and messing it up

also likes to compare hand sizes with you

always has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his whenever he is driving somewhere with you

even when you go on dates, always holding hands

no matter how sweaty your hand gets, he will hold on

sometimes if he holds on for too long, you have to tell him to let go

“punz, my hand is super sweaty. lets take a break from the hand holding.”

would flat out decline so you would have to pry your hand out of his

he would also love it when you would kiss his hand

makes him feel all polite and precious LOL

would also wrap his pinky along yours when you walk together

he once came with you to a family gathering for christmas and was so SHY

shy boy held your hand for security while your younger siblings made fun of you

afterwards, when you were under a mistletoe, he kisses you on the lips before kissing you on his favorite part of your body,

your hand

c!jschlatt -

jschlatt is a whole mess

the first time you met, he confessed that he would hate you for as long as you lived because you made fun of his boots

now he says he still strongly dislikes you but you’re more tolerable

doesn’t like it when you make him soft and HATES it when he blushes

“why must you do this to me, mother nature?”

also “hates” it when you even touch him because he “hates” you

when he actually confessed to you that he liked you with his grumpy usual grandpa voice,

you kissed him on his forehead, after he bent down of course

he is an actual giant and threatens to squash you like an ant if he feels the need to

is an absolute monster to you but loves it when you kiss his forehead because it makes him feel secure and loved

likes to watch the wind blow through your hair and mess it up but gives you his hat because he like you being “all pretty and shit”

gets SUPER jealous when you hug children

like for example, when you went over to a family gathering at his house, his cousins came up to hug you

and when you let go of the child, the man child comes and lugs you over his shoulder

gets yelled at by his mom and gives her a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and throwing you down on the sofa set next to him

his mom doesn’t approve of the way he treats you but you tell her its fine because he’s cute

when you are far from any type of civilization or in the safety and solitude of your own home, he wants kisses on the forehead

pointing up to it and bending down so you could reach it

“y/n, i only love you because of your forehead kisses.”

“you only love me for my kisses?” :(

“mhm.”

actually feels slightly bad

“and because of your personality.”

“thank you-“

“shut up. we don’t talk about this.”

in conclusion, give him his forehead kisses or perish

awesamdude -

sam just adores it when you give him jawline kisses

not because it’s basically the only place you could reach but because it’s a sweet gesture

sam is all about sweetness

i mean have you even seen this man on his stream

he likes to watch you while you have conversations with your friends

not in a creepy way but more like an adoring way

cause man does he love you

i mean not only does he love you but his whole family does

and when you’re alone with sam, you love to bury him underneath all of your love

“i love you sam!”

“no i love you more y/n!”

“NO i LOVE you more!”

“NO i LOVE you MORE!”

“SAM NO. I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“okay thank you sweet pea.”

leaving you a bit confused but happy that he accepts your love

when you cuddle, omg

he never stops peppering kisses all over your face and vice versa because your relationship is disgustingly fluffy

when he lends you one of his sweatshirts, you sure as hell better wear that shit out or else (i am leaving a blank threat here)

sam loves technology but you guys sort of have a system

a system that involves mailing each other love letters rather than texting them

you guys also go on a ton of walks just about anywhere

hand holding is mandatory even though you probably look like a child compared to him

just give sam lots of love and in return, you’ll receive lots of love

quackity -

mans cannot leave you tf alone

likes to do ANYTHING freaky around you

“i will follow you to the ends of the earth, mi amor.” or

“ayy, back off.” if anyone gets too close to you

messes with you twenty four seven and makes it his job to drive you insane

plays horror games at two in the morning for fun

and when he gets scared, hides in the safety of your arms

“mi amor. i’m scared.”

“shut the fuck up and sleep, alex.”

“okay.” shuts up quickly and snuggles deeper into the crook of your neck

loves you so deeply but HATES your cat

“look at that little dumb thing stare at me. you got a problem bro?”

your cat also HATES alex

scratches him all the time and hisses at him

if you think sapnap is babie, wait till you meet alex

“y/n he bit me!”

when you glance down, you don’t even see a scratch

“kiss my boo boo.”

wtf

“what boo boo? there’s nothing there.”

gasps as if you offended him

“this boo boo that your el demonio did to me.”

this man will do anything to get boo boo kisses

istg, you once found him provoking your cat to get some scratches

in alex’s mind, ouchies = kisses from y/n

always has ouchies from god knows where and shows it to you

even though you find it annoying at first, you grow used to it and it sorta becomes your thing with alex

alex is babie and you need to take good care of him :)

#dream #georgenotfound #sapnap #wilbur soot #punz #jschatt #awesamdude #quackity #dreamwastaken x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #wilbur soot x reader #punz x reader #jschlatt x reader #awesamdude x reader #quackity x reader #dream x reader #george x reader #wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt headcanons #mcyt au #mcyt

[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 3.5 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Briefing

Summary: New mission, old friends.

Notes: This is mostly filler/build up for other chapters, but didn't feel like it fit in the upcoming Wrecker narrative. Cause Wrecker is next, not Crosshair. (sorry bout it). Also kind of a check to see who wants to be tagged in upcoming chapters for new followers- I don't know how to set up taglists. Yet. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10

Word count: 629

Rex watches as the Marauder touches down in Docking Bay 3 of the Star Destroyer Requiem. The latch opens with its usual hiss as the ramp settles almost directly in front of him. Tech was a good pilot like that.

Hunter walked out, quickly followed by Echo and Wrecker. Rex gripped each of their hands in greeting. “Good to see you boys. How was shore leave?”

Hunter smirked. “Very interesting. Always nice to get some real food, too.”

Rex chuckles. Anakin walks up behind his Captain, smiling in greeting.

“Sorry to call you off your shore leave, Sergeant, but you’re the best ones for this job.”

“It’s alright, sir, we were getting bored anyway. Hope you’ve got something good for us.”

The Jedi smirked, crossing his arms. “Only the best for you. You may even get to blow something up.”

“Oh YEAH!” Wrecker pumped his fist in the air.

Anakin glances up as Tech starts down the ramp, head down in his holopad. “Cody’s set up in the briefing room. We better get moving.” He turns to head out of the docking bay, squad in tow.

Tech pauses for a moment to greet Rex, a sign of his esteem before returning to his research and following the crew.

“Well look what the loth-cat dragged in.”

Rex looks back up the ramp to see you standing there, a big grin brightening your face.

His heart stops for a moment, like it always does when he sees you, but it quickly starts beating again. He’s used to it by now.

“Your majesty,” he grins, giving a small bow. “Thank you for gracing our ship with your presence.”

You pose for a moment before heading down the ramp with a chuckle. “I didn’t know we would be seeing you here! I’m glad though- it’s been too long since Anaxes.” You grip his forearm in greeting, secretly enjoying the small touch. “Are you the one briefing us today?”

“No, I’ve still got preparations to make here- wanted to see some familiar faces.” He glances down to your neck, seeing the tell-tale bruising peeking out from your blacks. His heart tenses a little, but only a little. He chuckles. “I see your shore leave treated you well.”

You feel your face burn a bit, but you can’t help the grin that creeps up. “You have no idea. Let’s catch up sometime while we’re here, yeah?” You walk backwards, heading towards the squad.

“As long as you bring the caf from that horde of yours.”

You laugh with a mini salute. “Deal.”

He watches you go with a small sigh in his chest, but no regrets.

“Disappointed?” He hears a slithery voice ask beside him. He looks over to see Crosshair standing next to him, staring after the retreating crew, toothpick in place.

“About what?”

Crosshair glances sideways at him before indicating with his chin. “Her.”

Rex debates denying it, pretending like he’s clueless to what he means- but the Sniper was smarter than that. “No. Sad, maybe, but satisfied. She deserves the best.” He smiles and looks over to the silent Sniper. “And I know her squad won’t let her settle for anything less.”

Crosshair smirks and nods his head. “Yes sir.” He moves to start after his squad.

Rex watches them for a moment before noticing a substantial amount of troopers in the area were all watching the 99, whispering amongst themselves.

“Crosshair.”

The Marksman turns back to look at him expectantly. Rex glances around to the whispering clones before looking back at him.

“Do I need to worry about that?”

Crosshair looks around to where the Captain had indicated, then grins with… satisfaction? “No sir,” came the chuckled reply. “We’ve got it under control.”

He turns and heads after the group.

@nunanuggets @nightsister-babez @nonsenseandm3mes @in-the-crosshairs @mywheezingisalertingtheguards @allhailkingboba @valiantlyminiaturecreature @kaorikoizumi @ladykatakuri @ben-is-a-hoe @klay97 @kaitou2417 @dumfanting @kuromisheart @koifish08 @nivcole445 @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @badbatch-simp24 @pointy-sharp @rainytears2 @gabile18 @nedxwynert @chopper-witch @nexxxxxx @nightscissor @idrkmd @corona-one @babypandasugar22

#tbb in more ways than one #in more ways than one #tbb x reader #tbb x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #tbb fluff #bad batch #clone force 99 #clone force 99 x you #clone force 99 x reader #rex x reader #rex x you

[grogusmum]

In Which I Go To A Sandy Place That Is NOT Tatooine, Have Big Puffy Tubes Put On My Arms, and Meet Big Loud Birds That Have No Respect For Other Peoples Snacks

A Galaxy Far Far Away Short, As told by Grogu Djarin

DIN X F!READER with Grogu

WORD COUNT 1700ish

WARNINGS: Beach sand getting into food, food, swimming, trying to put on floaties and Grogu sass

A/N this is a flipped pov of Sunscreen and part of A Galaxy Far Far Away AU

Okay so, so far New Hampster has been regular and then VERY cold and then muddy. Very Muddy. But then it got very very hot. Like Tatooine but Earth has only one sun! I do not know. So one of the hot days you said ugh it's too hot, let's go to the beach.

We had been going to a water nearby, you call it The Swimming Hole… in winter it is The Skating Pond… you can not see it but I am putting my shoulders up and down for shruggling cuz please, I have no idea WHAT that is about. 

ANYWAYS when it is the Swimming Hole, we go there after dinner “to cool off before bed”. This is one of your sneak-tricks to get me to sleep. And it WORKS. So while I like to swim in it… The Swimming Hole and Me have a very complicated relationship. 

BUT this day you decided the beach would be better cuz "we can spend the whole day there and that there is good wind for cooling us". So right after Breakfast of Scrambled Eggs (yes, eggs, and if you are new I have express permission to eat these egg from my hen friends!) Plus also cooked bread with butters and jams on it, Dad picked me up to change me and him into our swim clothes. Which is shorts and a shirt for for Dad and a stripy thing called a swimming suit that is like a shirt and shorts put together for me. 

Dad carried me out of Jupiter Cottage and you had the speeder car all packed with so much stuff. A ginormous umbrella that is not for rain but sun, it was red and white and reminded me of peppermint canes!  Plus also some chairs and a blanket and towels and a BIG box of food! 

The bad news was Willow or Tabitha OR even Seamus (and HE goes almost EVERYWHERE with us!) could not come with us. You said it was against the rules. I was shocked by that news and I did NOT like it. 

So then we drove and drove and drove, because we were in the mountains and we were going to the edge of New Hampster. 

FINALLY we got to the beach, and I was all excited! But we still had to drive, drive, drive… not fast but SLOW. (sighing a Dad sigh of let’s hurry it up ma’am) You told us we needed to go to the very end because there would be not so much people at the end. Dad did a nod at that information but I wanted to see people. We are seeing more  people now that Bev and Dave in the Big House met Dad and me… Dad knew my question ears, which I had cuz why? So he told me these were strangers so we wanted to be a little EXTRA careful. Hmmmm

Apparently at the end of the beach there is no ice cream or guards or little fresher houses… but there is plenty of sand and water and big rocks and big white birds. Okay, I get why there is no people down at the end.

So you and Dad set up the umbrella which did make good shade and you put a blanket and the box of food under it. Since we drove and drove and drove you said let's eat Green Bean which is me, and that was happy news, I tell you! I only had 4 bars of oats and an apple and a box of juice and a bottle of water in the car! So I was starving!

So we eated lots of foods, like sandwiches which usually does NOT have sand. My sandwich did have sand this time. I like lots of foods. I have discovered I do not like sand sandwiches. It is crunchy in a not so yummy way. But the real trouble with our meal was the loud birds who wanted to eat all my food. I did chasing and I did noises. But they would not listen! You said they were Gulls and that they are bold food stealers. 

WHAT? WHY DID WE COME HERE, LADY?! MY FOOD IS IN DANGER!

And you were right,Gulls do not understand boundaries. Those guys do not understand the food rules of this is mine you big loud dumb birdy! 

We followed their rules of no Seamus or the kitties! I did a humph at those guys. 

Eventually I had to use the force, and I pushed those meanie guys away right into the waters and they did not like it one bit and left us alone. 

After that we all sighed Dad sighs of finally! And Dad said good job and we could eat in peace for goodness snakes!

So then we needed to get ready to go into the water which was all complicated too. Apparently the sun would burn you! I struggled  my shoulders up and down because what the heck. I do not need that stuff. But you did not think so! So I got all smeared with this stuff! It smelled good but tasted terrible! 

After THAT you put those tubes on my arms. I like them when the are on and I am in the water… but I do NOT like putting them on and walking around when I can not put my arms down! I need range of motion ma'am! I can not put things in my mouth when I want to!! And I like putting lots of things in my mouth!! Like food! Plus also things that might be food only we just do not know it yet. Also my ball! I like holding it up close so I can see the 'flections in it… but nope! It's so far away! Sigh of swimming floatie tubes are fun plus also a bother… this is a sigh Dad does not use, only me. And that makes me sigh my sigh of I am small and no one understands…

MEANWHILE (I just learned this word it means stuff was happening when I was doing stuff- it is not as important but a little important so let's talk about it) you asked Dad to help you put the cream on your back. 

ANYWAYS you are always patient with me but you start getting flustrated when my arm survival instinct kicked in and I started wiggling all around. You said stuff like, alright sweetie it'll only take a minute- if - you - would just- and then you'd take a lets just calm down breath and start again, you love swimming bub- just stop- wriggling…

Well you know Dad! He was happy to help you, but it was a flustering thing and his aura got all zippy! And his words got all I- what- of course- um- I will do anything for you 

(OK he didn't say that last part but I know that guy!) 

FINALLY THAT WAS OVER, my arms gave up the struggle and I was ready to go in the waters! So let's GO! 

THEN good gravy! I had to wait for Dad to get that stuff on him… the ocean is not going to splash itself people… luckily, you were much faster than Dad! But I think he was being teasing guy with you, you told him to stop but you laughed too soo… I do not know. But after making sure ears were protected including mine with a very big hat we finally got into the water! Phew…

BUT apparently Dad was STILL covering your back with that stuff and it seemed like you were wondering if he was having some trouble, cuz you asked him how's it going back there, sport? I don't know what a sport is… maybe someone who takes along time with cream! 

I had never been in the ocean water before… it is salty and splashy… I guess it will splash itself! Well… plus also it likes to move people around. 

I liked it a lot. 

So we played and played! Including Dad throwing me up in the air and catching me! Which I liked very much!

But then we had "quiet time" under the umbrella which is secret code for nap! Dad fell asleep and so did you! I was told if I did not fall asleep it is okay but I must stay on the blanket THE WHOLE TIME. So I played a game of covering Dad with sand. I did not leave the blanket at all I just used the Force to bring the sand over to the blanket! When he woke up with his head sticking out of sand he was very surprised, I tell you! 

But he laughed and said I did a good job following the rules, but next time maybe he would make a few more rules… hmmm. 

After swimming again and getting all the sand out of Dad's everywhere we packed up and drove,drove, drove home. 

We got to stop at a food window and have our 3rd meal in the car! I eated fries which are sticks of potato and a cheeseburger… which I don't really know all the things in it but the cheese part because it is in the name. The brown circle reminded me of kryte dragon and then there was plants and bread with seeds on it. I even got a sundae which is ice cream (YAY) with melty chocolate on it! I sang happy songs just to myself while I eated it cuz it was so yummy! 

Then the car was quiet for a while…so Dad said sing to us Cyr'ika, so you sang our favorite rainbow song and it was nice until it was a sleeping trick! And I think that Dinjamin Djarin knew exactly what he was doing! Sigh of going to sleep against my will, because I am not even tired.

The End

(For clarification this is not me, but this is the trouble with floaties!)

THANKS FOR READING! 💚

You can find more of my work here and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

#as told by grogu #din djarin #grogu #grogu djarin #a galaxy far far away au #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem! reader

[angeli-marco-writes]

Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway? 

“You are absolutely unbelievable!” 

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid. 

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics. 

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face. 

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs. 

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded. 

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.” 

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open. 

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake. 

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now. 

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door. 

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body. 

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek. 

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together. 

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there. 

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too. 

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker. 

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows. 

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.” 

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.” 

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory. 

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face. 

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long. 

“What are you doing?” she whispers. 

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.” 

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.” 

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.” 

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive. 

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise. 

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces. 

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep. 

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him. 

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone. 

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks. 

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets. 

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling. 

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck. 

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine. 

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years. 

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again. 

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little. 

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name. 

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words. 

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort. 

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off. 

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees. 

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.” 

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane. 

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away. 

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up. 

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?” 

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on. 

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there. 

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers. 

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air. 

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair. 

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen… 

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him. 

“Do you have a condom?” he asks. 

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had. 

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before. 

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another. 

“Please.” She all but begs. 

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing. 

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame. 

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns. 

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly. 

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other. 

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her. 

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely. 

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another. 

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight. 

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them. 

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before… 

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?” 

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body. 

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.” 

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering. 

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.” 

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom. 

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner. 

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs. 

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs. 

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther. 

“Thank you, Sherlock.” 

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse. 

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks. 

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.” 

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything. 

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.” 

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly. 

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain… 

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly. 

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton. 

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way. 

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...” 

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier. 

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles. 

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs. 

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock. 

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag. 

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that . 

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet. 

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of… 

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple. 

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone. 

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #johnlock #sherlolly #mystrade #sherlock smut #sherlock fanfic #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes smut #william sherlock scott holmes #mycroft holmes #molly hooper #dr john watson #sherlock bbc #john watson #sherlock x oc #sherlock x reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock angst #sherlock fic

[wrenhyperfixates]

All I Need is You

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You do so much for everyone else and so little for yourself that when you almost collapse, Loki finally gets you to agree to let him take care of you. Warnings: the reader skips some meals; a lot of fluff A/N: Its really just Loki taking care of you. But please remember to take care of yourselves too everyone!! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02​ @frostedficrecs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was watching you even more carefully than normal these days. Yes, you’d caught his eye even on your first day in the Tower back when you were just a new recruit, a SHIELD agent with some kind of sixth sense that let you anticipate things, recently transferred to the Avengers Tower. Even now no one was entirely sure if it was a power or just an uncanny knack you had that made you extremely good at your job. Regardless, the trickster god could see how the ability had shaped you.

You’d only been in the Tower a week when you’d started running errands all over the city, offering things to people before they could even think they needed it themselves, then going to pick it up for them. Loki had declined the offer after hearing all the places you were already going. He’d hoped it was a fluke, that you wouldn’t make it a habit of taking care of everyone. Not that it was inherently bad, he just knew how tiring it could be to please everyone, worried that you would burn out. Of course, you had kept doing it, and his worries turned out to be justified.

“Darling, are you going out again?” Loki asked as you passed his seat in the common room on your way to the elevator. He set his book down, frowning. “Did you not just go yesterday? Unless, of course, this time it is for you. Then by all means, please be on your way.”

“No... It’s just Steve and Bucky were talking about some cereals they used to like and we don’t have any in the Tower so...” you trailed off, shuffling your feet.

“And can they not wait for it until the next scheduled trip to the supermarket?”

“Well, yeah, they said they could. But I don’t mind.”

Loki stood and sighed, walking over to you. Gently, so you didn’t have to comply if you didn’t want to, Loki lifted your chin to look at him. You looked tired. Admirable as it was that you wanted to do things for others, you needed a rest day.

“And tell me, darling, when was the last time you did something for yourself?” He waited a moment for an answer, but was met with silence. “What about that drawing you started two months ago? Have you worked on that more?”

“It wasn’t any good, anyway,” you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“It was wonderful,” he reassured you. “What about eating, though? Have you eaten today?”

“I... I had a mint.”

“That does not count.” Now he was outright worried. You did this every once in a while, saying you just got so caught up in other things, you forgot to eat. Whatever the reason, it troubled Loki. “You have had some water at least? You know what, do not answer. I am sure I know already. Just wait here a moment.”

You waited by the lift as Loki padded to the kitchen, searching for a water bottle. The problem went beyond just these shopping trips. Sometimes when Tony or Bruce got stuck on one of their projects, you’d pore over books and blueprints for hours, searching for the answer, losing sleep. Then other times, you took it upon yourself to plan events for the team. It was more than a simple, casual invitation. No, it usually involved at least three days of extensive planning. Everyone enjoyed them and was appreciative, needing a break from their day-to-day lives, but it just took up more of your time and brainpower. Pile that onto your own training and missions, it was enough to wear anyone out.

But what he both loved and hated the most was how you’d always be there to talk. Not just for him, but for everyone. And not merely a laid-back chat, either. No, they were practically therapy sessions. Again, just like all the other things you did, that would be all fine and good, except for the fact you never talked about your own issues. You just did so much for everyone else and practically nothing for yourself, even something so basic as remembering to eat, that it broke Loki’s heart a little more every day.

“Here,” he said, handing you the plastic bottle. “But I am coming with you.”

Smiling brightly, you led the way out into the city streets. You chatted as you went about your task, and Loki was yet to take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t until you started the journey back, however, that he began to grow worried. You hadn’t taken even the smallest sip of the water he’d fetched for you, and on this hot day, it was clearly taking its toll. You stumbled a little, suddenly looking more out of it than Loki could stand. He gently gripped your arm to steady you and led you to a bench. Grabbing the water out of your backpack, Loki uncapped it and held the bottle to your lips.

“Drink,” he ordered, but with kindness in his tone.

One of your hands that was gripping the bench a bit too tightly in an attempt to ground your dizzy mind came up to take the bottle from him. Complying, you downed nearly half the bottle in one gulp. It seemed that was a mistake as your empty stomach gargled, rebelling against the sudden intake. Loki rubbed large circles on your back while you scrunched your eyes closed, breathing deeply as you tried to force yourself to feel better.

“Are you alright, darling?” Loki asked when you felt well enough to take another few small sips. You nodded your head, eyes still closed. “Now do you see why it is important to take care of yourself? Will you please get some rest this afternoon?”

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, I-”

“That is madness!” Both Loki and you flinched at his sudden increase in volume. He removed his hand from your back, feeling unworthy to make contact with you after snapping like that. You were his friend, and he was yelling at you for something like this? It made him disappointed in himself. He sighed. “Listen, I am sorry. All I mean is I care about you. I do not like to see you like this. It is not healthy, and I believe you know that.”

You opened your eyes, blinking at him. “You-you care about me?”

Loki felt heat flood to his cheeks as he realized that he had, in fact, said that. “I do. So will you please let me take care of you?”

You bit your lip for a minute. “I will,” you sighed, giving in.

Satisfied, Loki coaxed you into accepting a piggyback ride the rest of the way home. You placed your forehead in the crook of his neck, enjoying his cool skin against yours, which was noticeably overheating. He quickly tossed the grocery bags of cereal onto the counter and brought you to your room, your own little pocket of the world that you trusted Loki enough to share with him if even for a moment. Laying you down on your bed, he told you to rest for a minute, lips placing a ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

The god moved to your bathroom, looking for what he needed. After preparing a bubble bath with nice, cool water, Loki left you to sink into it with only the order to relax. While you did, he hurried to prepare you a light meal, something that wouldn’t upset your stomach. When you padded out of the bathroom in the soft pajamas Loki had left for you and saw the meal on a tray on your bedside table, a smile tugged at your lips.

Loki peeled back the silken sheets he’d put on your bed so you could get under them. With a little bit of difficulty—Loki never had gotten a firm grasp on understanding Midgardian technology—he flipped through the channels on your TV until you found something you wanted to watch while you ate.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked once you were done eating, before leaving you to your own devices.

You bit your lip as you thought before ultimately shaking your head no. “I’m good thanks.”

“Please, darling, be honest with me,” he pleaded. “Anything you want. Name it, and it is yours.”

“Will you stay with me?” you blurted out. “No, I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Darling,” he tsked. “The only thing on my schedule today is taking care of you.”

You smiled as he slid under the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap. You twisted your body so you could look at him and tuck a few locks of his raven hair behind his ear. You were living in your own place in time, the two of you finding a safe haven in each other’s arms.

“You know what would make me really happy, Loki?” you began. “If I got to give you a little, thank you. Would that be alright?”

The god hesitated for a moment. “I suppose. Depending on what it is.”

“Can I... Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Well, that depends, again.”

“On?”

“On whether or not we can make it a regular occurrence,” Loki replied with a playful grin.

“You know, you are always saying I should do things that make me happy. So yes, yes we absolutely can.”

“In that case,” he said, already leaning in, “what are you waiting for?”

Giggling, you bridged the gap between you. As Loki smiled against your lips, he realized something. No matter how stubborn either of you were when it came to accepting help for yourselves, you’d always have the other to take care of you. And even more importantly, Loki thought, you’d have each other to love.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #mcu loki #loki fluff #fluff #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #reader insert #gender netural reader #marvel #mcu #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfic #mcu reader insert #loki friggason #loki friggason x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki oneshot #marvel oneshot #loki x y/n

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Midge telling Susie about her and Lenny!

Thanks, Anon!! I’ve had a couple requests for this, so here we go!

It Was Nearby

Fandom: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Rating: T Word Count: 2185

Summary: One phone line Susie’s got. One. And Midge is telling her a story she coulda guessed the ending of from a single word.

Or, Susie finds out about Midge and Lenny.

“‘How come you never came back to the hospital?’” Susie recites. Again. She knew Midge would ask to hear the message more than once, so, even though it’s a simple one, she wrote it on a notepad next to her phone, all professional-like. The way she’s seen Dinah do.

“That’s what they said?”

“Yes.”

“Did they say it in that tone?” Midge asks, an impatient pushiness in hers.

“What tone?”

“Like they were accusing me of something.”

Susie sighs. She can’t be tying up the single line like this. Thankfully, Dinah’s already wrangled her small, noisy relations out of here and taken them out for lunch. She doesn’t need to know Susie stayed on one call for more than ten seconds. It’s been almost ten minutes now.

“I don’t think your father—” Susie begins.

“It was my father who called?!”

“Yes! Did I not say that at the beginning?”

“You might’ve. When I call you, I’m paying attention from the start—I have to be, or Dinah hangs up on me. When you call me, sometimes it takes me a while to start listening.”

Susie makes an insulted noise into the receiver.

“Nice to know you respect me,” she says sarcastically.

“I do. Susie, I’m sorry, I do. Please, tell me what my father said to you.”

“‘How come you never came back to the hospital?’” Susie repeats, highly annoyed. “And then he yammered on about some other stuff, but I didn’t think you’d be interested in that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t about you.”

“Touché.” Susie hears Midge sigh before continuing, “Papa gets a little wound up.”

“Yes, that was coming across.”

“If it had been my mother who’d called, I’d know something was actually wrong.”

“Oh, she called too. Apparently, you had the car keys?”

“Shit.”

“But they got a ride home from…” Susie quickly rustles through the papers on her desk and finds the other page she tore off the notepad. “…Archie and someone named either Imogene or Dody. Your mom was sayin’ one name and your dad kept shouting over her with the other one.”

“It’s Imogene.”

“Don’t care.”

“Of course not.”

“So, why didn’t you go back to the hospital?” Susie wonders.

“I’ll make something up,” Midge says.

“This is me askin’. You got to the Wolf, right? You did the set? You said you’d figure something out. I assumed that meant you were gonna do the set.”

Susie hunches forward over her desk, suddenly tense. She can’t control what Midge does (boy, wouldn’t that make her life easier) and she sure as fuck can’t change the past, but she still experiences a boatload of anxiety when her girl does this to her. Midge’s unpredictability is more stressful than Susie’s buddy-buddy relationship with a couple of mobsters. They should probably both fuckin’ reflect on that one.

“I did the set,” Midge says.

Susie waits for more information—or, anyway, more talking. Always the talking with this one. Whether or not there’s anything useful in it varies. Midge doesn’t say anything else. Did she hang up?

“Hello?”

“I’m still here.”

Ok, good confirmation. Susie smacks the phone on the desk anyway.

“Ow, Susie,” she can hear Midge complaining as she brings the phone back to her ear.

“What’s with you?” Susie demands. “Did it go bad? You’re not still worryin’ about your ex-fuckin’-whatever he is, are ya?”

“Ex-father-in-law,” Midge supplies. “Of course I’m still worried about him, but no, my set did not go badly. It might’ve actually gone great. Can’t remember. It was all sort of a blur.”

“Good crowd? Lotta laughs? Boise seemed to be sayin’ there was a big crowd. Sounded pretty excited. I think I liked him better when he was an asshole.”

“Yeah, it was a… really good crowd.”

“Great. So, you’re—and by ‘you’re’ I mean ‘we’re’—still happy at the Wolf? Definitely not a toilet gig like His Fuckin’ Majesty King James said,” Susie reassures herself defensively.

“It wasn’t…”

Susie freezes.

“Past tense,” she observes, foot bouncing on the floor. “Past tense makes me very nervous, Miriam. Tell me you misspoke.”

“I did not misspeak.”

“Fuck! Why are we talking in past tense about the Wolf?”

“There was a raid. Right after my set.”

“Cops?”

“No, ants. The girls thought they’d try something different last night, so instead of taking their clothes off, they spread out a big, checkered blanket on the stage and we all sat down and had a picnic. It was as pretty as a Good Housekeeping spread until we got to the watermelon, and then…. Yes, Susie, cops!”

“Fuck!” Susie reiterates. For emphasis. Why the fuck not. “And why’d you say all that shit about a picnic? Now I’m hungry and stressed.”

“I’ll find another place to perform.”

“Were you in jail last night then? Is that it? Did you get arrested?” Susie probes, ignoring Midge’s calm optimism. Where the fuck was this version of her when they were in that cab after Shy Baldwin left them high and dry? Losing the Wolf might not be worthy of hurling a skirt out of a moving car, but Susie is expecting Midge to share in at least some of her distress. How can she be so goddamn cool and collected?

“I did not get arrested,” Midge promises.

Susie exhales massively in relief. She balls up a fist and rests her forehead against it, momentarily closing her eyes. She’s savouring the good news; it still doesn’t sound as though she’s heard the full story of Midge’s night yet.

“Thank fuck,” she says. “You don’t got a lot of sense, but at least you had the sense to get outta there quickly.”

“Well…”

“Oh, what?!” Susie cries out, almost a sob. “For the love of god, what?”

“I went back into the dressing room to get my coat.”

“Your coat. Sure, your coat! You wanna be warm in jail!”

“And the girls were running everywhere. The room was a mess. I was keeping in mind that I’d need to make sure that whatever coat I did find was actually mine, and not just one that looks like mine, because the newest act at the Wolf is me.”

“New? You’re not new. You’ve been wasting your time rebuilding that place for weeks! You’re practically the fuckin’ foreman!”

“No, not me me,” Midge clarifies, as if that’s helpful. (Susie’s face is scrunched up in confusion.) “I’m a stripper. The stripper strips as me. Well, she dresses up in a terrible approximation of what I wear—”

“It’s not that terrible, is it? You sound pissed off about it.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad. Anyway, I wanted to find my coat and not a coat that was going to tear off my body the second I got outside because—”

“The snowstorm,” Susie supplies. This she knows about. Midge can’t see it, but she makes a rolling motion with her hand, urging this winding story along. Unbelievable that this woman’s father is now a journalist with limited space to fill. Susie feels like she oughta be getting paid ten bucks every time Midge gets sidetracked from the point of the story.

“So I’m digging and digging, and everyone’s running—”

“Except for you, sounds like.”

“—but then Lenny came back for me, so. No jail. Set went great. We should get lunch tomorrow.”

“Hang on,” Susie says. There’s just one little detail there Midge fuckin’ steamrolled over.

“What?”

Ah, the innocent act. Can’t make that one work when you’ve told as many dick jokes as Midge has.

“Lenny.”

Susie brings it all down to one word. It’s not really her choice, not her fault—Midge is the one who made his name stand out in that sentence. In that whole zigzagging narration of her evening. She’s a perky little smartass with her picnic bit and then she gets to Lenny Bruce. Even as she spoke faster, Susie heard the softness in her voice.

“You know Lenny,” Midge says, like Susie said his name because it’s unfamiliar.

“Lenny was at the Wolf.”

“Yes.”

“Lenny Bruce, who’s about to do a run at Carnegie fuckin’ Hall just happened to be at that shithole?”

“Former shithole. And no.”

“Miriam, I swear to god,” Susie says tightly. She thrusts her hand out in an impatient gesture that nobody can see, unless Alfie’s got a new trick where he can see through walls. “You just said he was there. Twice.”

“He was there. I’m disagreeing with the implication that it was by accident.”

“Just spit it the fuck out!”

“He showed up to see me,” Midge says. At last, something straightforward for Susie to wrap her head around. “He wanted to apologize for… never mind what. He was there. We spoke for a minute or two after I came offstage, and then the place got raided. Lenny got me out. My coat was not so lucky.”

“Alright. Lenny Bruce rescued you from a police raid and your own stupidity, at which point you’d think you might’ve headed for home, but you didn’t.”

“It was snowing.”

“I remember.”

“I didn’t have my coat.”

“I remember that too.”

The sound of Midge not talking makes Susie just as nervous as it did a minute ago.

Finally, Midge says, “His hotel was nearby.”

Susie wants to slam her head against her desk this time, not the phone. Lenny Bruce saved Midge from some cops and a blizzard and his hotel was nearby. In someone else’s world, in someone else’s life, it’s possible that a blizzard would be enough to temper the euphoria of evading arrest, but not in this one. Not in Susie’s.

What’s this gonna do to Midge? What’s it gonna do to both of them? Will they suddenly be turning down every gig that’s not Carnegie Hall? Will Midge decide that opening acts are ok, but only if she’s opening for Lenny Bruce? Are they gonna be following this guy from show to show now, shadowing his career? In some ways, Midge might learn a few things from that, but largely, it feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

With Lenny to guide her, will Midge ever listen to any of Susie’s advice ever again?

“Now you’re quiet,” Midge notes.

“Just thinking through a hundred horrible outcomes,” Susie says, staring blankly at the wall.

“Consider the outcome where I’m happy.”

“Right now you’re happy. So, Lenny’s good in the sack. Good for you. I’m tryin’ to think about your future. I do not need you getting derailed.”

“Derailed?” She sounds offended. Good. When she’s offended, she pays attention. “Susie, I won’t.”

“You’re not gonna be thinking too much about him and not enough about you?”

“Of course not. We have a plan. A manifesto.”

“When this hits the papers, what does that do to the plan?” Susie wants to know. She continues before Midge can cut in. “Because you don’t know that it won’t! Big crowd at the Wolf last night, right? How do you know there wasn’t a journalist in it? L. Roy Dunham or somebody of that ilk? Maybe they saw you talkin’ to Lenny. Maybe they followed the two of you. Maybe somebody who works at the hotel is gonna cash-in on a tipoff.”

“Nobody saw—”

“Do. You. Know. That,” Susie demands slowly. “Need I remind you that Lenny Bruce has never been more visible? Carnegie Hall, Miriam! That’s who you were with!”

“I know that!”

“His hotel. Ya had to go to his hotel. It was nearby.”

“He won’t do anything to jeopardize me, Susie,” Midge says.

“I’m worried about you jeopardizing you!” Susie stresses, stabbing her desk with her finger.

“You know, I doubt Lenny’s having this conversation with his manager right now.”

“You’re damn right he’s not, because he’s Lenny Bruce and because he’s a male comic. Nobody is ever gonna think he achieved something because of who he slept with.”

“I know that.” These three words are quieter this time, like they actually mean something and aren’t just Midge yelling back after Susie yelled first.

“You’re gonna do big things,” Susie sighs. “Such big fuckin’ things.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I can’t take it if they think you only got to where you’re gonna get to because you screwed Lenny Bruce. Why now, Midge?”

“Neither of us planned it. I was upset about Moishe, seeing Joel and Mei together at the hospital. Everybody paired up and me alone.” Susie clutches the receiver to her ear as Midge rambles on. “It was the snow, the raid, the way he… looked at me, Susie.”

“Uh huh. Well. At least you didn’t get arrested.” She clears her throat. “Lunch. Tomorrow. I have no idea what time I’m free, so I’ll have Dinah call you and set somethin’ up.”

Susie hangs up the phone. She places both hands flat on her desk and breathes out. Whether it’s good or bad, this is gonna change things. Midge can blame the fuckin’ weather all she wants—that is not what made her sleep with Lenny.

God, she’s already such a handful. Now Susie’s gotta deal with Midge in love.

#my writing #The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel #tmmm #tmmm spoilers #Midge Maisel #Susie Myerson #Midge x Lenny

[golden-barnes]

Plum tarts and red carnations

Pairing: Florist! Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Bucky is enamored with one of the employees of the bakery in front of his store.

Category: Fluff

Warning:s some self-doubting thoughts and cursing .

Word count: 2.5k

Author’s note: I have been thinking about this since that one anon and thank you @buckycuddlebuddy because you helped to inspire me further with this. Also think of Bucky as Beefy because I'm a softy for a gentle giant. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

“Damn Jerry. You’ve been growing nicely. A little bit more, and you will be ready to find a new home, bud.” Bucky whispered to the little sprout he was watering. Bucky loved his morning routine.

Before opening up his shop, he would check on his nursery. Water the plants in his greenhouse, checking them to see how they have grown. He liked talking to them; they never judged him or ignored him. He even named them. Sam would help, too, though he treated it more as a joke.

After checking on the nursery, he would focus on making bouquets and arrangements for the store. Nobody knew he was the one who made those beautiful arrangements, and he liked it.

It was like therapy for him. Matching the flowers and creating bouquets with meaning was a talent Bucky didn’t know he had. By this point, the shop was opened and ready for business.

While preparing a rose bouquet, he saw a woman in an apron running out of the new coffee shop from the table next to the cash register. Oh shit, she’s pretty. He thought. He kept staring at her and forgot the fresh roses next to him, grabbed one carelessly.

“Fuck.” He accidentally pricked his finger with a thorn. He applied pressure to his wounded finger.

“Oh, are you okay, sir?” The pretty woman from the bakery asked. Bucky didn’t notice her entering the shop, and now she was here. Looking disheveled but incredibly beautiful.

“Yeah, happens all the time. What can I help you with?” He said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He could hear Sam’s voice in his head. “Play it cool, Buck.”The woman let out a sigh.

“I’m co-owner of the coffee shop, and it’s our opening day. I was encharged of the decorations, and I ordered some flowers from this other place, but when they got here, they were horrible. Like really bad. And oh god, I’m rambling, but I need a brand new arrangement.” She said all in one breath. Bucky had to fight a smile from appearing. Adorable.

“It’s okay. What colors did you want?” Bucky asked. The woman smiled at him.

“We wanted white and purples. Something simple. But honestly, I know nothing of flowers. I don’t understand why Wanda put me up with this? Now we are late, and I still have to finish decorating the cupcakes.” She explained while Bucky started to search for the flowers in his shop.

“Lilacs, with white peonies and lavender roses, would make a nice bouquet. How does that sound?” Bucky showed her the flowers he was referring to. The woman gasped.

“Oh, they are so pretty! You, sir, are a genius.” She gushed, still looking at the flowers. Bucky felt his cheeks getting red from receiving praise.

“I can bring it to you,” Buckywhispered, afraid that she might not like that idea. “You know, because you still have some stuff to finish, so you can do it, and I’ll bring it to you in less than 10 minutes.” She looked at him and went to hug him. Bucky tensed, not expecting the hug, but soon relaxed.

“You are literally my hero. Just ask for Y/N,” She said, walking towards the exit. “Wait, what’s your name?” She added, opening the door to leave.

“Bucky.” Y/N smiled at him. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky has never worked on an arrangement as hard as this one. He was already meticulous, but he really wanted to impress Y/N. Can you blame him? The pretty girl needed his help, and he wanted her to be happy. He even added some baby’s breath and this new white ribbon that had come in for weddings. He was very proud of it but also very nervous.

With a deep breath, Bucky entered the coffee shop. A brunette was at the door, cleaning the tables.

“Sorry, Sir. We are still aren’t open.” She said. Bucky gulped.

“Uhm. I’m looking for Y/N.” He told her; she looked at the flowers in his hands and understood. She yelled for Y/N, who came out of the kitchen with icing on her check, giving him the brightest smile.

“Hey, Bucky! That’s beautiful! How did you make such a pretty arrangement in less than 20 minutes?” She grabbed the vase out of his hands and set it on the counter. Bucky blushed and scratched his neck, shying away.

“It’s nothing.. I’m just happy you liked it.”

“How much do I owe you?” She asked. Bucky put his hands up.

“Oh, it’s on the house. Don’t worry. Call it a welcome gift.” He explained; Y/N jumped and gave him another hug. This time Bucky wrapped his arms around her.

“You are the nicest person on this fucking planet. I have to make it up to you. What’s your favorite fruit?” She pulled away from him and looked at Bucky in the eye. Bucky felt his breath hitch, and his palms get sweaty.

“I-I like plums.” He stuttered. She gave him a big smile and handed him a cookie.

“Hmm, I can make something with that.” She winked at him.

-

“I still haven’t named you, but honestly, I don’t know. You look like a Janelle, but also, I feel like that doesn’t fit.” Bucky said to the new cactus that arrived yesterday, in the afternoon.

“I think she looks like a Lucille.” Bucky turned around and saw Y/N with a box in hand.

“Oh, hi.” He felt embarrassed. She had heard him talk to his plants. Not even Steve had seen that. It was his private thing.

“She’s cute. What type of cactus is it?” She looked at it, not looking weirded out or anything.

“It’s called a Bishop’s cap. They grow to be very pretty and sprout a yellow flower. Not very popular in the shop, but there’s this new cactus crazy going on, and I thought to stock up.” Bucky explained, putting the cactus down next to the others.

“Do you name all your plants?” Bucky gulped and turned around to face her.

“Yeah, and talk to them too.” Bucky fought the urge to punch himself. Why would he say that? Fuck, now she is gonna think he is a fucking weirdo.

Much to his surprise, she smiled at him. She suddenly remembered the box she brought and opened it.

“For saving me yesterday, I made you a plum tart.” She opened it and pulled out the tart. Bucky felt his heart beating faster, and his hands get clammy.

“You didn’t have to.” “Ah! I beg to differ. Everyone that walked into our shop loved the flowers. They were really something. Like I couldn’t stop looking at them. So I had to show you my gratitude the only way I know how. With treats.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat that all alone. Want to share?” Bucky asked, giving her puppy eyes so she wouldn’t say no.

“You drive a hard bargain, Bucky. Has anyone ever told you can get away with murder with those eyes?” Y/N joked.

“I think my grandma’ probably said it. I have some silverware in the shop’s kitchen. When you have to be at your shop?” Bucky said, signaling her to follow him.

“I’m on break—perks of being the boss.” She explained while Bucky grabbed a few paper plates, forks, and a knife. She grabbed the knife and cut a big piece, and gave it to Bucky. Then she cut a piece for herself.

Bucky took a bite and accidentally let out a moan.

“I take it; you like it.” She winked at Bucky. He diverted his gaze from her. Why the fuck did I do that? Bucky screamed internally.

“It’s delicious. I can see why your shop has been packed since yesterday. Reminds me of my ma’s.” Bucky admitted.

“I’m glad, but I can’t take all the credit. You should see the coffee mixes Wanda came up with. They are the real star.” Bucky smiled at her. Nice and pretty… She let out a cough.

“How did you get really good with plants? Like sorry for the personal question, but you have a talent.” She inquired.

“Well, uhm. After getting discharged, my friend Sam suggested that I take classes to handle stress and PTSD. One of the classes was gardening, and I just found it so calming. So I started taking more courses and learning ‘till I decided to start my own business. I don’t think I could ever work anywhere else.” Bucky noticed her staring at him. “What?” He said, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how you are the nicest man I’ve ever meet.” She said nonchalantly. Bucky chuckled.

“It’s nothing major. I just found my calling.” Bucky stated.

“I feel the same. I baked a lot in college, and then suddenly I was like fuck, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She recalled. Her eyes glowed under the light of the kitchen.

“I felt the same way when I started this shop.” Bucky admitted, she bit back a smile.

“By the way, I like the name—Howling’s flowers. Oh, and how pretty this store is, it looks like I walked in a magical forest.” She complimented.

“I- thanks. I named my store after my squad and the decor well; that’s kind of an embarrassing story.” Bucky chuckled nervously. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. I own a coffee shop named Magic café, and all of our items are named after magical things. I am the last person to judge.” Bucky bit his lip nervously while listening to her.

“I based it on The Hobbit. It was my favorite book when I was younger, and I just couldn’t imagine decoring this store anyway else.” Y/N looked at him with an open mouth.

“Okay, are you government android? Because you are friendly, great with plants and well-read. You are too good to be true.” She laughed. Bucky needs to find a way to blush less in her presence because this is like the fourth or fifth time it has happened.

They finished eating their pieces of tart and talking for a while. Y/N decided to go back to the shop, not realizing how much time she spent there. Before leaving, Bucky gave her some more lavender roses.

“Oh, Bucky, you don’t have to.” She protested.

“It’s just to add to the arrangement. I feel like it was missing a few more roses. You’ll be doing me a favor.” He assured. She grabbed the flowers and smelt them before smiling and giving him a small thanks.

Little did she know that lavender Roses mean love at first sight.

They played that little game for weeks, almost 2 months. Y/N would take her lunch break at Bucky’s shop. Feed him some food and pastries that she was experimenting with, and he would give her flowers.

“To put on the counter. Your store deserves fresh flowers every day.” Bucky claimed. But in actuality, all the flowers meant something. The white camellias? He was telling her that he admired her. The amaryllis? That he found you beautiful. The white and purple stocks? A silent plea for bonds of affection from your part. But he couldn’t bring himself to say these things out loud.

Speaking to Y/N in flowers was much easier. Maybe because she didn’t know and couldn’t reject him.

“Bucky, you gotta tell her, man.” Steve would try to reason with him. “She likes you; you like her. Just tell her that you like her or ask her out on a date.”

“You don’t get it, Steve.” Bucky would argue, which led to an entire discussion on how Bucky is being a coward that ended with him telling Steve and Sam to fuck off.

But they were right; it was simple. She has been an absolute doll with him. She doesn’t mind hearing his rants about the new book he read and helped him water his plants. She even bought waterproof labels to put their names on their planters. She even asked (more like demanded) Bucky to send her the pictures of every bouquet and arrangement he made. She loved seen his creations.

And he loved being her test subject. She would bring him new pastries to try. He was her official taste tester. Anything new in the store, Bucky had already tried it in every one of its variations. Y/N would speak to him of all of her special interests and all of her new hobbies. He had even met all her friends, and they loved him.

So why was this so difficult? Bucky groaned while arranging the flowers at the front of the shop.

“What’s got you all groaning and gloomy, Bucky-bear?” Y/N asked him. She looked radiant in her work clothes. Ugh, Bucky had it bad.

“Nothing, j-just thinking.” He nervously replied.

“Don’t overthink. You might over-heat your brain, bubs.” She joked, entering Bucky’s shop. And like the hopeless romantic he is, he followed.

“Soooooooo I have been trying out this new pasta recipe, and you are the only one I trust to give me the truth.” She said, opening the Tupperware she brought. Bucky’s heart fluttered at her words. He felt light-headed; maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“I like you.” He blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Y/N turned to him, widen eyes, and mouth gaped.

“Bucky, do you mean that? Because if you are playing with me, I will fight you with this.” She warned Bucky, threatening with a spoon.

“I like you a lot. Actually love you. I- that’s what those flowers meant.” Bucky explained. Y/N put down the spoon.

“What flowers?” She asked, in the softest tone he has ever heard her speak in. Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed that this was his confession.

“All of them. They all meant love in one form or the other.” He admitted. Y/N stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. He felt his heart do backflips.

“What flower means I’m in love with you, Bucky?” She asked, caressing his cheek.

“Maybe red carnations.” He joked, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll ask this handsome florist with a heart of gold to make me a bouquet to give you.” Bucky chuckled while she let out a little giggle.

“I would love a bouquet, but I would much rather have a plum tart from the sexy baker on the store out front.” Y/N hummed.

“I think I can make that happen.” She said, pulling him closer. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?” She asked; Bucky could only nod.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, molding her body against him. Their lips gliding over each other smoothly, as if they were made for each other.

They pulled away to take a breath, and they both had the same dopey smile. Tarts and carnations. Who knew they mixed so well?

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you