Tumgik
#I need a clear head and a calm and steady heart beat
Text
Tumblr media
I made this playlist to set my heart beats. Every time I got this feeling that I can hear my heart racing and going all over the place because the arrhythmia Covid bestow upon me. I find listening to house music from this tempo can set an even heart rate. This is not relaxing and soothing music, because life is not. The idea it's to find calm and contemplation from the chaos of the everyday life. To learn to run and even each leap with an even tempo.
Meditation it's not always possible from the peace within. But it has to start somewhere. Better use the racing pulse and relentless demands of life to adjust you own confortable rhythm.
5 notes · View notes
ithebookhoarder · 4 months
Text
(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them
A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show
Tumblr media
Aaron Hotchner
Tumblr media
Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through. 
If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.  
It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest. 
He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes. 
However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’. 
However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him. 
In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain. 
He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death. 
Tumblr media
David Rossi 
Tumblr media
Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.
“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?” 
It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close. 
He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded. 
If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it. 
“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.” 
He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up. 
He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force. 
Tumblr media
Derek Morgan
Tumblr media
This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is. 
He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened. 
If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance. 
However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat. 
He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you. 
“Only the best for you, hot stuff.” 
He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him. 
Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it. 
Tumblr media
Emily Prentiss
Tumblr media
She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public. 
She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do. 
However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this. 
She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her. 
She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable. 
She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected. 
After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it. 
Tumblr media
JJ
Tumblr media
JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace. 
It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it. 
She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest. 
JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.
She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir. 
“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”   
If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed. 
However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.
Tumblr media
Penelope Garcia 
Tumblr media
This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly. 
“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”
She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment. 
They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.
She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home. 
If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you. 
They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building. 
“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.” 
Tumblr media
Dr Spencer Reid
Tumblr media
Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him. 
He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep. 
At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing. 
However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case. 
In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him. 
He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in. 
He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby. 
Masterlist
2K notes · View notes
st4rfckerz · 1 month
Text
Late Night Call | Nerdy!Anakin x Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
word count: 1.8k
warnings: MDNI 18+, masturbating (both), voice kink, praise, nerdy!anakin is a whiny little mess.
summary: Your voice is enough to get Anakin all worked up.
Tumblr media
The silence of the night seemed to be swallowing the entire city as Anakin lay sprawled in his bed, staring at the ceiling. With a yawn, Anakin lifted the blocky landline phone off its cradle, the dial tone echoing through the receiver. As he recited the familiar numbers, he couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
"Hello?" a gentle voice answered on the other line.
"Hey, I didn't wake you up did I?" Anakin mumbled into the phone, his voice barely above a whisper. The soft sound of rustling sheets and a yawn came from the other end of the line.
There was a pause before you replied. You knew that voice. "No, you caught me at a good time. What's going on?"
"Oh, well, nothing really I just wanted to talk to you," he stammered, trying to mask his nervousness. "I'm putting off writing this paper too actually," Anakin admits almost sounding like he was ashamed of himself. "I don't know, I just don't feel like its good enough." He brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he could feel the small migraine coming in through to temples of his skull.
"Hey, it's alright," your soft voice reassured him from the other side of the line, sending a wave of calm washing over his senses. It was enough to ease his nerves, even if just a little. "You're human, and mistakes happen. You can't expect perfection from yourself all the time."
As the comforting voice continued speaking into the phone, Anakin's breath hitched in his throat. His heartbeat pulsed rapidly in his ears, matching the cadence of the soft whispers. Slowly, the warmth that had started in his chest spread through his limbs, igniting a fire within him. His thoughts raced, his imagination running wild with images of you on the other end of the line, your voice painting vivid pictures in his mind. The soothing voice was a siren song, drawing him in deeper with each passing second.
"What're you writing about anyways?" your voice rings softly through the line. Anakin clenched his eyes shut, his grip on the receiver tightened, as if he could somehow draw strength from the cold plastic. This isn't right, he chided himself, yet he couldn't resist the pull.
He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, it's about a new tech startup in Silicon Valley, something boring like that." Anakin managed to amswer, his voice cracking slightly. His hand subconsciously rubbed against his crotch, and he discreetly adjusted his pants, feeling the bulge growing bigger. He needed to calm down. Fast.
You hum slightly, the topic taking your interest. "That's sounds intriguing, I'd read it. I'm writing about the use of real fur in the fashion industry." Anakin's heart skipped a beat hearing your reply. Real fur? That sounded controversial, edgy, something that would definitely get you a passing grade.
"Oh, really?" he managed to choke out, trying to keep his voice steady. "Do you think it's... you know, ethical?"
"Not at all, there's always faux fur y'know?" you scoff. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. This was school-related, he reminded himself sternly. "Well, I mean, if the demand for real fur decreases, the industry will eventually adapt," he reasoned, trying to sound rational. "Plus, there are ways to ensure animal welfare during the process."
"See! You're so good, it's not even your paper and you're already shooting facts." you praise him innocently. God, he could've came in his boxers if he wasn't being so careful. His head was buzzing with ideas of how he might prolong the conversation so that you could carry on speaking. He just needed to hear you voice.
"Thanks." Anakin laughed nervously, trying to deflect the compliment. "So, um... how's everything else been? Anything exciting happening in your life besides your classes?" He couldn't shake the image of you in that little skirt you decided to wear to class the other day, your tits swaying enticingly in the tight sweater you wore. If it was up to him, he would've fucked you in that classroom in front of everyone. His cock twitched in his pants, growing harder by the minute.
"Not really, my roommate's gonna be out of town for a family thing, so I'll have a whole boring week by myself." you explain.
"Oh, really?" Anakin's eyes widened in delight, his heart racing faster than ever. He shifted in his seat, his cock throbbing against his pajama pants "So, uh, want to meet up sometime? Just you and me?" He forced himself to sound innocent, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying his true intentions.
His hand reached down his pants, feeling the head of his cock peeking out from his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around it, stroking slowly, trying to calm down. He had to focus on their conversation, at least until she agreed to meet up with him. He inadvertently let a whine slip out of his mouth as he swept his fingers across his sensitive tip.
"Anakin? Are you ok?" you ignore his question. Is he? No, he wouldn't. You think to yourself.
"Y-yeah just keep talking, 'm listening." Anakin stammered. His hand continued to stroke his cock unabashedly, increasing the speed slightly. He was so lost in the mind that he didn't even think about the possibility of you being able to hear the quiet slick sounds coming from his end of the line.
He is.
"Ani, I know what you're doing." you state bluntly. His eyes spring open and his hand slows down its movement on his cock.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't help it, y-you can hang up if you want I just-" he blurts out his words but you instantly interrupt him.
"Why would I want to hang up?"
"What?" Anakin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was sure you'd call him a sick freak and never talk to him again.
"I'm not hanging up," His heart raced wildly, his cock throbbing harder than ever. He couldn't resist your voice. "Does it feel good Ani?"
"Mhm, wish it was you." he admits breathlessly, his fingers tightening around his cock. Anakin's heartbeat pounded in his ears.
"Yeah? Tell me what you're thinking about baby." you chide. You could feel your cunt getting increasingly wetter as you continued to speak to him, it makes you squirm as the heat continues to spread through your body.
"Just you, 's always you," he confessed, his voice cracking with lust. "I wanna touch you and taste you everywhere." His hand picked up speed, and his cock twitched violently in his pants.
"You wanna taste me?" you egg him on. His voice sounded so desperate it was almost pathetic.
"Uh huh, I wanna taste you," Anakin's voice trembled with desire. "Everywhere. Mmph- your lips, your neck, your pussy, everywhere."
He couldn't help but wonder how you would sound, how you would taste, how you would react to his advances. His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing violently in his pants. He needed relief, needed you to stop teasing him.
"Are you gonna be a good boy for me Ani?" you whisper, your voice dropping down an octave.
"I'll be anything you want me to be," Anakin panted, his voice hoarse with desire. "Just please keep talking." He couldn't contain himself anymore, his hand moving faster. "I'll do anything you say, just tell me what you want."
"I wanna hear you beg to cum." you demand as you begin to slowly graze your beating clit over your panties, soon dipping your hand underneath them to be met with your soaking cunt. "You're making me so wet Ani." Your fingers swirled little circles against your tiny bud, causing you to let out a small moan.
Anakin groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, I need it so bad." He couldn't stand it anymore, he had to release the pressure building up inside him. "I'll be good I promise," he pleaded, his voice breaking. Anakin's heart stopped for a moment as he heard the wet sounds coming from the other end. "Are you touching yourself?"
"Mhm, feels so good." you moan as you curl your delicate fingers inside your drooling pussy. His cock jerked in his hand and  his mind filled with images of you fingering yourself.
"Ah- fuck." His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He bit his lower lip, trying to control himself, but his body betrayed him. "I'm close, so close-" he panted. His hips rocked back and forth in sync with each stroke. and he could feel his orgasm building up, he knew it wouldn't be long now. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his breathing became shallow and erratic.
"Cum for me pretty boy, I wanna hear you." He couldn't hold it back any longer. With one last hard stroke, he came, his balls tightening and his cock spurting a warm stream of cum onto his blankets. He let out a loud groan, his entire body shaking with pleasure.
You can feel your own orgasm creeping up inside you as you vigorously pumped your fingers into your cunt. "Shit Ani 'm cumming!" you squeal. Anakin's eyes widened, a low growl escaping his lips as he heard you ride out your orgasm. His chest heaved, little beads of sweat trickled down his face as he tried to catch his breath.
For a moment, you both sat there, panting and recovering from your orgasms. Then, finally, Anakin found the courage to speak again. "We should... we should probably hang up, huh?" he said hesitantly.
"I guess we could," you chuckle at his awkwardness. "I'm tired now." Anakin smiled weakly, wiping away the remaining streaks of sweat from his forehead. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. He looked at his watch, noting the time. "There's no way I'm finishing this paper tonight." He laughs at himself.
"Me neither, I'll do it eventually." you smile at his awkwardness, you always found it cute. "Will I be seeing you in Callahan's tomorrow?" you ask him, hoping he'll be there waiting on you with an empty seat next to his like always.
Anakin chuckled softly, feeling a bit embarrassed but relieved. He quickly cleaned himself up and took in a deep breath. "Yep, I'll be there," he replied, his voice steady once again. "Maybe we could grab coffee afterwards? If you're free, that is."
There was silence on the line before you spoke, but he hoped you'd accept his invitation. He needed to see you again, to be near you.
"That sounds great Anakin." you beam.
He smiled, grateful for the chance to talk to you without all the tension hanging over them. "See you tomorrow, then." he added, his voice friendly and casual.
You said your goodbyes and Anakin ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. As he hung up the phone, he glanced down at his sticky pants, a small smile playing on his lips. He couldn't wait for tomorrow's class.
Tumblr media
805 notes · View notes
girlgenius1111 · 4 months
Text
who could stay?
Tumblr media
alexia x r
r is struggling with her anxiety. Alexia wants nothing more than to help. Will r let her?
CW for panic attacks / general depictions of anxiety.
Alexia knew something was up with you. Recently, you'd been attached at the hip to her. This wasn't something she minded, not at all, it was just quite out of character for you. You'd responded to her attempts to figure out what was wrong with tight lipped smiles, and clear lies that you were fine. You looked exhausted, which she didn't understand. You spent most nights at her apartment, and there was no indication that you weren't sleeping, yet the bags under your eyes only darkened. You made no indication that you wanted to speak to her about what was wrong, but luckily, she caught you getting out of bed one night.
Alright, she didn't catch you getting out of bed, but she rolled over, half asleep, looking for you to snuggle up against, eyes snapping open when she found your side of the bed empty. Still warm, but empty. She was instantly awake, and worried. She first looked to the bathroom, but the light was off, the door ajar. There was no light flowing in from the hallway, but she headed that way anyway, not sure where else you would be.
Entering the living room, she could just barely make you out on the couch, head in your hands, body seemingly shuddering with every breath.
"Amor?" she called softly, flicking on the light as she did so. Your head snapped up, wild eyes meeting hers. Your eyes were red, and tear tracks stained your cheeks. Alexia moved to your side quickly, crouching down in front of you. "Hey, amor, what is wrong?"
"No-nothing. I'm fine. Go ba-back to sleep, Ale," you gasped out. Alexia frowned in response, making no move to do as you said.
"Mi vida, why are you out here? Why did you not wake me?" Alexia was confused. She'd seemed to have found the root of why you looked so exhausted, but she still wasn't sure why she found you crying, by yourself on the living room couch, in the middle of the night.
You were quickly losing the ability to speak, though, something that Alexia picked up on. "What can I do?" she asked, begged really. She hated seeing you like this, hated not being able to help. In response, having clearly given up on trying to force her to go to bed, you gripped onto her forearm, your desire obvious. She moved up onto the couch, pulling you securely into her chest. Your ear was pressed right over her heart, and you tried to calm down, listening to the steady beats.
"Shh, you are okay, bonita, I've got you," Alexia soothed, and you tried to focus on her words. You were okay. You were safe. You were with Alexia. You were clinging onto her quite hard, and she held you with equal force. "Breath for me, amorcita, in and out, just like that."
Alexia's voice was comforting, and she talked you through the worst of the panic attack, only pulling away once you're breathing was almost normal.
"Thank you," you told her, eyes downcast.
"Of course," she paused, not really sure what to ask first. "How long has this been going on?"
"Only a week," you replied, and Alexia sighed in response.
"A week of waking in the middle of the night like this, and you did not get me once?"
"I didn't want to bother you, Ale,"
"You are not capable of bothering me," the midfielder argued, but she took a breath, not wanting to get frustrated when you were clearly still so upset. "Is something causing it?"
You stayed silent.
"Amorcita, please let me in. I want to help, I do not like seeing you so upset," Alexia begged.
"I stopped taking my anxiety medication," you admitted.
"Porque?" Alexia questions, looking stunned. You shrug. "Porque, amor?" Alexia asks again.
"I don't like relying on it. It messes with my mood, and I just don't want it anymore, I don't need it."
"Clearly, you do need it. There is nothing wrong with needing to take something for your anxiety, y/n." Alexia states, trying to keep her voice even. "Did you talk to your doctor about going off?"
"No," you reply, voice small.
"Amor, come on. That is not safe,"
"It's fine, Alexia, please just leave it," you respond, trying to sound firmer than you felt.
"No, I will not. I care about you, and I do not like it when you are unkind to yourself. You deserve to feel good everyday, and if medication helps you feel that, then you should take it. You are going to talk to your doctor, go back on your meds, and if you want to change something with them, you will do it under the supervision of a medical professional. Entiendes?"
"Si," you respond quietly, and Alexia is surprised at how quickly you give up. Your dropping eyes tell her why, though, and she drops her stern attitude.
"Venga, mi vida, let's go back to bed." You allow her to guide you back into bed, but clearly, you you think she's still mad at you, because you lay on the edge of your side of the bed, as far from her as you could get. You feel her pull on your shirt, and you turn, eyes watery. Alexia is laying facing you, arms open, a soft look on her face, and you waste no time scooting over into her warm embrace.
"I want you to talk to me, mi amor. When you are anxious, I want you to tell me, so I can help," Alexia whispers into your hair.
"I hate bothering you."
"Listen to me, por favor. You could never bother me, especially not when you're sharing your feelings with me. Vale?"
"Okay." You allow, after considering for a minute.
"Do you think you can go to sleep?"
You shrug. "I'm still kind of anxious," you mumble. Alexia presses a kiss into your hair, sliding her hand under your shirt, and beginning to run her nails up and down your back. She feels you relax more against her.
"There you go, amor. Just focus on the feeling of my hand on you. Everything is okay," she promises.
"Love you," you murmur, words almost lost in the fabric of her shirt.
"Te amo mucho, bonita." Alexia responds, only letting herself fall asleep once she was sure you had first.
-----
The first time you do as Alexia asked, and tell her when you're feeling anxious, is only a few days later. You're back on your medication, having met with your psychiatrist, who agreed to look into other options, so long as you went back on the current one for now. It was still an adjustment, though, and you were still significantly more anxious than normal. Alexia had taken to holding you tight against her while you both slept, which had worked in 2 ways. You hadn't woken up having a panic attack, and even if you had, you wouldn't have been able to slip out of bed without her noticing.
You've both returned from practice, and Alexia is in the kitchen, making a snack, when you decide that you are feeling to uneasy to sit and wait for her. Being in physical contact with her was one of the only things that was always successful in calming you down. Entering the kitchen, you quietly pad over to Alexia, wrapping your arms around her abdomen, and resting your head against her back. She stills her movements, cutting up strawberries, and puts the knife down, placing her hands over yours.
"Hola," she says quietly.
"Hi," you respond, voice shakier than you would have preferred.
"Everything okay?" she asks carefully, aware that it is not, but wanting you to come to her.
"No," you say. You mean to follow it up with something else, but your throat feels tight, as you swallow back tears, and you can't get another word out. Alexia doesn't need more, though, turning around and holding you tight against her chest, swaying you both back and forth lightly. You let out a shaky breath, feeling yourself already calming slightly.
"Thank you for telling me," Alexia says, aware of what a big step that simple word had been for you. "Can I do anything?"
"I don’t know," you admit, words dripping with vulnerability.
“That is okay. I’ve got you." She reassures, guiding your head away from her neck, and pressing her forehead to hers. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh. After a few moments, you pull away, feeling somewhat calmer. You only make it as far as Alexia’s arms allow, as she isn’t letting go.
“Make your snack, Ale,” you instruct, but she simply shakes her head, manhandling you into the position she wants you in. Once she has you stood in front of her, arms wrapped around her body, she resumes her snack preparations, looking over your shoulder as she cuts the fruit.
You chuckle lightly into her at her ridiculousness, but she ignores you, not letting you move from your spot nestled against her.
“We’re becoming that couple, Alexia. The annoyingly clingy couple.”
“No me importa. I like you clingy.” She declares, shuffling the both of you across the kitchen to put the strawberries back in the fridge. By the time she’s put the snack in a bowl, not letting you even an inch away from her, you’re both laughing.
Finally, she lets you go, smiling triumphantly at your significantly more relaxed behavior. She places a strawberry piece into your mouth, pecking your lips lightly.
“Better?”
“Yeah. So much better.” You promise, returning her soft smile.
“Bueno!” She replies, before taking the bowl in one large hand, and scooping you up and over her shoulder in the other. Her strength impresses you, but still, you squirm slightly as she carries you into the living room towards the couch.
“Alexia!! You’re being absurd” you laugh, and she playfully smacks your ass with the hand holding onto you. “Alexia Putellas Segura, put me down!”
Arriving at the couch, she tosses you easily down, and you bounce slightly. She’s looking down at you with a smirk, and you can’t help your lips tugging into a matching one. Just when you think she’s going to be normal again, she sprawls herself on top of you, larger body enveloping yours, as she shifts around making herself comfortable.
“No room for you to be anxious now, amor.” She says matter of factly, and you wrap your arms around her. It sounds absurd, but really, she’s right. Her weight on you is the perfect amount of pressure, and the smell of her perfume invading your senses slows your heartbeat easily.
Alexia reaches over to the table grabbing both the remote and bowl in her hand, making her intention to not get off of you clear.
“I like you clingy too.” You mumble, and the blonde offers you another strawberry. Your hands busy holding onto her, so you open your mouth, rolling your eyes, as she places it carefully in your mouth. You aren’t annoyed, not at all. You didn’t know what you needed before, but Alexia did. She always did.
----
The next time you ask Alexia for help, it’s a much bigger hit to your pride. You’ve just gotten into a fight, which ended with Alexia storming out of the house to “go on a drive and clear her head.”
It was a stupid fight; both of you thought the other was taking on too much at Barca and your respective national teams, and the lack of time together had been taking its toll. Frustrated, and really just missing each other, you’d gotten into an argument about which of you was too busy. It was both of you. Neither of you were ever people to give up, or step away, even when it was for the best, so you took your exhaustion and frustration out on each other.
You know both of you just need to calm down, and you would have given her the space to do so. Only, the minute she walks out of the house, you begin spiraling. You panic in a way that is completely disproportionate to the situation, but you can’t help it. She’s mad at you and you hate when she’s mad at you.
You need to do something to stop your panic. Your psychiatrist has decided on a new medication plan, in which you are on a lower dose of everyday meds, and take an as needed medication when you’re feeling extra anxious.
This is one of those times, you realize, as you shakily unscrew the bottle, and realize that it’s empty. You’d forgotten to pick up the refill earlier in the week, when you’d woken up anxious, and taken the last pill half asleep.
Cursing under your breath, you go to the bedroom, sitting down in the dimly lit room, and trying to do the breathing exercises you’d been practicing. It’s futile though, you’re already too far gone for that to work. You need either Alexia, or your medication.
You think about the conversations you’ve had with her over the past weeks, in which she assured you, over and over, that she would always be there to help you when you needed her. You aren’t really sure if she meant for you to talk to her when she was mad at you, though.
Deciding that you don’t really have a choice, you pull out your phone, clicking your girlfriend’s contact. You’ll just ask her to pick up your new prescription from the pharmacy, not to come help you. You don’t expect her to do anymore than that, not right now.
To her credit, she answers after only a couple rings, although her voice is still sharp.
“Sí?” She asks, not bothering to greet you, a sign of how upset she is.
“Alexia,” you say, not able to hide the relief you feel at the sound of her voice. You’re breathing heavily now, and you have to pause before you say anything else.
“What is it?” She asks, shifting to a more concerned tone.
“Get my refill of my meds?” You manage.
“Joder, yes, I will go now.” She answers, and you can hear the tires screeching as she makes what is probably an unsafe u-turn. Clearly, Alexia understands what’s going on with you, and it makes you feel better, if only slightly, that she doesn’t sound as mad anymore, just worried.
“Sorry,” you stutter, feeling bad for interrupting her time alone.
“No, it is okay,” she dismisses. “I will be there in 10.”
With that, she hangs up. You lean your head back against the bed, gripping the soft carpet under you in your hands. Shutting your eyes, it feels like only minutes have passed when you hear the front door open, and Alexia call out for you.
“Up here,” you yell out shakily. Alexia’s footsteps pound on the stairs as she races up them, bursting into your room and ruining the peaceful atmosphere that had been in place. She looks almost as upset as you feel, as she crosses the room in 3 long strides, grabbing a glass of water from your nightstand, and quickly getting out a pill.
She watches you take it, eyebrows knit together as she takes in your labored breathing. After a second of thought, she settles down next to you, leaving you the option of scooting closer to her.
“You can go, it’s okay.” You tell her, assuming she doesn’t want to comfort you, not when you just had a fight. Her tone tells you otherwise.
“Do not be stupid, I am not leaving.”
“But you needed to—“
“And you need me.” She says simply, as if you’re the only thing that matters. It dawns on you that maybe you are. You meet her eyes, then, and see nothing but love reflecting back at you. Not anger, not frustration, none of the things present before she’d stormed out. Convinced, you lean into her, resting your head on her shoulder. You allow yourself to forget about the fight, push all your worries from your brain, as you focus on your breathing, and steady, dependable Alexia next to you.
“Did you really think I would leave you like this?” The blonde asks quietly after a minute.
“You were mad. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d wanted to go.”
Alexia scoffs. “I love you more than I could ever be mad at you. If you need me, I will be here. No matter what.”
It’s not the first time you’ve heard this from her, but it’s the first time you really believe it. Maybe Alexia was telling the truth. Maybe there really wasn’t anything you could do to push her away, scare her off. She’d stuck with you through all the things you thought she wouldn’t, holding your hand, softly kissing your cheek through everything thrown your way.
It was overwhelming, the love you felt from her in that moment. You often felt like you couldn’t put into words how much you loved Alexia, but this was the first time that you’ve really been convinced that she loves you just as much as you love her.
You look up at her, eyes glassy, mouth opening and closing as you try to figure out what to say, how to express what you feel for her.
“What, amor?” She questions softly. Her eyebrows are scrunched again, and this time you aren’t panicking, and you can appreciate how cute it is, the way her worry for you is painted clearly across her face.
“I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Alexia, I really don’t. You’re- you’re everything to me. Everything.” You whisper back.
Alexia’s face melts, all the tension leaving her, as she grabs your face in her hands, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. You fall into it, the feeling of her lips moving desperately, but gently, against your own.
As you kiss her, you think you’ve maybe defined it, how much she means to you. Alexia is everything. Everything you could ever want or need.
——-
This wasn’t a request, just something I decided to write when I was anxious. I hope you guys like it anyway.
676 notes · View notes
cozage · 1 year
Text
Captured by Marines
Characters: Luffy, Law, Ace cw: f! reader, angst, gore, mentions of injury/surgery A/N: A bit of a 180 from my post this morning haha! Also, I know I put it in the cw but again, this is obviously going to have some angst and there are also varying mentions of gore. I'm going to tag each individual story with major content warnings, hope that helps.
Luffy
A/N: spoilers for Marineford ahead in this one. 
“Listen Luffy,” Nami begins hesitantly. “I need you to sit down, and remain calm when I tell you this.” 
“What’s up, Nami?” He jokes, laughing at her tone. “You’re always so serious!” He hasn’t realized you were missing yet, or noticed the tears in Nami’s eyes. 
“Luffy…” Nami takes a ragged breath to steady herself. “It’s Y/N. She-” Nami breaks off unable to finish the sentence, tears finally pouring out of her eyes.
Her tears surprise him, and Luffy’s head snaps around, suddenly very aware of his surroundings. You’re not here. You’re not at the rendezvous point. He does a crew count, everyone is here except you. He does the count again. One short. And Nami crying…
He grabs Nami’s shoulders firmly. “Where is she, Nami?” He begins to shake her, trying to get the words out faster. “Where is Y/N?!”
Nami is sobbing now, inconsolable. Luffy knows she’s trying to speak, but the words simply won’t come. “Nami, TELL ME! TELL ME WHERE SHE IS?” He can’t stop shaking her. He knows it’s not helping, but he needs her words to come out faster. He needs to know that you’re safe.
“Luffy, that’s enough.” Sanji takes a long drag off the cigarette between his lips, ready to step in at any moment. “Calm down. You shouldn’t be acting that way towards a lady.”
“THEN TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!” Luffy roars out to the room, but he releases his navigator. Nami backs away from him until her back hits a wall, and then sinks to the ground. 
“I’m sorry,” she sobs into her hands again and again. “I’m so sorry, Luffy.”
“She got taken.” Sanji says in her place. He takes another inhale off the cigarette and removes it from his mouth. He makes brief eye contact with Zoro, both of them prepping for the worst reaction from their captain. “By the Marines.”
Luffy stands there, stunned for a moment. Surely he had misheard Sanji. There was a strange ringing in his ears, and his vision started to get dark around the edges. “By the…marines?”
Sanji sighs. “Yeah. She was protecting Nami, and they got her with the sea prism stone cuffs and made a quick escape. We tried to get her back, but they were quick. It almost felt like that was their mission the whole time.”
Sanji mouth kept moving, but Luffy couldn’t hear him. He could only hear your laugh, see your smile. And then he hears Ace, thanking him with his final breath. No, the outcome wouldn’t be the same. He was stronger now, and he would save you. He had to save you. 
“We’re not letting them leave this island with her.” His voice is authoritative, even if his entire body is shaking with fear. 
The entire crew responds in unison. “Obviously.”
Rescued
Law
A/N: Injury and surgery mentions
“CAPTAINNN!!!” The Heart Pirates race towards their captain, eager to see him again. It had been too long. He smiles at his crew, but his eyes are scanning the crowd. He can’t locate the two people who are always first to greet him. “Where’s Bepo and Y/N-ya?” You and Bepo had been sent for a reconnaissance mission a few days ago and should’ve arrived back before Law. His unease grew as he watched his crew’s eyes shift nervously between each other. 
Penguin finally clears his throat and speaks up for the crew. “Bepo is back at camp. He got inju-” Law is already on the move, not waiting for Penguin to finish his sentence. He refuses to run, but he’s walking as fast as he can without doing so. 
Penguin is following close behind, not missing a beat. “Captain-” he starts again, trying to find the right words, but he’s cut off again by the surgeon. 
“How critical are they?” He asks, tone clipped. He had used a lot of energy on the mission, but he’d do whatever he needed to in order to keep his crew alive. Especially you and Bepo. 
“Bepo has blunt force trauma to his torso that will probably need to be examined and a deep wound in his leg and paw that will need to be checked out. He’s unconscious but stable.” Penguin responded. He had gotten used to reporting injuries to the Captain. “But, Captain-”
“And Y/N-ya?” Law felt better knowing Bepo was okay, assuming you probably had the same injury status. 
Penguin said nothing for a long moment, which caused Law to glance his way. His mouth felt like sandpaper suddenly, and he realized that Penguin hadn’t actually report about you at all yet. “Penguin,” he prompted again. “What about Y/N?”
“She hasn’t reported in yet.” Penguin’s voice was pained. “We found Bepo unconscious about a half a kilometer from camp.”
Law hissed in disapproval, resisting the urge to Shambles closer to camp. He needed to save what little energy he had left. Penguin kept moving silently beside him, but Law could feel there was something his crew member wasn’t saying. He waited a few moments before he couldn’t stand the tension. “What aren’t you telling me, Penguin?”
“It’s not confirmed.” Penguin starts out, trying to keep it positive. “But Shachi heard something on the radio.”
“What? Spit it out.” Laws tone was dangerously close to being hostile. 
“The Marines said..” Penguin stopped moving, taking a breath, as if to prepare himself.
Law didn’t raise his voice at his crew often, but with a member of his crew injured and another missing, he snapped. He turned on his heels and glared daggers at his subordinate. “Stop keeping me on edge and tell me already, dammit!” 
“The Marines said they had someone in custody!” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a squeak, leaving a heavy weight in the air. 
The captain paused for a moment to take in Penguin’s words, and then turned away, heading towards Bepo again without another word. 
“Ca-Captain?” Penguin was back on his heels again, but Law said nothing. He couldn’t be distracted by a simple rumor. You were probably safe, hiding in the woods, waiting for a moment to come back to camp. Bepo would confirm that when he woke up. 
Penguin tried again. “Captain, it’s just that-”
“You said it wasn’t confirmed right? She’s fine, then. Let’s worry with Bepo, and then we’ll send out a search party for her when we get a better idea of her last location.” The Captain’s confidence in you left Penguin stopped in his tracks, but Law kept moving forward towards his injured crew member, leaving Penguin in the dust. 
Law waited by Bepo’s side after the surgery, within close earshot of Shachi and the radio. He had split the crew into small groups and sent them out to search for you in rotations, but nobody had found any sign of you so far. 
Law couldn’t sleep while you were missing, but he knew he needed rest. He compromised by sitting and staring at the radio, as if he were trying to will it to speak to them. After a few hours of silence, radio static signaled that the channel was active. “Do we have confirmation on the identity of the individual in custody yet?” A husky voice broke the air.
“Standby.” A younger voice responded, maybe even younger than Law.
Law stood up for the first time since he had finished tending to Bepo. “Switch to-”
Shachi was already flipping to the secure line they had tapped earlier. 
The husky voice returned as Shachi hit the channel switch. “-me you have a name, Lieutenant. I’ve got HQ on my ass about this matter.”
“Yessir. We have confirmation that the individual in question is [F/N] [L/N] of the Heart Pirates led by Trafalgar Law.”
The husky-voice man let out an audible gasp. “You better not be shitting me, Lieutenant. You’re positive?”
Shachi looked nervously at his Captain, but Law was fixated on the radio. It had to be a mistake. This couldn’t be happening. 
“Yes sir.” The younger man confirmed. “We have multiple sources from the battlefield confirming her skill and her identity. We’re departing for Impel Down as we speak”.
Law’s breath was shallow. He needed to get to you. To pull you back to safety. “Room.” If he can just make an area wide enough, he can shambles himself to you and free you.
But the effects from the mission and the operation weigh heavy on him, and he can feel his ability fading before he can find your presence. He falls to the ground, the weight of failure finally pushing him over the edge into total exhaustion. He can feel the world spinning, and know he’s far surpassed his limit. 
“Ready the ship to set sail immediately and do so immediately.” He can feel his eyes closing against his will, no matter how determined he is to stay awake. “We’re going after her. Follow them at any cost.”
As he slips from consciousness, he only thinks about you. How he’s lost you, and how he’ll stop at nothing to get you back. 
Rescued
Ace:
A/N: major gore/injuries
“To Whitebeard!” Mugs of various alcohols slammed together for a toast. Ace had Marco in a headlock, laughing and drinking his cup of ale while Marco struggled to get free. 
“I’m just saying we should wait to celebrate!” Marco squirmed below him. “Jozu’s division still isn’t back-”
“Come on, Marco,” Ace jested. “You really have that little faith in division three? I’m telling Y/N. She’ll never forgive you, y’know.”
Marco finally freed himself from Ace’s grip and stood upright, looking out to sea. “It just…they should be back by now.”
As the hours passed and the party raged on, Ace found himself glancing at the horizon more and more frequently. By the time the sun was setting, his gaze was stuck on the path you should be returning back on.  “They should be back by now,” he muttered to himself. “Where are you?” Ace pulls out your vivre card, relieved to find it intact and inching towards the way you should be returning.
He held your vivre card all evening, watching for any signs of distress. Marco sat with him on lookout, waiting for any kind of news as well. It wasn’t until the moon hung high in the sky that lights appeared on the horizon. “They’re back!” Relief washed over him as he shook Marco awake. He tucked your vivre card away and stood up for the first time in hours. “I’m going to go meet them and see what’s going on.”
“Wait, Ace,” Marco started, still groggy with sleep. “It could be-” but Ace was already jumping off the boat, aiming for his Striker. Flames appeared far below where Marco was sitting, and the Striker’s engine roared as it took off towards the approaching ship. 
Ace was used to you all being apart for missions. You were in the third division with Jozu, so it didn’t always line up that you all worked together. But Jozu was a man who was always has his crew back by rendezvous time, and it had been over twelve hours since that time had passed. 
The ship was flying a Whiteboard flag, and he could pick out a few crew members he recognized when he looked through the binoculars. He let out a sigh of relief, finally releasing a burden he didn’t realize he was carrying. The pit that had grown in his stomach over the past half day had been so slow, he didn’t even notice it until it started to ease away. 
The feeling of relief didn’t last long. As he got closer, he realized the ship itself was in bad shape. It had clearly been through an unexpected battle, maybe even more than one. He threw more flames out from his feet and raced towards the ship, the pit in his stomach returning and multiplying by the second. 
He jumped aboard the boat, looking for your face in the crowd, but all he could see were beaten and battered crew mates in various states of conditions. Some had cuts, others were more bandages than human. The smell was worse. The stench of death and distant smell of blood was mixed with a strange smell of meat cooking. Ace’s vision blurred for a second seeing such a sight, and he willed himself to stay focused. 
A deep voice called his name from the other side of the ship. Jozu. He looked around, searching for his fellow commander, but couldn’t locate him. “Down here, man.”
Ace had a pretty iron stomach, but the sight of his friend made it do a few somersaults. Jozu had a horrible head gash that someone was applying constant pressure on, a bandage wrapped around one eye, and the entire left part of his body seemed to be blackened, as if it were burnt. 
“Jozu…” Ace resisted the urge to ask about your status, suddenly afraid of the answer. “What happened?”
“Navy ambush.” Jozu took a ragged breath, and those around him exchanged worried looks. “We didn’t stand a chance.” Jozu was gasping for air at this point, but he was determined to get the information out. “They took prisoners. About 10-15.” It was clear he wanted to relay more information, but his body convulsed with a sudden coughing fit. 
“Who was taken? Where is-” Ace stopped himself right before he says your name, shameful of the fact that he’s prioritizing your life over everyone else. 
His cheeks must’ve turned a shade of red, because a kid passing by glares at him. “If you’re going to vomit, do it over the side of the ship. We have enough to clean up.”
Jozu’s cough finally subsides, and he looks at his brother with deep regret in his eyes. Ace’s heart plummets, and he knows what to expect before the words are out of his mouth. “They took her, Ace. They took Y/N. I’m sorry. I-” whatever Jozu was going to say is cut off by another round of coughing fits, but Ace doesn’t need an explanation. He just needs you back. 
Ace gingerly puts his hand on Jozu’s right shoulder, one of the few places the third division commander doesn’t seem to be injured. “Don’t you worry, Jozu. I’ll get them back.” Without another word, he jumps off the ship and onto his Striker. 
“Hang on, Ace.” Marco’s voice of reason calls out to him from the deck of the ship, and Ace silently curses himself for waking him in the first place. “You need a plan. Don’t go charging into this headfirst. It’ll just get you killed.”
“I have a plan!” Ace fibbed. “I’ll be back in the morning with the prisoners.”
“Ace,” Marco starts. It was clear to him that the freckled boy wouldn’t listen to anyone who stood in his way.
“If they get them to Impel Down it’s over and you know it!” Ace’s panic was starting to show. Marco could see his eyes from the deck, wild and desperate like a cornered animal. 
“Tch, you’re always such a hothead.” Marco chided. “Good luck. I’ll relay what happened to Pops, but be prepared for any consequences when you get back.”
Ace grinned and tipped his hat towards Marco. “Good luck here, Marco. Thanks for everything.” The Striker’s engine roared to life once again, and he pulled out your vivre card, ready to follow your compass to hell and back. 
Rescued
2K notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 7 months
Note
I ADORE your writing it is so so so amazing. Could i request poly!marauders x fem!reader who works in a store (maybe like a supermarket or something) and they keep coming because they "need" stuff but they actually just wanna see her and its all cute and flully and stuff?? If you don't wanna do it, no worries at all<3
Thanks lovely! Hope you enjoy it :)
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
You’ve barely flipped the sign in the front to open and begun restocking the tomatoes when the door opens. “Good morning,” you say automatically, a Pavlovian response to the chime of the bell. 
“G’morning, lovely,” a familiar voice replies, the curly-haired boy flashing a smile at you as he stops below your ladder. “How’s your day going?”
“Well, it’s—” you look at the clock behind the counter “—quarter past seven, so…so far so good.” 
“Happy to hear it.” His dark-haired, sharp-edged friend appears, startling you, and the curly-haired one holds up his hands, ready to steady you if you need it.
“Shit, Pads,” he says once it’s clear you’re not going to fall, “you don’t sneak up on someone on a ladder like that. You scared her.”
You give them both a tense smile. “It’s fine,” you say, mustering your best customer service voice (not an easy task with two of your best-looking customers standing so close to you). “I’m alright.” 
“Sorry, dollface,” Pads says, sending you a half-sheepish grin in return. You don’t really understand these nicknames they have for each other, but embarrassingly, they’re the only names you know them by. The same group of three boys has been coming by your store for months, almost every day, and it’s reached a point where it’d be too awkward to ask for their names. They’re by far your favorite customers, but you only know them as what they call each other. There’s Pads, Prongs, and…
“Moony, weren’t you saying we’re out of eggs?” Prongs asks.
The tall one comes into view, already holding three cartons of eggs. “Yeah, but I can’t pick. What’s better, free-range or organic?”
“Free-range,” you say, feeling your face heat when they all look up at you. “I mean, it depends on your preference, but that’s what I’d get.” 
There’s a beat of silence wherein you suspect the boys are exchanging silent communication and have to force yourself to keep your gaze on the tomatoes, and then, “Dove, I hate to trouble you, but would you mind helping us choose?” Moony’s voice is soft, unobtrusive but compelling. Of the three boys, you find him the easiest to talk to. Prongs oozes charm and Pads flirts like it’s breathing, but something about Moony’s calm demeanor is disarming. “You seem like you know a lot more than any of us.”
“I don’t know about a lot.” You shake your head dismissively, but you’re already starting down the ladder. You miss the last step, and warm hands grab your waist, lowering you cautiously to the floor. 
“Easy,” Prongs murmurs. 
Your heart’s in your throat, more from embarrassment than from the alarm at your near fall, and you understand why you’re blushing, but you don’t get why he is. 
Your “thanks” comes out as more of a breath than a word, but he gifts you one of those dazzling smiles anyway. You turn to the egg cartons like they’re your lifeline, trying to steady your breathing while you read the labels. 
“Um, yeah, so.” You clear your throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but organic just means they give the chickens food without chemicals or anything, and free-range means they get a certain amount of space to roam in. I don’t think it changes how the eggs taste or anything, it just depends on what you think is most ethical.” 
Moony nods, looking like he’s mulling this over, but you can’t stand to stay under his gaze any longer than that. 
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with!” you squeak, abandoning your ladder to go tidy behind the counter. 
You’d think after months of these guys coming in you’d be used to them, but you’re not. They wind you every time. They’re obviously close, and you like to imagine them as housemates, maybe even lovers, with the way they seem to interact with such casual intimacy. So many of your customers barely look at you as they go about their business, and you don’t blame them for that, but these boys always have something to say to you. They’ll ask how your day is going, or whether you’ve tried the coffee shop down the road, or what you think of a new jacket. The way they talk amongst each other is so easy, and they talk with you like it should be easy too, but somehow you always manage to make it difficult for them. You’re too quiet, too nervous, too awkward. And yet they keep coming back. 
You’re not allowed much reprieve before Pads is sauntering up to the counter, free-range eggs in hand. He sets them on the counter. “Thanks for the advice, sweetheart.” 
“It’s no problem,” you say, distracting yourself with the manageable, routine tasks of your job. Scan the item, open the cash register, ask “Would you like a bag for that?”
“No,” he replies just as cordially, “but thank you.” 
Before he goes, he tucks a bill into the tip jar on the edge of the counter, just like always, and just like always, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. It’s not like it’s ever a massive amount of money, but still. They’re only your age. Unless they’re all heirs to separate fortunes or something, they probably have about as much money to spare as you do. And it’s so, so unnecessary, especially considering they come here every day to buy one or two items, and then leave you a tip—for what? For ringing them up? For having limited knowledge of chicken ethics?
“You really don’t have to do that,” you blurt, shrinking in on yourself sheepishly when all three boys turn to look at you, nearly out the door. “I just mean, you guys come here all the time. You only ever get a couple of items, it’s really not necessary to leave a tip every time.” 
The three boys look at you with varying degrees of bemusement, and Moony gives you a small smile. “We don’t mind,” he replies, at the same time as Pads says, “We like coming here.” 
“I just…you shouldn’t feel obligated to leave a tip just because you need something from the corner store. I’m sure you live nearby, right? It’s not like you have a bunch of options in this area.”
The ensuing pause stretches a moment too long, and you tilt your head curiously as both Moony and Prongs begin to blush faintly. “Well,” the latter says, looking about the store with forced casualness, “actually…”
Pads isn’t so tactful. “We don’t live nearby,” he says, gray eyes frank and unflinching. 
You blink. “No?”
Moony shrugs, looking alarmingly shamefaced. “No.” 
“We used to live around here,” Prongs supplies. “We just don’t anymore. Haven’t bothered to find a new store.” 
“Oh.” You hadn’t taken them for creatures of habit, but what all do you know about them really? “Um, where do you live now?” you ask, then want to hit yourself. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t mean to intrude—”
“No, it’s okay,” Moony says, in his usual kind way. “We moved down onto twenty second street.” 
Your mouth actually drops open. A giant O, and you can hear your mom telling you you’ll catch flies. Pads snickers at your reaction. But fuck, that’s nearly across town. It has to take them at least a half hour to get to your store from there, and that’s if they have a car. “I, um.” You shake your head, collecting yourself. “Sorry, that’s just so far. I used to live around there, actually.” 
Prongs perks up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, there’s a Tesco just a couple blocks down, on twenty third? And a Sainsbury’s and—oh! There’s a great local corner store not far from there, you should definitely check it out. They make their own bread.”
“Neat,” Moony says, nodding. “Thank you.” 
You smile, happy to help even though you’ll be sad to see them go. “Of course, anytime.” 
“Yeah, thanks gorgeous.”  Pads grins at you, tucking another bill into your tip jar and ignoring your squawk of protest. “See you tomorrow.”
You blink, wondering if you’d just invented the previous conversation, but they’re all starting for the door, acting as though nothing is amiss. 
Perhaps you’re feeling extra bold today, because you halt them for a second time. “But don’t you want to go somewhere more convenient?”
Prongs turns around, walking backwards towards the door. “Really appreciate the advice,” he says, “but we like this store just fine.” Moony shoots you a bashful sort of grin, and Pads winks—actually winks—over his shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
And, well, if they want to keep crossing town to come in every morning, far be it for you to stop them. You’d hate to drive off your best customers. “Yeah,” you echo. “See you tomorrow.”
820 notes · View notes
softlyspector · 7 months
Note
Could you write a drabble about Joel brushing the reader's hair? It's the kind of domestic care I think you'd write really well 🥺
summary: Joel brushes your hair.
wc: ~500
a/n: i always try to make my readers as neutral as possible regarding appearance so everyone can feel represented in them, and i want to give a little warning that this reader, while not described, has my type of hair, which is thick but straight.
Tumblr media
"You need help with that?"
Joel hasn't moved from his place behind you, one big shoulder leaning into the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are latched onto you, the expression on his face unreadable.
He shifts a little, t-shirt pull taut against his biceps, tendon twisting in his thick forearms.
Your eyes flick up to meet his in the mirror above the sink, and you assess each other for a long moment through the glass. He'd been watching you brush your hair, gaze locked firmly on the repeated pull of the comb through the strands.
"Not really," you admit, but still turn to look at him head on. "But I'd like it if you helped anyway."
He looks embarrassed for half a second, lips parting as his brows tilt up. You smile, wriggle the brush at him, and his expression clears. "C'mere," he says with a roll of his eyes, fingers snagging the comb from your hand. "Turn around, trouble," he grumbles.
So you do and watch in the mirror as Joel's face goes closed with concentration. His fingers are surprisingly delicate as they feather through your hair, the brush following just after, tugging pleasantly at the roots of your hair. You close your eyes to the sensation of him pulling the comb through your hair, curling loose strands behind your ear, sweeping it off your shoulders, pads of his fingers brushing against your bare neck.
It feels so good. Especially when he pushes his fingers against the base of your skull and then into the tense muscle of your neck, massaging gently.
You turn in the circle of his arms and bury yourself against his chest. His heart beats against your ear, the tattoo of it steady and calming. Joel doesn't miss a beat, just draws you in closer with an arm around your waist, and continues brushing with the other.
"Feel good?" He asks when you tilt your cheek against his shoulder, closing your eyes. His nose bumps against your temple, his lips press softly to your ear.
"Mm."
He chuckles, tugs the comb through your hair again, the slide smooth and unfettered.
You press your forehead against his throat and feel him swallow before he starts to hum. He kisses your cheek and lets you tuck yourself even closer against him, thick fingers squeezing your hip, gentle hand never pausing in its caress over your hair.
"That all right?" He asks, mouth pressing dry kisses along your cheekbone, the shell of your ear.
You nod and he lies the brush down on the counter behind you before he shifts to cradle the slide of your head. You hum again.
"Good," he digs his fingers into your hair, against the base of your skull and tilts your head up.
Opening your eyes and blinking up at him feels a little like breaking a trance. You don’t want to leave this moment. His mouth twitches and he pulls your bottom lip down with the blunt edge of his thumb, eyes following the movement before he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. 
411 notes · View notes
holysainz · 9 months
Text
daddy issues - toto wolff
Tumblr media
pairing: toto wolff x horner!reader
warnings: relatively vague and mild spice
summary: maybe asking for “daddy” to pass the salt while at dinner with both your father and boyfriend wasn’t the best idea
Dinner. The word rings in your ears as you fix the final adjustments to your dress. There's a palpable sense of tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. The dinner is with none other than Christian Horner, your father, and your boyfriend, Toto Wolff. A high-stakes encounter as is only fitting for those at the helm of Formula 1.
The chauffeur pulls up at your childhood home, the butterflies residing in your stomach growing more frantic. You take a deep breath, straighten your dress and step out of the car, feeling the gravel crunch beneath your high-heeled shoes.
Your father greets you at the door, a jovial smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s cordial as he guides you inside to the dining room where Toto is already seated. You take your place beside him while your father seats himself across the table.
The first few minutes pass with superficial chatter about weather and trivial matters. It’s an unspoken agreement to not bring up work and motorsports.
As the main course is served, you reach out for the salt shaker. “Please pass the salt, Daddy,” you say, momentarily forgetting your company.
Two hands reach out simultaneously, one from your left, the other from across the table. A silent beat hangs in the air, Christian’s hand freezing midway, his eyes flickering between your face and Toto’s smug grin.
“I believe she was talking to me, Christian,” Toto says smoothly, his hand closing over yours as he passes the salt shaker. The tension amplifies, the hum of an engine before a race, the calm before the storm.
Your father’s face turns several very unflattering shades of red, his grip tightening on his wine glass. “I see,” he says in barely more than a growl.
“What exactly do you see?” Toto asks, his voice laced with underlying challenge.
“I see that you’re taking advantage of my daughter. Just like you’ve taken advantage of every opportunity in your life!”
“Opportunities are not taken, they’re earned,” Toto retorts, gaze steely. You feel your heart beat loudly in your chest.
“You don’t earn someone’s daughter, Wolff!”
The words hang in the air, a declaration of war. A war between two fathers, two titans of the track.
“And yet here we are,” Toto’s voice is cool, his hand interlacing with yours under the table.
There’s a knock at the door, breaking the tension. “Excuse me,” your father says, standing up and leaving the room.
You look at Toto, noticing how his eyes sparkle with mischief. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you whisper.
He shrugs, a small smile dancing on his lips. “I like challenges. And I believe I’ve just been presented with one.”
“I can’t believe you,” you say, shaking your head, but there’s a smile on your face. It’s a game to Toto and that’s what makes it exciting. The thrill of competition, the high of winning. It’s what drew you to him in the first place.
Your father returns, his demeanor changed. There’s a strained smile on his face, one you’ve seen before. It’s a sign of defeat. A sign of surrender.
“I think it’s time for dessert,” he says, signaling the waitstaff to clear the table.
The rest of the dinner goes smoothly. Dessert is served and eaten in relative silence, the conversation restricted to shallow topics. Toto’s hand, however, doesn’t leave yours.
As you say your goodbyes, you turn to your father. “I love him, Dad,” you say, voice steady. “I need you to accept that.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I may not like it, but I can’t control who you love. Just … promise me you’ll be careful.”
You smile at him, a small reassurance. “I will. I promise.”
And with that, you leave the house, Toto’s arm securely wrapped around your waist. The night may not have been perfect but it was a start. It was the beginning of a new race, and just like every race Toto has ever been a part of, he’s determined to win. And so are you.
The ride home is a silent one, the car gliding smoothly over the asphalt. You rest your head on Toto’s shoulder, his fingers tracing circles on the back of your hand. His heart beats steadily under your ear, a calming rhythm amidst the chaos.
Once you reach your shared home, Toto guides you inside, his hand still never leaving yours. The house is quiet, the only sound being your mutual heartbeats and the soft rustling of clothes. Toto’s eyes are intense, filled with a heat that has nothing to do with the summer night outside.
He leans in to kiss you, his lips warm and inviting. “I must say,” he murmurs between kisses, “I quite enjoyed tonight’s dinner.”
You laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Of course you did. You love drama.”
His eyes sparkle in the dim light, crinkling from a smirk that never fails to make a smile break out across your own face. “Only when it’s with you,” he replies before sweeping you off your feet.
Giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close. His laughter rings in your ears, a sweet sound that makes your heart flutter.
He takes you to the bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed. His hands are warm and confident, leaving trails of fire wherever they touch. His lips meet yours again, the kiss searing and passionate.
As he pulls away, your heart hammers in your chest, anticipation thrumming in your veins. You look at him, his eyes dark with desire, his breath mingling with yours. “Please,” you whisper, your hand reaching for him, “Daddy.”
The word seems to ignite something within him, his eyes flashing with a primal hunger. A satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he moves to kiss you again, his hands exploring your body with renewed vigor.
His reaction to your whispered plea sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes gleam with an intoxicating mix of triumph and desire. You watch him with a sense of wonderment, realizing this powerful man is entirely yours.
The taste of his lips becomes a craving, your fingers tracing a familiar path down his neck. He matches your pace, his experienced hands inciting a fire within you that only he can quench.
“Daddy,” you say again, your voice echoing in the quiet room. The word takes on a new meaning when it comes from your lips — not one of familial connection but of power, control, and raw unadulterated passion.
His hands on your body are firm yet gentle, commanding yet tender. “Are you sure?” he asks, his gaze filled with concern.
With a nod, you assure him of your trust. This man, who stands tall on the racetracks, is also the one who holds you with utmost care in the darkness of the night.
Together, you explore new heights of passion and pleasure, every sigh and gasp just adding to the bond you share. The rest of the world fades into oblivion as Toto stakes his claim. It’s an intimacy you wouldn’t trade for anything else.
When dawn breaks, he’s there with you — a steadfast presence reminding you of the promise that was made and fulfilled. And in the quiet whispers of the early morning, you realize that this is exactly where you want to be. Not because he is Toto Wolff, the team principal and CEO and billionaire businessman, but because he is simply your Daddy — your lover, your confidant, and your partner. And as the morning sun paints the sky with shades of gold, you wouldn’t want it any other way.
642 notes · View notes
merymoonbeam · 3 months
Text
Just look at the same highlighted parts...greens especially.
“When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now.”
Look really.
The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”
It really tells a story.
Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”
It does.
It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed. He asked Elain, “There is another queen?”
As if it is making us...
But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in. “The sixth queen is alive?” Azriel asked, calm and steady, the voice of the High Lord’s spymaster, who had broken enemies and charmed allies. Elain cocked her head, as if listening to some inner voice. “Yes.” Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.
SEE
Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.
And that's it, your Honor
Tumblr media
204 notes · View notes
Note
Tumblr media
Thanks for sending this lovely surprise in, Cia! 🥰 this gif tho…🥺🥺🥺 it immediately made me think of my mini-series, Girl Dad.
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
Loud Sounds
Tommy Shelby x Reader (from the mini-series Girl Dad)
Warnings: ptsd fueled episode (brought on by sound)
Tumblr media
Tommy and his daughter, Thea, are out on Arrow House’s grounds. Thea asked if her father could take her fishing for the day and Tommy, surprisingly, agreed. (Y/N) was rather pregnant with their second child, and Tommy knew she needed a rest.
With their rods in hand, Tommy still managed to get Thea’s favorite horse, Sammy, out of the stable and the two rode him to the pond that was on the property.
Things were going well. Tommy had shown Thea how to properly cast the line and the little three and a half year old was more than happy with reeling in lily pads and soggy sticks. Tommy was happy that he was able to spend some quality time with his daughter; he’d been guilty of thrusting himself fully into his business these past several weeks.
But the baby was coming soon, so Tommy decided to cut back on the hours in his office. He even found that the more time he spent with his family, the less he was trying to find ways to quiet his mind.
He was usually ok with loud sounds, bangs in particular, and horses getting startled, so having this happen truly scared him. Afterwards he reasoned that maybe it was because the two sounds happened together, but in the moment he shutdown.
There was either a car that misfired, or someone in the woods shot their weapon. The loud bang that came from it startled Sammy to the point where he was rearing back and whinnying loudly.
Hearing these sounds made Tommy hit the ground; his mind transported back to France. He slid down the slight slope of the pond, flattening his body as best he could against the mud as he covered his head with his arms; waiting for the imending gun and canon-fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for it once again.
But it didn’t come. Instead, the sweet voice of his daughter filled the silence that returned after the horse had calmed down. “What’s wrong, daddy?”
Her voice made Tommy open his eyes and look around. He was breathing heavily, adrenaline still coursing through him and he was still able to hear his heart beating in his ears, but that was the only sound. Removing only one of his arms from his head, he checked his surroundings. It quickly became apparent that he wasn’t in France. Then he saw Thea. She was looking at him with an expression that was a mix of confusion and worry.
“Daddy?” she asked again, her head tipping to the side as she made her confusion even more clear.
“Noth…nothing, sweetheart. Nothing’s wrong,” he told her, not trusting his voice enough to sound confident at first.
“Mumma’s not going to be happy that you got your shoes and pants wet,” she pointed out in a warning tone, making Tommy realized that the lower half of his legs were now submerged in the pond.
“I don’t think she will be,” Tommy agreed with his daughter, taking a few more steadying breaths. He hated that he’d reacted like that; especially in front of Thea…but it was thanks to Thea that he was able to snap out of it. She quickly made him realize that he was no longer in France.
“I can help you up, daddy,” she then said to him, extending her hand out as she crouched down next to where he was laying.
Tommy’s heart instantly swelled at her offer, wondering how he managed to be blessed with a child who had such a pure soul. “I’ll get up on my own, love. Thank you though,” he politely turned down her offer, pulling himself up, out of the water then so that he was standing again.
“All better?” Thea asked, looking up at him now.
“All better,” Tommy nodded, sending her a smile, making one form on the little girl’s face.
Tumblr media
The creaking of the door made Tommy glance up from the paper he was reading over. He decided that he’d take some time alone in his office after the incident that happened at the pond. He brought the newspaper down to his lap when he saw that (Y/N) was in the doorway. He smiled at her, silently waving her over.
(Y/N) listened, moving into the room and shutting the door behind her. She waited until she was a step or two away from him to finally speak. “Thea told me about what happened at the pond today,” she said softly, testing the waters to see if he wanted to talk about it or not. Tommy was always hit or miss when it came topics such as these. She didn’t want to push him if he didn’t feel comfortable with it.
“She told me about my pants and shoes then, eh?” he asked, chuckling slightly he rubbed the back of his head. He looked down at his lap as his smile faded, thinking back to what had happened earlier. “It was just loud sounds, love. They happened at the same time and…” he trailed off, exhaling the rest of his breath as a sigh.
(Y/N) sent him a sympathetic smile, knowing how tough it was for him to express these types of things. The fact that he even began talking about it was a rarity. “I know,” she began, catching herself before continuing, “well I don’t actually know, but…”
“I know what you mean,” he cut her off, seeing that she was getting ready to talk herself into a circle. “I’m fine now…got over it pretty quickly once I realized Thea was there. She helped me,” he told her, sending her a closed-mouth smile.
“She didn’t think much of it,” she informed him, smiling back, “just thought it was funny that you got wet.”
Tommy chuckled at her statement, waving her over to sit with him. (Y/N) obliged, happily taking a seat on his lap. “Thanks for checking on me,” he mumbled against the skin of her neck before he pressed a kiss to it.
“Of course, love,” she smiled at him before she rested her head against his shoulder.
They sat in the comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tommy spoke again: “maybe I ought to go take Thea fishing again,” he mused, his hand brushing lazy circles against her swollen abdomen, “she really seemed to like it.”
“You should,” (Y/N) answered, nodding the best she could with her head rested against his shoulder, a smile forming on her lips.
“Maybe I’ll even take this one out there too,” he continued, referring to the child that would be born any day now.
“Even better,” (Y/N)’s smile grew as she lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Tumblr media
So I got a but carried away with this one 😅 I hope you enjoyed it!
Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable
MASTERLIST
784 notes · View notes
twst-drabbles · 3 months
Text
Meleanor 1
Summary: You do not understand this egg's mother. On multiple occasions, with words or with silence, she has made her hatred towards humans clear. And yet, here she is with her egg in her arms.
(Ough, spent most of the day transferring my stuff to another writing program because my brain refuses to engage with the current one. Hopefully this one will be better for me. The interface is something I'm used to, at least. Also more time travel shenanigans because why not?)
Tumblr media
When a guest is invited–or at least, allowed over by the pixies–the cluster of bells by your lattice windows would ring cleanly through the house, then would glow depending on how many guests there were. And if there was no guest but someone was coming anyway, all bells would ring at the same time and glow a sickly green.
It was a nice, a way to distinguish guest from intruder.
Only one ball bell glowed in this instance, a calm gold, but another one was hesitating, almost flickering in it's attempt to shine.
It was weird, until you saw the vine curtain pull back to reveal that faerie noble woman Meleanor with a huge egg in tow. Her smile, while clearly crafted from years of experience, did not fool you. You can feel the way her eyes regard you as a crawling, invasive bug.
"Hmm," was all the greetings you could muster out, because you didn't expect her to come here, nor did you want her here, but the egg was a pleasant surprise. It cancels out your need to give a dismissive/rude greeting into a neutral noise.
Meleanor, however, turned her eyes back to her egg. Her smile grew smaller, but gentler, as she rubbed her thumb over the raised grooves and ridges over the shell.
"Was that all you needed? You spoiled boy of mine. But fret not, I'll give you everything that you want, even if it means robbing the night sky of its every star just to give them to you."
It's… weird, knowing that Malleus was inside that very egg that Meleanor was so tenderly caressing. A growing fetus, alive and well, beating with a very tiny heart.
…oh right, you're supposed to receive this guest on behalf of the pixies. They can't do it themselves, on the account of how dense and volatile her magic is. Such sensitivity tends to make them agitated or fearful. And you, being a dull human with no magic sense whatsoever, would have to take the reigns.
"Sit wherever you like," you gestured to the whole scope of the room.
"And who gave you permission to speak, to gaze upon me?" She didn't so much as look at you, keeping her gaze upon her child, still so filled with fondness and love.
This song and dance again… Ugh, you're going to be so exhausted by the end of the day.
"A host that cannot gaze or speak with the guest is a negligent one," Meleanor not looking at you was a sign that she's not truly angry. She's just trying to mess with you in the way all faeries love to do. "You know this."
A prank to them, a danger to you. You fall for it or falter, and she will relish in punishing you however she sees fit. You're just lucky you have a good sense of when you're in danger or not.
"Haha," Meleanor lifted her head to laugh, mildly amused, "A host now, is it? Your manners are well-trained in you, for a human. Any less and I would have had you replaced. Surely the pixies will find another creature to attach themselves to."
"That's if they don't gather up their things and leave for other places," you dragged a chair and kicked back on it, "You would lose your stable seasons if you were to 'replace' me on your own whims."
Human etiquette in you tells you to go into the kitchen and make a drink or a snack. Faerie etiquette, however, told you to wait and quietly listen. You can't assume a request of a faerie guest. You could easily be accused of arrogance.
But, instead of requesting for anything or attempting to stab you with her sharp words, Meleanor took the seat on the other side of the dining table. She leaned her egg close to her belly and simply let time pass with a steady lullaby.
And, unfortunately, this meant that you couldn't do anything as well. You're forced to sit there and wait with her while she gets lost in whatever is inside her head.
Just as you were about to zone out in your seat, Meleanor finally spoke.
"It was only for a brief moment, but I'm more than sure that my son heard your voice. It was when Malleus and I were wandering around these very woods as a means of staving off my boredom. And just as I was about to craft a most impressive tower of thorns, I heard your voice, along with those playful pixies right by the riverside. And my son heard you as well."
"Huh," you tapped at your knee, trying to recall what she's talking about. You can't. "What does that have do with you bringing your egg here?"
There was only the lightest flare of green fire over the hem of her dress, but she reigned it in. She is a guest after all. She can't very well rampage inside this house just because the pixies gave the okay for her to visit. It's why you're letting yourself be a little more lax than usual.
Meleanor gave a sigh, letting just a fraction of her rage go. "Already, before he's even born, Malleus is rebelling against me. I would be more proud if it weren't due to your influence. But, I have no choice in this instance. What my son wants, I'll give. It is my right to spoil him, especially at this stage."
"…Give him, my voice?" That's not exactly something you want to do.
"Malleus wants to hear more of your voice," she spat it out, as though the words were disgusting on her tongue, "He'll reject most of my and my husband's magic otherwise. Honestly, of all things for him to latch onto, it had to be a human's voice."
Wow, of all things…
"That's unfortunate," you sighed out.
"On my end, yes. But for you, it is a blessing that no other shall receive, so best weep for joy at such a miracle. When I take my leave, that is. I don't want to subject my child to the grating noises of a sobbing human."
Meleanor is certainly hating every moment of this, isn't she? Guess you should be thankful that, no matter where you are in time, Malleus attaches himself to you quickly. How nice.
But oh boy, you hope this doesn't have any consequences when you finally figure out how to go back to your present.
156 notes · View notes
reneeluv154 · 4 months
Text
Frostbite
Tumblr media
Hope you enjoy🤍🤍🤍
In this imagine Newt finds out you have frostbite and takes care of you.
(More on my profile if you like this.)🫶🏼🫶🏼
I was cold, so cold but I wouldn’t let the others know, we had been walking in the scorch for weeks, although I wouldn’t call it the scorch anymore. It was cold, cold enough to make your lips blue and your skin crack and bleed. Newt tried to offer me his gloves when it first started getting cold two days ago but I denied them, instead wrapping them up in my sock’s.
Now the sock’s were just to hide my gruesome frostbite rather than keep them warm. “Guys, let’s stop here, we’ve been waking for far too long.” I couldn’t agree with Minho more, the blisters on the back of my heels and my toes making it to where I could barely walk.
“Y/n are you okay?” Thomas asked wearily before watching me stumble to the ground. “Woah hey.” Thomas tried to catch me but I hit the ground with him and Newt on either side of me. I began to weep which then turned into sob’s of anger. I punched the ground, “I’m fucking done! Do you hear me!” I screamed out as loud as I could, causing a vicious pain to shoot through my head. Everyone was crouched down forming a circle around me, fear and worry plastered on their faces.
“Hey, take a breath Y/n.” Newt was calm with a comforting hand on my back, the other on the sand, trying to keep from slipping. I violently sucked in air never fully finishing a breath. I truly couldn’t breathe. I looked at him with panic in my eyes as I tried to breathe, tears still rolling down my cheeks. “Okay, everyone back up.” His voice was stern enough so they understood but calm enough to not scare me. He gently grabbed my face.
“You’re gonna be okay. Focus on my heartbeat alright?” He grabbed my hand, placing it on his chest gently, leaving me to feel the calm, steady beating of his heart. After a few minutes, my breathing slowed, and my tears were gently wiped by his simple calloused hands. “You're okay.” He whispered, bringing me into a tight hug. I believe more for him than for me. He knew I never liked hugs. Although I had always wanted one from him, I hugged him back knowing that’s what he needed at the moment. I didn’t want to let go but loosened my grip leaving him to let go.
“Thomas, help me walk her over to that building.” He nodded over to what was more like a small shack a few feet away. So with Thomas on my left and Newt on my right we carefully walked over to the shack, taking a few minutes to settle down. I sat on a small crate while the others cleared spots to sit and sleep for the night. I was staring at the ground when Newt came, sitting down beside me, offering me a cup with something in it. Not bothering to zone back in, I shook my head.
“It’ll warm you up.” He said, setting it by my foot on the ground and kneeling in front of me. “Can you take these off for me?” He asked gently, laying a hand on top of mine. I finally zoned back in still not looking directly at him but carefully taking the socks off my hands trying not to let the fabric pull on the cracked skin.
His eyes widened when he saw the purple and blue, bloody knuckles and fingertips. ‘Fry, can you make a fire real quick?” He asked, not taking his focus off of my hands. “Already on it, Newt.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone Y/n?” He asked gently, trying to warm my hands with his own as well as blowing on them.”I don’t know.” I was quiet, barely even audible. “My feet are pretty bad too.” The look he gave me was the sweetest yet saddest thing I had ever seen. “They don’t have frostbite, just lots of blisters.” He nodded. “Go ahead and take your shoes off, the cold should make them feel a little better.”
I nodded, taking my shoes off while he went and grabbed a thin blanket we had stolen from W.I.C.K.E.D. wrapping it around my shoulders. He was right, the cold felt good on my hot blistered feet. “Here, let’s go sit by the fire.” He handed me the hot cup making my hands sting but I knew that meant it was helping. I was caught slightly off guard when he picked me up and carried me to another crate, this one close by the fire, my feet still being cooled off by the patch of cement underneath me.
I decided to sit on the ground closer to the fire. Newt came and sat on the crate behind me, his legs on either side of me. “Newt?” I asked and received a small hum while he set down his cup which I learned was just hot water, and started to play with some strands of my hair. “Is it okay if I just give up?”
“Give up?” He questioned. “Yeah, If I just quit trying to make it out alive.” I was ashamed of asking such a question but I knew he wouldn’t judge me. He grabbed both my shoulders leaning in close to my ear. “Y/n you can not give up, I won’t for one second let you believe that you can give up because I would never let you do such a thing.” And for the first time in a long time, a small smile made its way onto my lips. It felt so good to smile, especially with someone like Newt.
Around an hour later he had braided my hair and wrapped up my hands now everyone was getting ready for sleep. “Where are you sleeping, love?” He hadn’t called me that since the first time I came to the glade but it made me feel special.
“Can I…sleep next to you tonight?” He nodded, “Of course, c’mon.” He laid out some clothes on the ground and used a jacket as a pillow. “Go on, I'll tuck you in.” He smiled, so I laid down letting him lay two blankets overtop of me, given that was all we could spare. He then laid down, a small bit of space between us. “Goodnight Y/n.”
“Goodnight Blondie.”
I woke up a tad bit cold and a bit scared. There was thunder and rain all around us. The small shack was the only thing keeping us safe and that wasn’t promising. I moved over to where Newt was lying and rested my head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his voice still sleepy making me blush. “Yeah, I’m a little cold but more scared than anything.” Just then lightning struck close making me jump. “Shhh it’s okay. I’m here, I’ll keep you safe I promise.” He rubbed my back and gave me a small kiss on the head now wrapping both arms tightly around me. Humming a small song, which soon put me to sleep.
188 notes · View notes
ssentimentals · 1 year
Text
dino + drunk confession
tw: chan is drunk here, so alcohol is mentioned!
'i need to find her! get me to her right now!' dino is not aware of this, but he is yelling on top of his lungs. 'where is she?'
image of you is the only thing on his mind and the need to find you and tell you all about those feelings, that were torturing him for the past months, overpowered everything else. shit, where are you?
'chan, stop!' jeonghan tries to pull him to the side but it's too late - dino already found you. jeonghan tries to reason him: 'you are so drunk right now, she won't like it, trust me.'
dino's eyes swell up and his bottom lip protrudes in the most childlike manner. he asks in a heartbreaking tone: 'she won't like me?'
jeonghan curses, shaking his head. how did he even end up with drunk dino by himself? where the hell is cheol? 'chani, of course she'll like you just not when you're drunk, okay? you can confess later, yeah?'
chan doesn't hear anything after the 'of course she'll like you' part. his hands are clammy with sweat and his heart beats a bit too fast for it to be normal, but he never felt more ready to confess to you. dino nods to his own thoughts, determined and goes straight to you, ignoring jeonghan's attempts to stop him. now or never, he thinks as he gets closer and closer. his vision is blurry but your figure is crystal clear and even when now, when his thoughts are in disarray and he hears nothing but the drum of his heartbeat in his ears, your smile still manages to stop the world around him. you laugh at something your friend said, your head falls back and his fingers itch from the need to hold you. to stand by your side and have your head lean on his shoulder. have his arm around you to keep you steady and you always fall a little, laughing too hard. dino is not sure about many things but the only certain fact is that he likes you, he wants you and he can't keep it inside him anymore. alcohol is a friend of brave ones and he strides purposefully, smiling when you notice him first. understanding that he's coming to you, you excuse yourself form a friend and meet him halfway, smiling. 'how are you?'
dino wets his lips. 'i'm good. yes, i'm quite- quite good. yes, good.'
you arch one eyebrow and laugh a little. 'i can tell that you're good. you look very drunk, my friend.'
my friend. dino frowns at this. 'we need to talk.'
noticing the change in his tone, your smile fades. 'okay? like right now? maybe we can talk when you'll sober up-'
'please!' dino interrupts, startling you. he curses, stepping forward and taking your hand in his. 'please, i- i need to say it now or i might never say it.'
he can tell that you're spooked but you nod, letting him guide you to a less packed place. there's a pleasant hum in his body from the way your hand fits in his and it only strengthens his resolve to confess. it's hot, almost unbearably so and dino leads you both outside. he is sweating but he immediately notices how you shiver and quickly gives you his bomber, ignoring your protests. 'but you will get-'
'i like you,' he blurts out, gripping your shoulders to stop you from taking his bomber off. 'please keep it, you're cold.'
you blink at him, freezing. 'um. you like me as in...?'
chan chuckles softly. 'i like you as in i desperately want to take you out for a dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up kind of way but i also like you as in i want to grip your hair while i watch you writhing underneath me kind of way.'
'oh.'
chan almost laughs out loud at this. 'yeah, oh.' he lets go of your shoulders and takes a deep breath. cold wind sobers him a little and he starts shivering but nothing can calm his racing heartbeat. he feels so light and - 'that felt so good to say, damn.'
he watches millions of emotions play on your face and in the only one stays - the one that colors your cheeks in a pretty rose color, the one that makes you bite your lower lip shyly. his head is spinning by the time you look up at him with those beautiful eyes - he's a goner for the stars in them.
'did you drink to confess?' you ask and he nods immediately. 'you're honest right now, right?' another nod. this time you squint at him suspiciously. 'are you going to remember this tomorrow?'
'i think i might remember this for the rest of my life,' chan lets out, making both of you smile. the more he stands out in the cold, the more his vision sharpens and he gets more attuned to his surroundings. 'i actually think i'm sobering up.'
you laugh at this, shaking your head. he loves your laugh so much. without wasting a beat, chan tells you this out loud. your eyes widen and you smile softly at him. 'thanks, chan.' you reach out and squeeze his hand, which gives him hope for a good ending. 'you are coming tomorrow to the lectures, right?' chan blinks at the sudden change. he nods, frowning. 'you think you can repeat all what you said tomorrow?' she asks and smiles at the eager nod. 'then i'll see you tomorrow, chan. let's get inside?'
chan shakes his head. 'i'll stay here for a bit.'
you nod, taking off his bomber and giving it back to him. your hands brush and chan's heart stops when you look at him with intent. 'i'll be waiting for you tomorrow,' you say and it feels very much like 'i like you too.' chan nods, not looking away from you. 'bye, chan.'
'till tomorrow,' he whispers, watching you go.
he pulls on his bomber and smiles at the way your scent lingered on it even for a short time. and something tells him that very soon your scent will be left on all of his clothes.
a/n: bursting in your feed with a cuuuutie chan! check out my other works here - nini
my tag list: @smalliechelle @jaetaimjadore @yeow6n @a-wandering-stay @pearlygraysky (let me know if you want to be added!)
499 notes · View notes
fictionalmenxyn · 1 year
Text
Nightmares
Tumblr media
Summary: Y/n and Ghost are in bed, during the middle of the night Ghost seems to be having a nightmare. This is a fluff/comfort imagine
Tw: a discomforted Ghost and mentions of a bad vivid nightmare if you think of it that way
Tumblr media
You had been sleeping soundly beside Ghost when you suddenly felt movement in the bed. You opened your eyes and saw that Ghost was tossing and turning, his expression twisted in distress. It was clear that he was having a nightmare. Without hesitation, you gently shook him awake. As soon as he opened his eyes, they were full of fear and confusion until he saw you beside him. He calmed down a little and sat up in bed with his back against the headboard. You sat down beside him, taking his hand in yours. "Ghost, are you okay?" you asked, running your thumb over the back of his hand. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, as if he was trying to reassure himself that you were there. Then, he shook his head. You knew that Ghost wasn't one to show weakness or vulnerability, so you were a bit surprised when he spoke up. "I... I had a nightmare," he said, his voice low and serious. "What was it about?" you asked softly. Ghost hesitated for a moment before he started to describe his dream. It was a jumbled mess of past missions and personal tragedies mixed together in a surreal nightmare. He spoke quickly, his words tumbling over each other, as if he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to articulate what had happened in his dream. You listened intently, not interrupting him until he finished. When he was done, you squeezed his hand, feeling a surge of affection for him. "I'm so sorry, Ghost," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "That sounds awful." Ghost leaned his head against your shoulder, closing his eyes. "It was," he said quietly. You gently rubbed his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin t-shirt. You could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, and you knew that the nightmare had shaken him to his core. For a few minutes, you just sat together in silence, comforting each other. Then, Ghost lifted his head and looked at you again. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse. "For being here." You smiled at him, feeling a surge of affection for him. "Of course, Ghost," you said. "I'll always be here for you." And with that, you lay down beside him again, wrapping your arms around him. Ghost closed his eyes and relaxed a little, the tension in his body easing. You felt his breathing slow and deepen until it was the steady rhythm of deep sleep. As you lay there beside him, watching him sleep, you knew that you'd never forget this moment. You and Ghost had been through so much together, and you knew that you would always be there to comfort each other in moments of need. You fell asleep soon afterwards, wrapped up in Ghost's arms, feeling safe and loved.
294 notes · View notes
suuuupernovaaa · 1 year
Text
paskalin
Tumblr media
paskalin [pa.ska.ˈlin] n. sweet berry (term of endearment)
Anonymous Request: Can I request a Lo’ak imagine where the female reader is asleep on his chest but wakes up from a nightmare and eventually gets up to go sit outside with her feet in the water and he realizes that she is not next to him anymore and goes to find her and comfort her? He eventually gets her to come back inside and helps her fall asleep by letting her lie completely on top of him and knows that his voice brings her comfort so he keeps talking whilst rubbing his hand down her back?
512 words
From a disorienting dream, I wake with a gasp. For a moment, I'm in a fog where my surroundings seem foreign to me and I can't quite remember who I am or where I am.
My heart rate is so high, and I try to shake the dream from my mind - more of a nightmare, really - but I need to sit up to clear my head. Gently, I pull myself off of Lo'ak, who sleeps like the dead and wouldn't notice if our mauri pod was flooded until he was carried away by the sea.
Gently, I tip toe away, just a few steps outside, and sit with my toes dangling in the cool sea water.
The moons are full and bright, and it's quiet tonight, which helps to calm me down. It's strange how a nightmare can overtake your reality for a little while, make things seem unsafe and unreal, even though it's all in your head.
My breathing begins to slow, as does my heart rate, and I tell myself that the dream is not reality, over and over.
"Lo'ak is okay," I whisper to myself. "Lo'ak is asleep. Lo'ak is okay."
"Y/N?"
I turn to see the man himself, sleepy, rubbing his eyes, exiting your mauri and joining me by the water. "What are you doing up?" My lip trembles, so I take another deep breath. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him. "Did you have a nightmare?"
I just nod, leaning on him. "Tell me," he says.
"We were swimming, and the Sky People... they came for my soul sister, and, and you," I stutter again, and take a deep breath. "It's just a bad dream."
Lo'ak squeezes my shoulder. "I'm okay, Y/N. I'm right here. Feel." He reaches over, taking my hand and placing it on his chest, so I can feel his steady, strong heart beat. I close my eyes, listening to the breaths he takes in and out, feeling his mighty heartbeat.
He's okay. It was just a dream.
"Come, you need to sleep." He stands up, pulling me with him. He lays down, and pulls me down on top of him, instead of next to him. With the size difference, it's all too easy for me to curl up on Lo'ak, using him as bed and pillow. He holds me in his arms, and with my head on his chest, I can listen to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.
"You know, it must mean you really like me, if the worst thing your brain can come up with to scare you at night, is me dying," Lo'ak whispers in a teasing tone that makes me smile - but he's not wrong. It is truly the worst thing I could imagine.
"It would be like dying myself," I reply in a whisper, and Lo'ak kisses the top of my head.
"I'm not going anywhere without you, Paskalin," he says, and I know he means it.
Slowly, wrapped completely in my mate, I drift off to a comfortable, dreamless sleep.
414 notes · View notes
wrenhyperfixates · 10 months
Text
Synopsis/tw: Dottore taking care of you because that’s what I need right now :’) not proofread. reader’s a bit depressed/has been crying a lot. gn!reader. non-sexual nudity. it’s sfw but below a cut bc it’s a bit long I’m slowly turning into a dottore fanfic blog ig
People say that to feel your heart break, you have to have a heart. Well, Dottore was pretty sure he didn’t have one, yet he felt a distinct ache in his chest when he saw your eyes, puffy and red. And those small gasps and winces as you slow and hide your sobs.
Dottore closed the door slowly behind him so as not to disturb you where you sat on the couch. Heaving a hefty sigh, he removed his mask and sat next to you. You’d screwed your eyes shut to help stop the flow of tears. When it became clear you weren’t going to be opening them any time soon, he sighed again.
“Love, look at me.”
Though his words were a short, simple command, the gentleness hidden in the tone of his voice—gentleness you knew him well enough to hear—turned the phrase into a plea.
For anyone else, his face would be set into a grim look of annoyance. New as he was to the soft feelings he held for you, he tried to keep such an expression, but his eyebrows still drew into a tight line of concern.
Eyes not quite yet dry, you do as he asks, gaze darting around a bit, but ultimately looking at the doctor.
“You’ve some nerve, trying to hide something from me,” he spoke again. Dottore cupped your cheek and you immediately leaned into the warmth of his gloved palm. “Just give me a name, and I’ll have whoever hurt you chained to a lab table by sunrise.”
A gasp flies past your lips, followed by a small chuckle. “Thanks, ‘ttore. Though no one did this, I’m just…”
He allows you the time to pick your words, waiting patiently for you to continue, and stroking your cheek with his thumb in the meanwhile.
“…overwhelmed,” you finish after a few moments. “Overwhelmed with- Archons, overwhelmed just by life itself.”
A sob breaks your voice as you finish your sentence, more salty trails staining your cheeks as tears once again spill from your eyes. Before you can blink them away, Dottore has pressed you to his chest, tucking your head under his chin.
“Now, now,” he tuts. “You underestimate me.”
“What? You gonna tie my feelings up in your lab?” you tease, though your tone lacks some of the mirth you tried to force into it. Still, it earns a laugh from Dottore.
“Hm, perhaps not. But it is nothing I can’t handle. I am used to working with machinery on the brink of disrepair and volatile chemicals… Perhaps it is not the most apt analogy for humans and their feelings, but I do know how to handle things with care.”
Humming in thought, you snuggle closer to his chest to muffle the small sobs that you haven’t yet gotten under control. In the silence you realized the second harbinger, a force of nature, had a very steady heartbeat and his stoic presence was somehow calming.
“Ok.”
“Good. Now love, I’ll need you to do as I say, but it is of the utmost importance that you make it known if I do anything that causes you to be uncomfortable.”
After waiting for you to nod in affirmation, he bids you to stand and follow him. Though, you don’t hesitate, you weren’t expecting your destination to be the bathroom.
Dottore ran the water so the tub would fill as he rummaged through some draws, pulling out a variety of jars and bottles. Some seemed to be what he was looking for and others he cast aside. From the looks of it, maybe you couldn’t be sure you weren’t about to become one of his experiments.
“Love,” he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll need you to strip, if you’re feeling up to it. There’s a robe on the hook by the door if you want it.”
Heart-skipping a beat you do as you say, fastening the plush robe tightly around you. It smells strongly of your lover, and you wonder if the musk is from his soap or if it’s his natural scent.
Dottore has the bath ready quickly, water warm and dotted with bubbles and rose petals. With your permission, he removes the robe from your body and helps you into the water. The rolled up sleeves of his button down get wet as he helps you get settled, but if he notices he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Everything ok so far.”
“Yes, ‘torre.” Your eyes shine with gratitude as you look at him. They still shine with tears too, but for the moment, your mind is elsewhere. “Thank you. Sorry to make you take time out of your day for this.”
Laughing he shakes his head. “My schedule always includes time for you. Besides, I take pride in what is mine. And love, lest you forget, you are mine.”
To anyone else, those words from the mad doctor would be enough to set their heart beating at a rapid pace and a shoot a tingle straight down their spine. To you, those words were coated in honey, whispered against your skin, and punctuated with a kiss to each of your fingertips.
Relishing in his touch, you nod and do your best to relax in the water. Dottore continues to whisper sweet reassurances into the steamy air of the bathroom, observing each microscopic change to your expression so he could adjust his words to be exactly what you need. His love was genuine, even if the way he expressed it was carefully calculated.
When he feels the water begin to dip in temperature, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles to capture your attention, then looks you right in the eye as he speaks.
“I intend to wash you, if you are alright with that.”
Turning over the prospect over in your head, you reach a conclusion faster than you expected, but the answer rolls off your tongue naturally. “Yes.”
He does not hesitate before setting to work. His hands, devoid of gloves unlike earlier, make direct contact with your skin. They’re calloused, and for saying he knew how to handle things with care, they treated you a bit rougher than expected. But, perhaps it was intentional as there was a sort of calming effect to strong, decisive actions. Something that kept you grounded when you felt you were drifting away.
Dottore took his time lathering the soap on your body before rinsing it away, following up by doing the same to your hair, massaging your scalp and skin as best as he could as went. Despite not being particularly practiced with giving massages, in tandem with the sweet nothings he began to softly whisper again, it did more than enough to calm your tensed body.
Once done with the washing and with your approval once again, Dottore begins to pat you dry. Instead of trekking to your room to fetch your own things, he pulls out his own clothes for you to wear, leaving you to change while he acquires some pastries you had stored in the fridge.
“Feeling better, love?”
Dipping the bed as he takes a seat next to you, he rests the tray on his lap. You reclaim your place snuggled into his side as you grab a pastry and pop it into your mouth. Fiddling with the buttons of his shirt which you now wear, you hum your affirmation.
The corners of his mouth turn down. “Promise?”
You eat a couple more pastries before answering. “Yes. I am feeling better. Having you here, the way you’ve taken care of me helped. Honest!… I’m just maybe not all better yet.”
“Mmm, well, that can’t be helped. Healing is a slow process for any wound, and I would not expect the ebb and flow of you anxiety to suddenly bow to my whim.”
“Yeah. Any chance you can keep helping though?”
He polishes off a couple pastries of his own before offering you the last one and setting the tray on the bedside table. Pulling you into his lap, he tugs the blanket so it rests securely round you both.
“Well, of course. I’m not one to abandon an experiment after a single trial.”
Resting your head back so it laid in the crook of his neck, you continue to let the his presence wrap around you and melt away the buildup of your stress. You press a kiss to his collarbone, and he responds with a peck on the top of your head.
“What about after two trials? Or three? Will you be tired of me then?”
“Honestly, my love, you ought to prepare yourself because the trials shall be endless. Or, let me be more blunt: I shall never tire of you. After all, you are mine. But more than that, I am yours.”
229 notes · View notes