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kaciebello · 3 months

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Don’t shoot the messenger

Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff!reader (use of she/her, no use of y/n)

Masterlist

Delivery Express ✿

Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts and makes her first delivery.

warnings: mention of alcohol and cigarettes, nothing else really

Authors note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. I wanna spread this into a one-shot series. Proofread by me and me only :(

Next part: Delivery fees

Word count: 1352

Notes to deliver - 1

The Slytherin bedroom is filled with the usual chatter. Two boys arguing about quidditch tactics over a cigarette, some have given up and just stared at a ceiling while nursing a glass of fire whiskey. You can hear someone's father being mentioned in almost every other sentence. Nothing magical was happening if you omit this being a school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Suddenly, the door busts as if being kicked open. Revealing, to the boys, an unknown girl wearing a green uniform they are all familiar with, her cloak being absend. Her hair is neatly in a braid tied with a bow. All chatter stops and their attention is on her. She, however, paid no mind to anyone in the room and kept looking into her notepad as if nothing happened. Taking a few steps into the room and closing the door was only an interaction with her surroundings.

Nobody says a word for what feels like an hour. “ Who are you?” a voice recognizable as Draco Malfoy spoke. Snaping her head from her notebook she finally scans the room. As if searching for something. An offended scoff is heard from the boy as his question is left without an answer.

“ Sunshine? What are you doing here?” Lorenzo asks as he sits up. Her eyes snap to him the second she hears his voice. A sweet smile spreads on her face and her eyes create moon crescents. “ There you are! I have a note for you.” She says and takes a few steps to his sitting figure.

His friends, still confused by what is this mystery girl doing in their bedroom, could do nothing but stare as she moved across the room with ease. But she seems to pay no attention to anybody but her friend. Passing the neatly folded note to Lorenzo, she sits down and crosses something in her notebook humming happily before turning back to him with the same sweet smile. The boy in question studies the note and opens it to read it. His eyes widen and his ears go red. He turns to the girl in shock.

“ YOU GAVE ME A LOVE NOTE???” He yells and the second those words leave his mouth all his friends surround the pair like hungry hyenas. Her smile drops and her eyes widen to the point some would think is impossible. “ Eh? Is that what that is??” She goes to snatch the note from him, which proves to be an easy task as Lorenzo is frozen in the spot. Before she could read the note herself, however, it was too snatched from her hand by Theodore Nott and passed around his friend group.

With a frown on her face, she turns to her friend, “ I, didn't give you anything, someone gave you a love note, I just delivered it.” She said making sure to emphasize mentioning her person in the sentence. “ So this is not from you? Because that sure sounds like an excuse, lame one at that,” says Mattheo Riddle as he waves the note in front of her face. She swats his hand away like it's a fly and he passes the note to Blasie Zabini who has yet to read it.

“No, I had no idea it was a love note,” she argues back and places her hand on Lorenzo's shoulder. “ I love you, but not like that.”

“ Are you sure? because-”

“yes.”

“no, like, if you do-”

“no”

“ Maybe we can work-”

“ I would rather jump from the astronomy tower.”

“Ouch,” he said and she just patted him on the back with fake sympathy. The note was passed back to him and he finally had the chance to look at it again. All of his friends return to studying the girl sitting on the bed. A minute of silence is broken when Blasie speaks up.

“ Are you, not the Hufflepuff girl sitting next to Enzo in Charms?” Looking up and smiling.

“Why, yes I am.” she proudly announces to the room. The shock and mumbles did not phase her as her friend got her attention.

“ So who gave you this note?” Lorenzo asks seemingly coming out of his trance from just receiving a love confession. “ I don't know, some girl gave it to me and asked me to give it to you.” She shrugs and targets the candy bag in Draco's arms, taking a handful without the boy noticing and popping a few chocolate pieces in her mouth. “ and you just did it?”

“For 5 galleons.” He looks at her in disbelief.

“ You sold our friendship for galleons?” he asks not believing he's worth a pocket change.

“ She promised another 5 if I got her an answer.” “oh my god.” He throws his head back and stares at the ceiling for a second as the girl next gives him a confused look.

“ what? I didn't know it was a love note. Besides-”

“ How did you get in here?” Draco cutes her as he notices her hand sneaking into his bag of candy this time, snatching it away. The two friends turn to the group of boys standing around them. “ I do you one better, whose uniform is that?” Mattheo asks pointing out the obvious Slytherin uniform on the Hufflepuff girl. Her eyes narrowed, not enjoying being interrogated. As she was about to answer Lorenzo was just a second faster.

“ Her own you moron, it's a color-changing charm. Good job on that by the way.” He says, getting up from the bed and breaking the circle his friends formed around them. The girl gets up and follows him to his desk. “ That does not answer how she got here.” chimes in Theodor. Leaning on the desk she turns to them and crosses her arms. “I'm a Hufflepuff, we have our ways. It is not that hard to find all the secret passages.” She says nonchalantly. Next to her, Lorenzo is hunched down and scribbling something on a piece of paper. Before any more questions can be said he shoots up with a little ‘aha’ leaving him. Taking the girl’s hand and turning it, he slaps a little note folded in half in her palm. Then he fishes up what seems to be 10 galleons from his pocket and adds that as well.

“Now sunshine, please don't ever bring me love notes ever again,” he said and started to usher the girl out of the bedroom. She gets up from her spot and walks to the door not that much bothered by her friend kicking her out. “ What if it normal note? Can I bring that?” “ no.” He answers as soon as he hears the first question. ‘You're no fun ‘ can be heard faintly as she says it under her nose. Opening the door she previously so elegantly kicked open, she turns to his friends one last time. “None of you want to send a note? It will cost you only 5 galleons.”

All of them shake their head not wanting to use the girls' service. She gives them a few more seconds before she takes our step outside of the door. “ Wait, sunshine,” Lorenzo stops her with a sheepish smile on his face. Wodlesly she raises an eyebrow at him. “ next time don't forget to change the color of your bow.” he says and motions to the boy keeping her braid together. She looks down and sees it proudly shining the yellow color of her house. She just chuckles and without other words, she steps out of the room and closes the door behind her.

The room falls silent for a minute before erupting into a bickering over what happened.

Notes to deliver - 0

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tired-biscuit · 10 months

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farmer boy!kiri driving me insane as per usua

he’s everyone in town’s favorite guy!! big and dependable and so funny!! local housewives make it a point to wear their prettiest dresses to go and visit his stand at the local market.. but he doesn’t fall for it..

doesn’t fall for anyone until you move into town.. you work at the local bakery and sometimes visit him when the bakery needs an expedited egg delivery..

he’s so smitten with you, you’re pretty, smart and he can’t take his eyes off of you.. makes it a point to lift the heaviest things when you’re around in an effort to impress you..

little does he know how smitten you are with him.. how you purposely promote custards and egg tarts just so that your bakery needs more eggs and milk.. and you have an excuse to go see him again <3

all these meet-cutes until he finally works up the courage to ask you on a picnic.. where he lets you feel his muscles like you’ve been dying to from the start.. where he lets you take off his overalls and lifts up your skirt..

where the sun warms his and yours’ skin and where only the flowers know what happened next :3

(he ate you out and bred u <3)

18+ / fem!reader

you’ve been dying to touch and feel his biceps for the longest time now because you’ve seen the way they tighten and turn exceptionally prominent whenever he picks up and tosses those big sacks of flour that you keep ordering for your bakery from him and him only.

he always greets you in the friendliest way possible whenever he swings by to deliver you the goods; a polite nod of his head and a warm “hey there, darlin’” never fail to make you weak in the knees. the combination of it, that’s sometimes even accompanied by a rather playful wink, turns your brain to goddamn mush. goodness, you’re so into him that it’s getting kind of absurd!

but to be fair, how couldn’t you be? he’s pure eye candy, with his sharp facial features, fiery eyes and messy hair of the exact same shade that he keeps tied back with the help of a single elastic, and that exposes the sides of his neck, as well as the nape, in the most delicious of ways.

his skin is tan and sun-kissed from many days spent working outside under the blazing sun, and his back is broad; he carries any kind of weight with seemingly no trouble at all. the faded, well worn jeans that he usually throws on whenever he drives to town make his ass and thighs look absolutely divine as they hang off his hips.

the sight of them makes you feel like a sleaze from the way they coax you to ogle at him so openly again and again. stealing glances as he moves around your little storage room where you keep all your ingredients, all you can see is his tight physique, his big hands, how appealingly thick his fingers are; coated with a thin layer of white powder coming from the flour.

he’s a working man, oftentimes dirty with sweat and grime whenever you just happen to be passing by his land and spot him coming back from the fields, but surprisingly enough, he keeps his nails clean whenever he comes to see you.

and it doesn’t stop just at the nails. even his face lacks the sheen of sweat his line of work usually tends to induce, because unbeknownst to you, he doesn’t leave the house before he scrubs it clean. his signature white t-shirts �� each one usually adorned with a logo of his favourite sports team — are crisp and constantly smell of pleasant laundry detergent; like they’ve been freshly washed every single time. and if his hair just happens to be a mess that day — stubborn strands, bedhead and whatnot — he makes sure to hide it underneath his trusty baseball cap just so you don’t have to see it.

altogether, it shows that he’s trying to impress you. that he’s putting in the effort.

and that effort is almost enough to make an already smitten girl like yourself admit defeat and fold right then and there; in the storage room of your little bakery. to make you rest the flat of your palms against one of the shelves, and bend right over at the middle.

until the fat of your ass is peeking from underneath your pretty sundress, no panties in sight, and he’s got drool nearly dripping from his mouth at the discovery. until his fat cock is nice and snug, sheathed inside your soft cunt, and his heavy balls are tightening from the way you’re invitingly wiggling your hips against him and hurrying to make him all sticky and wet with your arousal so that he can slide in even further, even deeper.

just by looking at him, you know he’d fuck you nice and slow, and so deep that it’d make hearts form in your eyes right before they’d cross. quiet grunts would fill your ear, his breathing ragged as it tickles the side of your neck and cheek. his calloused hands would be warm against your hips; dusting flour over your dress and skin, and providing a steady weight that you could lean on and rest your tired body against any time you’d wish.

there’d be constant pressure in your lower belly — overhelming but the good kind nevertheless. the slapping of skin against skin, the stretch, the sweat coating both of your brows. the pounding, the pleasure, the passion that’d be so intense that you’d end up feeling it in the goddamn marrow of your bones even.

and then, the climax. the white noise and bliss as every nerve end buzzes with electricity that’s powerful but mellow at the same time. the feeling of warm cum eventually leaking from your poor little pussy, down your thighs, dripping onto the floor; causing a mess you both chuckle at whilst cleaning afterwards.

his forehead pressing against your spine as he hunches his back because of the prominent height difference and waits for his cock to slowly soften whilst it’s still inside of you, still stretching your velvety walls. your clothes sticking to your salt-riddled bodies as you attempt to catch your breaths and not say anything too brash or embarrassing to each other.

you want him to rail you and fuck your brains out in this tiny storage room so bad. he’s just such a… man. bulky and strong, simple and endlessly kind. his heart is as big as his tits are, and much like the rest of him, you can’t help but leer at them, too as the mixture of the summer heat and your baked delights turns too much for him to bare in that exact moment and he swiftly loses the crisp white t-shirt just so that he can survive it.

watching him as he throws it over his shoulder and keeps it there, you start to think that you could take such good care of him. that he could take such good care of you. you can already see it; a cozy house, a couple of kids. hard work, animals and endless love. fresh lemonade and cookies. creaky wooden furniture and movie nights on the world’s comfiest couch. domestic bliss.

he’s the type to kiss you goodbye and hello again whenever he walks through the front door.

your daydreams end abruptly when he tosses the last sack of flour onto the neat little pile and turns around to look at you with a face that’s all of a sudden vividly red like a tomato; from his neck to his forehead, from one ear to the other.

you’re still blinking, sweetly batting your eyelashes up at him by the time he finally gathers enough courage to ask you a question you’d thought you’d never get the chance to hear from him.

he wants to take you out on a date, huh?

#he’s so sweet oml #i’m meltingggg!!!#kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima smut #biscuit drabbles

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

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I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion x f! reader #astarion x f!tav #pregnancy #astarion acunin

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katy-l-wood · 4 months

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Camp Daze Kickstarter (finally) launching this Friday afternoon!

youtube

Blurb: With summer winding down, the counselors at Camp Aspen Heart are counting the days until they go home to their own beds after weeks of songs and campouts and budding friendships. But a missing food delivery after the start of one of the last sessions sets off alarms in the isolated camp. With no easy way to contact the outside world Conifer, a survivalist who grew up going to the camp every summer before becoming a counselor herself, heads out to try and find out what is going on, only to be confronted with the unthinkable: a nuclear war has started, and they’ve been forgotten. Conifer was raised to survive the end of the world. Any end of the world. Except this one, alone in the woods with over 150 kids to save and only a handful of other young counselors to help her.

Camp Daze is an adult novel that will also appeal to fans of YA stories. It is the first book in a planned three book series. Great for fans of All That's Left in the World by Erik J. Brown and Prepped by Bethany Mangle.

This Kickstarter will fund the initial print run of the paperback and a special edition hardback, as well as covering the costs of editing and some marketing! The special edition will have a unique case design and interior illustrated elements. Plus, as we go, we'll unlock even more upgrades for it!

Read the first two chapters on my website for free!

Back the project now!

#Kickstarter #Signal Boost #Self Publishing #Kickstarter Publishing #Apocalypse Book #Post Apocalyptic #Writing #Writblr #Book rec #My Writing #Camp Daze #Youtube

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frogchiro · 8 months

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im a firm believer that slasher!graves is simply astonished when his cute lil darlin' flirted back for once, maybe it was as an awkward joke or maybe she got a random confident boost, but when it happened he was completely frozen in place, jaw on the floor and mind racing with all the things he would do to her.

to be fair her 'flirting' was probably being nice and starting a conversation for once, but his blood raced to his cock too quickly for his brain to process that that was technically, not proof that she wants to carry his children.

im going insane i need to be contained.

Yeah you're actually right😭

Like I said before, Slasher!Graves due to his massive ego has a tendency to come onto you in a very bold and overbearing way, thinks you squirming and not meeting his eye is adorable, you're like a little shy mouse and you're so flustered becuase you have a crush on him!! But in reality you're fighting for your life because while yes, Mr Graves is very handsome and you'd lie if you said you weren't even a little bit attracted to him, he's still incredibly insistent in his advances and it's all a little...too much.

So just imagine that he was out doing some errands, picking up a delivery for his ranch from the local market and you just so happen to be there too, browsing through the stalls and buying some fresh veggies, oh sweet girl if you were to marry him you'd never again spend a single penny on these things, he has it all already~

But then you notice his insistent stare and smile and wave to him, walking over and greeting Phil sweetly with that shy look in your eyes. Some would say that you're just polite, greeting the older man and asking him how he is and what's he's up to but to Philip?? Yea you're flirting with him. You came up to him and talked because you wanted to?? With that soft look in your eyes?? Yep you're definitely a tease and you're just playing hard to get, his little vixen, and speaking of hard I bet he got a little light headed by the speed his blood left him to go right down to his cock😭

Graves even had to move his hips around a little so the growing bulge isn't as obvious and winced at the tight, uncomfortable feeling in his full balls that he just wants to empty inside you :((

You just know that the moment he's back at his house he will go absolutely feral on the fleshlight he keeps in his bedside drawer, growling and almost yelling (because yes, I imagine his to be very loud in bed) when he cums deep inside the silicone pussy wishing that his swollen red tip was right up against your cervix, breeding you full with his baby :((

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #yes he's THAT guy #slasher!graves #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves

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beetlejuicyy · 6 months

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Payback

Part 1 • Part 2

Bebe Gang AU

Pairing: Gang member! Bada x reader

Synopsys: Bada takes you with her to a party. Her mistakes cost your safety as you're kidnapped by Wolf'Lo.

Warnings: none

Notes: im back!!! ive been wondering how to make this story more interesting so i hope you enjoy being kidnapped by chocol? hope you enjoy as always

Masterlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“That’s actually not as bad as I expected.” Bada sighed in relief when you came out of the room. She was lying down on your bed, scrolling through her phone while she waited for you to decide on what to wear.

“Do you mean I don’t know how to dress?” You asked. Still, you posed in front of her earning a wide and loving smile.

“No, I mean I thought you’d choose something more…” Bada waved her hand through the air as if searching for the word. “Racy? Is that a word?”

“So you thought I’d be a slut the very first time you actually include me in your mafia activities?” Bada rolled her eyes at you, as you checked your outfit in the mirror again.

“Don’t romanticize that.” She let the phone drop on the mattress as she walked behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and looking at both of your reflections in the mirror. “I just know that I have a gorgeous girlfriend.”

“I can’t kick your ass in laser tag in a cocktail dress after all.” You said.

Your girlfriend had been very spontaneous when she asked if you wanted to go with her to a chill get together at one of the guys’ house that night. They were going to get a special delivery of laser tag guns and it was gonna be fun, she promised. You were almost euphoric when you heard her. Somehow, it felt like Bada was being more serious about your relationship, since she was willing to bring you in the middle of her friends.

You were anxious though. In the back of your mind you couldn’t completely ignore the fact that some of those people were dangerous. Of course, not to you in particular since you were Bada’s plus one. The people she introduced you to were a few sweet girls that, between dancing classes, were buying and selling guns and weapons on the black market. Your girlfriend was the one administrating this whole deal, and it took you a bit of time to wrap your head around the idea that the very dance academy they were working at was basically a money laundering scheme.

When you finally arrived to the place, you were left speechless. Bada grinned as she was undoing her seat belt.

“Am I in a rich people drama?” You mumbled to yourself and she giggled because that had been her reaction too when she came for the first time. Now it was quite obvious that you were at the head of the gang’s house. Because it was more of a mansion. It made sense now, how they could play laser tag at home with that much space. You got out, anxious knowing you were about to meet so many new people. But you were happy because Bada would be next to you at all times.

The moment you got in you noticed how something in her attitude changed. Of course, you thought, around all these people she was something other than the sweet and playful girlfriend. From the moment you saw her outfit, black ripped jeans, a tight crop top, a black and white racer jacket and a black cap, you thought she looked cool. There were times when she would effortlessly look like a model no matter what she put on and your heart fluttered knowing you could call this gorgeous girl yours. But now, in a room full of guys with sleeve tattoos and girls who looked like they could beat those very guys up, Bada had a much more imposing posture and an ever cooler air to her. She greeted a lot of people, high-fived some, said a few jokes here and there as you were making your way to the kitchen. She introduced you to everyone you met on your way but you would forget the names as soon as another person would pop out of nowhere. Some people would play cards at a table, others would do shots or play on the gaming consoles. In a room to the right you saw a ping pong table. You tried your best not to look at them in an inappropriate way, knowing you’ve never been to this kind of big parties with this kind of people before. But, as Bada was pulling you by the hand through the people, you knew you looked like a confused deer in the headlights and it was obvious by the way some people would look at you from head to toe that they knew you were an outsider.

The kitchen was thankfully not as crowded, except for some people who would just come and go occasionally. The chairs around the kitchen table were missing so you looked around awkwardly, not knowing how you should sit or act. Bada crouched down, opening a cabinet and reaching out to grab a can of beer for each of you. It looked like it was a secret place, because she waited for two guys to lesbe the kitchen disappointed they didn’t find any more alcohol in the fridge. You hopped on the table, finding it a decent spot to sit, as she leaned against the counter in front of you. You gulped down the beer, realizing how refreshing it finally felt to lessen the tension in your body.

“Someone was thirsty.” Bada said, looking at you and it seemed that only now when you were sitting on that table she noticed how good those low waist cargo pants were hugging your hips. You noticed her eyes quietly taking their time, resting on your bare shoulders as you were wearing that off the shoulder T-shirt she loved on you.

“It’s your fault for looking like that.” You said and she grinned, coming closer to you. She leaned over you, her hands placed on the table at your sides supporting her weight.

“We just got here.” She said and the visor of her cap pushed against your forehead playfully.

“Are we interrupting something?” Lusher asked, obviously knowing the answer already. Bada pulled back and fixed the cap on her head with both hands and you looked the other way in embarrassment. The girls giggled and Bada leaned against the counter just like before, folding her arms in an awkward gesture. She was always close to her girls, you knew that much, but she would always get shy when they would see her crossing the intimacy boundaries with you.

As Lusher, Tatter and Sowoen walked into the kitchen you noticed they were wearing the same jacket as your girlfriend. They really looked like a gang from the movies now. They chatted with you for a while, making sure you felt comfortable and spilling some tea on the people around. You also found out from them that Minah, CheChe and Kyma were on their way to bring the main attraction of the night, the laser tag guns. It was on Bada’s orders, Tatter said, because she trusted them enough to let them deliver some real guns to another gang in the area on their own. They must have already finished the exchange and should have been on their way with the toy guns for the party. You looked at your girlfriend who was rather silent, enjoying to simply watch over her girls chatting. Bada was a very good leader for them, you thought.

Dragged by Sowoen, all of you went to play some games. She was very excited because, apparently, it was her first time at this kind of party too, although she was more laidback and carefree than you since she was familiar with most of the people. It was impressive to see how every time you got close to some group people would greet Bada first and immediately offer to make room for you or simply give up the game for your sake. It happened with Xbox, twice with ping pong and some guys rushed to bring more chairs for you around the table where they were playing cards, even if you were just watching. Lusher winked at you playfully almost like saying I-told-you-so without words. You’ll see how popular Bada unnie is. She had told you in the kitchen. More than popular, you were amazed by how respected she was. She would only decline the favors once, in a very cheerful tone, mostly because that was the polite way. However, they would insist and she would always find a place for you first, then sit right next to you. Now she was playing cards with a few guys and you were quietly sitting next to her.

Outside, you could see a group of people smoking something thicker than the usual cigarettes and you guessed it was cigars. Tatter had told you there was no reason to feel out of place here, after all a lot of people were coming with their plus one. Looking around, you noticed a few couples getting a bit too touchy. You saw two girls hurrying up the stairs holding hands to what you assumed would be a bedroom.

“I’ll go take some air.” You leaned to whisper in her Bada’s ear and she only nodded, looking very concentrated on the cards in her hands.

“I’ll finish here and I’ll come too.” She replied.

The night air was cold but refreshing after spending so much time around so many people. It was almost midnight when you checked the time on your phone and decided to stay on the terrace where those guys had smoked before leaving. You could see Bada through the window, although she didn’t know you were watching her. You saw Lusher walk towards one of the guys and grab him by the hand, cards falling from his sleeve. Your girlfriend slammed her cards against the table laughing. She took her cap off her head and brushed her fingers through her hair, a habit of hers that you found very sexy. As grateful as you were that she brought you there with her, you really wanted to go home and get laid. Or maybe there was an empty room for the two of you right there.

At some point you heard the engine of a car, then you saw Bada stand up and joyfully greet someone you couldn’t see. Now she wasn’t in your view anymore but you guessed that Minah, CheChe and Kyma were finally joining the party with the long awaited laser tag guns. The music was still loud and you had no idea what was happening but you knew your girlfriend would come for you when she was done, as she promised. Besides, it was such a pretty night and you rarely got to be outside this late.

“The party’s inside.” You heard an unfamiliar voice and realized you’ve been too lost looking at the stars. At an arm’s length away from you was a woman with orange toned hair and brown eyes piercing through yours.

“I was… taking some fresh air.” You said, startled. It was almost terrifying to you that she could get so close without you noticing.

“You’re not from here, are you now?” She asked, a grin curling at the side of her lips. She took one hand out of her pants’ pocket in a greeting gesture, closing in the distance between the two of you. “I’m Chocol.” Her voice was low and relaxed and for a moment you thought that you shouldn’t be talking to people without Bada around.

“I’m y/n.” Pressured by the social expectations or simply by Chocol’s persuasive look you took her hand and answered appropriately.

“You really are not from here.” She repeated, making your heart beat faster. You felt threatened for some reason, although her voice was gentle and she never showed any intention of harming you. From her reaction, you could tell that your choice to take her hand and introduce yourself was the wrong one.

“I haven’t seen you around either.” You said, although it didn’t mean much. She let go of your hand.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight.” She shrugged off your comment and you couldn’t argue. “Let me guess. You’re… someone’s plus one?” Chocol asked. A part of you wanted to run back inside. But she gave you no reason to – besides her pressuring stare as if trying to read your mind.

“Yeah I’m here with Bada.” It seemed like the safest thing to do in that moment. You had just witnessed how respected your girlfriend was amongst all those people. Dropping her name would be your easy way to get rid of this uncomfortable situation.

“Really?” She grinned. She was quite good looking, you thought. Your instincts were telling you something was off but if you thought about it she had done nothing wrong. Maybe you were exaggerating. “You should stick around her then.”

You only nodded in agreement, hoping the conversation would end here. Maybe you would both go inside. The music volume inside the house lowered all of a sudden. You found it odd.

“Who knows what alpha males started fighting now.” Chocol yawned, noticing you looked worried. “I wouldn’t go inside.” She said, as if she could read your mind. She seemed to know a lot of things, after all it was obvious she was part of this world.

But she also told you to stick around your girlfriend. You pondered on those words for a moment. It had been a while since you were out and Bada said she would be coming for you but she hadn’t. Now it looked like something was going on inside and maybe that was keeping her busy. You decided to look for her.

Just when you were taking your first step towards the door, you felt Chocol’s hand grab you by the wrist. The sound of a familiar hip hop song was gradually getting closer and louder as a car passed the front gates. Before you could react, Chocol had both your hands behind your back and a hand over your mouth so you couldn’t let out a sound.

“Sorry babe. You’re just collateral damage.” She said and, as your back pressed against her body, you felt the rough edges of the gun she had under her jacked.

***

Bada was growing bored with the game. Maybe it was more rewarding to have you by her side as she flexed her popularity and skills because ever since you went outside she wasn’t really into it anymore. Lusher noticed it and did her a favor by pointing out the obviously cheating player and everyone dropped their cards. A few words about the situation were exchanged and then she could finally join you. By the time she was ready to excuse herself, three girls came in, followed by two guys carrying a large and seemingly heavy container. People got excited, the main attraction of the night was finally here.

On her way to you, Bada decided to welcome her girls and congratulate them for their first independent deal. She was always with them, guiding and protecting especially the younger ones, but it was time to put her trust in them, although some unfriendly voices had told her it was too early. Minah was experienced enough, she argued, to take CheChe and Kyma and seal a simple deal. After all, the biggest advantage Bada’s girls had was that, looking at them, no one would think they were smuggling guns. On many occasions their innocent faces and charms fooled the police and mafia alike.

“Look who’s here!” Bada’s excited voice covered the noise as she opened her arms to welcome the three girls in a warm hug. She was proud of them and they started talking over each other about who they met, how everything went and how scary Minah looked when she was serious. They laughed together as the guys put the container on the floor with a loud thud and opened it. “What’s wrong?” Bada asked as the murmur of people grew quiet and the mood seemed to change around them.

“These are not laser tag guns.” One of the guys said. Stepping closer towards the box to see with her own eyes, she felt her heart stop for a moment, realizing what was going on.

“Girls?” She asked hesitantly but they were already next to her, wide eyes looking down at the container full of pistols. “What are these?” She asked, in a scolding tone. However, it was obvious that more than mad she was growing worried.

“It’s… the delivery for Wolf’Lo.” Minah said in a low voice.

“And what did you deliver?”

“If the real guns are here…” CheChe muttered but the pressure of everyone watching, witnessing a mistake like this was too pressuring to let her finish the sentence.

“Didn’t you open the container in front of them? Who picked them up?” Bada inquired. She had thought that it was an easy task, they never had issues with the girls from Wolf’Lo and besides she was friends with Yeni Cho, who assured her she would pick up the delivery. Everything was supposed to go smoothly, it should have been an opportunity for her youngest members to gain confidence and experience on their own.

“Yeni Cho said it’s not necessary… That she trusts us.” Minah answered.

“You’re supposed to do it no matter what.” Bada said between clenched teeth. “You just sold toy guns to one of the biggest and oldest mafia network in the country.” She knew she had to do some damage control. Give some calls, assure people it was a genuine mistake. Although, in this world, people rarely cared. She only prayed that Yeni had the sense to check the guns before taking them to her team. The music coming from the speakers was long paused. As she was pondering in silence on what was the best approach in the situation, the growing sound of a hip hop track signaled they had company.

“I’ll handle it.” Bada said when a few friends of hers showed their support, ready to fight if necessary. Things had to be clarified as calmly as possible.

She stormed outside the house with more people following behind, the sound of charging guns clicking alongside their steps. Bada was grateful that you were not there at the moment, you were safer this way.

A black SUV pulled up right in front of the house. It was indeed the source of the loud classic hip hop song that stopped once the engine of the car stopped as well. Bada’s fists clenched as three people got out of the car and walked towards them in an almost insultingly relaxed manner.

“Bada Lee, now you have the decency to show up.” The woman walking at the front said in a cocky tone. She had short bleached blonde hair and an annoyed grin. Behind her, a girl with brown hair and gentle features was standing awkwardly, a totally opposite attitude.

“You know it was a genuine mistake, Halo.” Bada said with a calm and conciliatory tone. Halo only clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Yeni, tell her.” She pleaded. The brown haired girl kept looking down at the ground, gulping in guilt.

“Where there’s respect there’s no room for mistakes.” The third person said, a tall lanky even more threatening woman than Halo although she was half a step behind her.

“Tell her, Yeni.” Halo said mockingly. “Isn’t Baby Sleek right? Where’s the respect?”

They were just three women in front of tens of people with Bada in the front but, besides Yeni, the other two didn’t seem scared or intimidated. On the contrary, the power dynamic was the opposite of their numbers, judging by their attitude.

“We have your guns. We can give them to you right away. This misunderstanding can be settled.” Bada tried not to let herself be intimidated. Underneath the visor of her cap her eyes were piercing directly into Halo’s eyes. The more you showed them your fears, the easier they won. That was the first lesson she learned on the streets.

“And how do you settle the moral damage this misunderstanding has brought on us?” Baby Sleek asked back. Halo only nodded in approval.

“You must know that it is a very humiliating gesture. You sent your kids to meet our people and didn’t even bother showing up. Are we that irrelevant to you, Bada?” Halo continued.

“No.” Bada had no choice but to play by their rules. “What’s your price?”

“Three times as many guns. And our money back.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Yeni muttered behind Halo. She had been silent all that time. A part of the fault was hers, she knew, but Halo would never admit that in front of outsiders.

“It is a bit unreasonable for our part.” Bada replied.

“We take what’s ours, even if you give it or not. Although, for the sake of our future business partnerships, it would be nice of you to comply.” Halo was close to mocking her now. Bada felt like her blood was about to explode in her veins. How was she supposed to find that many guns and cover their expenses?

“Halo, please.” She asked again, with a stern tone. “You know it can’t be done.”

“Not even for the sake of your pretty girl?” Another voice ringed in everyone’s ears. Turning to the side, Bada’s eyes widened and all her tough act vanished. There you were, with a gun to your head, a woman taller than you keeping your hands behind your back roughly. You looked terrified, you could hardly breathe, and when your eyes finally met hers tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Let her go!” Bada yelled, taking a few steps in Chocol’s direction. In a instant, the gun at your head clicked, ready to shoot at the next pull. All the people behind Bada took out their guns and pointed them towards Chocol, and you, or towards the other three women. Halo only laughed, her posture still very much relaxed even with all those guns pointed at her. “Drop the guns, idiots!” Bada’s voice was loud and angry and desperate as she gestured to her friends without taking her eyes off you.

“Good choice.” Chocol said. She pushed you forward, forcing you to walk towards Halo and the others, passing unnecessarily close to Bada in your way. “Don’t worry.” The red haired woman said winking at your girlfriend. “I know how to treat pretty girls.”

It was impossible for her to stand still. Her fists ached for violence and she wouldn’t stop until you were safe back in her arms. But she didn’t have that luxury now. Tatter and Lusher had to forcefully hold her back for your sake, as Chocol pushed you to walk towards the car. Halo walked up to Bada until they were inches apart. Although she was significantly taller than Halo, the shorter woman was dominating as Bada kept on fighting to free herself from her friends’ grip.

“You have until dawn.” Halo said. “Three times the amount of guns and the money back in exchange for your little bitch. Let’s see how much you care about her.”

With that she turned around and walked back to the car, getting in the driver seat. Bada watched as the car got smaller and smaller as it drove off, and she fell to the ground when Lusher and Tatter finally let her go. She was crying and hitting her bare fists on the asphalt, as the mass of people behind her had already started making calls at midnight trying to find the amount of guns necessary until dawn.

#bada lee #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader

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sweetfushi · 1 month

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→ RECEIPT. having survived a near-death experience, you and nanami decide to fulfil his wish. settling down in malaysia has brought peace of mind to the both of you. → WORD COUNT. 0.8K. → TAGS. kento nanami x female!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, mentions of scars and burns, established relationship, nostalgia, a lot of just nanami reflecting on his life and being so utterly in love with you.

Nanami looked at peace. It wasn’t an unfamiliar expression he had: eased shoulders; a smooth brow, and a soft breathing. You had witnessed him like this before, the day of your wedding, the week of your honeymoon - practically every other day by your side. But as the sun shined on his toned figure, his expansive back, you found yourself holding your breath at his vulnerability. Moments like these were ones you valued most because you were the sole person who had access to them.

“You’re adorable,” Nanami mumbles, eyes fluttering to remain open as he observes you. Your wandering eyes lock with his at the sound of his low voice and you smile. “Good morning, husband,” you let out a breathy laugh, pushing his hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. He inhales deeply and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into bed with him.

You yelp at the sudden manoeuvre, giggling when Nanami buries his face in your neck and exhales. You can feel the small smile forming on his lips as you wrap your arms around him and pull him into you, throwing a leg over his waist. “Good morning, wife,” he murmurs, smiling harder at your content sigh and the sensation of your nails running across his scalp.

“I ordered us a breakfast buffet so you better not let the food get cold,” you warn, trailing your hands down to run your nails up and down his back. “The coffee smells really good. I wanna head down to the market to see what blends there are,” you continue. “Sounds like something you’d be interested in, no?”

Nanami only nods, evidently still tired. You pout and smack his shoulder, causing him to chuckle under his breath. “You’re so violent,” he groans, gazing up at you. “We can head out after food, and food will be had after I get up.”

You pause momentarily. “Which will happen when, exactly?”

He kisses your neck and shuffles out of bed, grabbing his glasses. He gets to his feet. “You’re awfully demanding, my love.” He shakes his head in mock frustration, throwing a towel over his shoulder and heading into the bathroom.

After a prompt fifteen minutes, he emerges looking and smelling fresh, dressed in a white t-shirt and dark brown slacks. He fiddles with his watch as he strolls downstairs and finds you laying the food out on the kitchen island. Your robe falls down your shoulder as you do, igniting a warmth in his stomach.

He feels an inexplicable sense of serenity with you as a core part of his life. He’d only ever imagined retiring with a wall-length bookshelf alongside a view of the beach - only the sound of the waves and the turning of pages to accompany him. In the two years that he had moved to Kuantan with you following your marriage, he remained in contact with his former colleagues and friends (a word he never would have anticipated to call them).

Even now, he finds himself admiring you, as though a distant figure watching the target of his affection with no true intention, simply to settle in your calming aura.

“You weren’t kidding about the coffee. It smells divine,” he says, approaching you and helping you pull things out of the delivery bags. His eyes light up slightly at the sight of the latest newspaper resting beside his designated plate of food, glancing at you with an appreciative sparkle in his eye.

“Oh, but you have to try the French toast. My mouth was watering just touching the lid of the box.” You open said box up to reveal a still hot platter of French toast smothered in butter, syrup and fruit.

Nanami watches as your eyes roll back in sheer delight, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you sit down opposite him and serve yourself a portion of the toast. He watches, his heart skipping a beat, as the sun beams behind you, lighting the right side of your face as you enjoy your meal. You paid no mind to his entranced state, too engrossed in a rant of your plans and consuming half the food you ordered.

He, however, found his grip on the newspaper slipping as he watched the way you pinned your hair up, cracked a window open, and took a sip of water before continuing your ranting. It was hard to believe that you could continue to call him the source of your happiness, the receiver of your love and attention, when he had suffered the way he did. The left side of his body functions as a stark reminder of his abandoned life, his skin scorched a deep red, his nerves almost inactive in the area. Yet you continue to caress him, press kisses to his scars, and rid him of the guilt entrenched in him. He didn’t know if there was truly a sufficient way to reciprocate this tenderness.

Above all, he continues to cherish the blessing you embody - a blessing of comfort, repose and beauty. A blessing he hopes to protect and appreciate so long as your names are destined for each other.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

#jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk fic #jjk drabble #jjk fluff #jjk angst #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami angst #kento nanami jjk #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami angst

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thebearer · 10 months

Note

no but i love your writing! ever since i watched s1 and 2 last weekend because of a youtube ad, i peaked in the carmy tag and was a surprised to see the amount of stories carmy had! would love a scenario where he’s married to a sassy, take no shit type of reader sim to natalie. his wife legit could work with him for all i care. but for whatever reason he does something w/o checking in— he prolly just forgot. she finds out and confronts him hella pissed (could be at family or during restaurant prep idc) and she says “oh, if carmen said it was cool.” not even carmy the full government name bro 😭. p much how natalie articulated it 🤣. can’t remember the ep but in early season 1 when marcus blew the fuse you can also include slick commentary from richie (and fak) if you’d like! tysm in advance 🥰. also if you don’t me me asking, do you have name/alias on this blog? what we can call you? enjoy your week

- 🥣

yes yes yes ahhhhh! he definitely needs someone who keeps him in line but walks that fine line where he can also keep them in line (bc dom!carmy is living in my heart rent free forever lol). also you can call me e if you'd like :) thank you for your sweet words! i hope you have a good week, and hope you enjoy this!

"What's this?" You ask Sydney, looking at the new box being unloaded from the truck- big and bulky in a crate, far too large to be a produce shipment.

"Uh, I think it's the new glassware for the bar." Sydney looked at her clipboard, back at you carefully.

"Glassware? What new glassware. We haven't picked that out yet." You frowned, looking at the crate carefully.

"Oh, well, it was in Carmen's notes for the day, so... I think that's the only shipment we have. Unless the hostess stand came early, which would be amazing, but you-" Sydney stopped her ramblings, seeing your soured expression. "You know what? Never mind, uh, ignore me. I'm just...Carmen's with Sugar and Richie in the back if you want to ask him."

"Thanks, Syd." You muttered, ripping the bell open with a shrill before bounding towards the back. You could hear them before you saw them, a familiar chorus of chatter and rising voices.

"Hey, so what's the delivery out front?" You ask, not bothering to wait for them to acknowledge you. If you did, you'd never talk, they all talked over each other.

"The new glasses for the bars." Sugar turned, smiling softly at you. "How are you doing?"

"Good." You muttered, eyes cutting to Carmen. "We haven't ordered new glasses yet."

"Uh, well, I thought you liked the ones from last week, angel." Carmen's eyes were bulged, clearly flustered.

"I said I liked them for basics, but I needed you to confirm a drink menu." You glared at him, arms crossing over his chest.

"You can't put the drinks in that?" Carmen asked, hand flying out towards the hall.

"Not if you want the specialty, no." You huffed. "Carmen, I told you to wait just a few days and we could get them at the wholesale market. The textured ones for the signature at least."

"Uh-oh," Richie muttered, snickering to Fak.

"Can you not use the glasses I got?" Carmen sighed.

"I can, but did you get enough? And did we decide if the signature is going in a whiskey glass or a cylinder one? Did you order double of those?" You lifted a brow, taking a step towards him. Richie and Nat watched, heads turning from you and Carmen like a tennis match.

Carmen paused, running a hand down his face. "N-No, but-"

"-So what are you going to do when we open and you run out of drinks, huh? When everyone orders the signature and it comes in different glasses? You think those travel groupie influencers won't notice? Won't post about it and make it a big fucking deal?" You countered.

"Then we'll figure it out!" Carmen huffed. "Look I gave the order to Richie, and-"

"-Hey, no fuckin' way cousin. You gave me your order." Richie held his hand up. "Sweetheart, Carmy said it was good so I just placed the order."

"Well, if Carmen said it was good, then it must be, right? He's the fucking boss." You snarl, glaring at Carmen furiously. "Seems like you've got it under control, Carm, so I'll leave it to you." You turn on your heel, furiously stomping away.

Richie and Fak wait until they hear the slam of the office door, to release their cackles. "Oooh! Cousin, you are in the fuckin' dog house now." Richie laughed, Fak's chorus of barks emphasizing his statement.

"Shut up, ok? Just shut the fuck up." Carmen growled, running a hand through his hair.

"Carmy, why wouldn't you ask her before you ordered? She's your mixologist." Nat sighed, shoulders heavy with disappointment.

"Also your girlfriend." Sydney added, poking her head in. "I told you to wait. Just saying."

"Thank you, alright, thank you all for your fuckin' helpful words." Carmen snapped. "Just... Nat, make sure they get all that shit set up right, ok? Make sure the dishwasher fucking works before we're open, please."

The office door was shut, and Carmen hesitated, reaching for the knob anxiously. He wasn't sure if he should knock- I mean, fuck, this is his office but... you were already so mad at him. Knuckles rapping on the door, he didn't wait for the invite in- knowing he'd never get one.

Carmen found you, sniffling in a furious pout in the corner, body angled away from the door. "Baby-" Carmen started with a sigh, shoulders falling gently at your upset state.

"-Don't." You snap, wiping your eyes. "Don't even start with me, Carmen." The way you say his full name sounds so bitter, too formal and full of malice to be from you.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought we agreed on it, and-and Richie was pressuring me and... And you're right. I shouldn't have made that decision without you, and I'm sorry." Carmen said slowly, waiting for your gaze to meet his, angry, wet, waterline.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." You agreed bitterly, wiping your eyes. "I get this is your restaurant, Carmen, but don't ask for my help if you're just gonna do what you want anyways. That's-That's not nice."

"I know." Carmen nodded slowly, approaching you with the caution he would a wild animal. "I want your help. I do, and-and I like your idea that the house drink goes in the special glass. Makes it stand out."

You lifted your gaze up to his. "Yeah?" You asked, he nodded, sitting next to you. "Did you blow your budget?"

"No," Carmen shook his head, not a total lie. Fak had been able pull some strings with the new stoves, turns out he did have a guy. It left a little over five thousand left over.

"We could go to that place, if you want to. Go look and see if they have the glasses. Get a rough estimate of about how many we'd need." Carmen offered, his hand cupping your thigh gently, thumb rubbing over your leg in soothing circles.

"As long as Sydney or Nat does the numbers and not you." You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes at him.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I'll get Sugar to run 'em, alright? Then we can go. Call it an early night."

You beamed at the idea, letting him slide in next to you, melting into your side. "That sounds good." You hummed, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

"I-I'm real sorry I didn't as you ." Carmen muttered. "That was shitty."

"Yeah." You sighed in agreement. "I just... I want to be included in things." You asked, looking up at him sweetly. "Not everything, but-but at least the things that apply to my area."

"I know." Carmen nodded, his hand catching your cheek softly. "I'll let you handle it next time, alright? I trust your opinion."

"You don't have to do that-"

"-No, you're right, I don't. But-But I want to." Carmen nodded. "I know you're lookin' out for the best in this place just like I am."

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lillaluna · 2 months

Text

tea

Pairing: Wriothesley x f!Reader

Tags: deviations from canon, dramma, hurt\comfort

Standing at a table with tea accessories, you brewed Wriothesley's favorite tea with precise and precise movements. Always at the right temperature, always with the right amount of different herbs, always with two tablespoons of sugar, which you bought at the market from the same seller, always on the second day of delivery.

You yourself asked Wriothesley to teach you how to make tea because you wanted to be able to do something special for your lover. A sad smile touched your lips when you remembered how scrupulously but patiently the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide taught you how to brew his favorite tea properly.

"Just start all over again," the blue-eyed man said with a deep sigh and pressed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes in what seemed to him hopelessness. "I just don't understand," you whined, throwing your head back to the ceiling and twisting your lips in a sad grimace. You were on the verge of crying, because it seems like you've been hanging around this tea table for ages, and this damn tea didn't turn out the way it should and Wriothesley detected it by the smell, standing behind your back! Hearing the sound that the duke's heavy boots made when walking behind you, after a moment, you felt two large palms on your shoulders, but despite this, this gesture was full of tenderness. Wriothesley gently rubbed your shoulders. "You will succeed," the man said, "I believe in you, you are a capable student, I know that," the Duke continued with a smirk in his voice. You smiled shyly, and tilted your head, offering your cheek for affection. Wriothesley immediately responded to this gesture by touching your soft cheek with two fingers. "Let me be a diligent student in something else," you murmured, rubbing your face against the tips of His Lordship's rough fingers. There was a soft barking laugh behind you. "Sly fox, this won't do," the guy abruptly took his hands off your shoulders, "pour it all out, let's start over". You moaned, but instead of pity, the Duke of Meropide slapped your ass with his big and strong palm as if encouraging you.

Emerging from your memories, you found that all this time you were standing with your eyes closed, clinging with all your might to His image, trying to keep in mind as many details as possible. Of course you remembered what kind of tea He liked. And this brewing of the drink became a tradition for you, with furtive kisses. You measured the portions, steeped them. Sounds, smells and ordinary movements became part of this ritual, which created an atmosphere of trust and intimacy. Every spoonful of tea was a reminder of Him, of His presence, of the love you shared.

"I learned," you said faintly and these words disappeared into the room, "I learned everything," you continued even more quietly, but the answer was only the silence of the walls of Meropide.

Tears were already coming to your eyes, but to cope with them, you sharply inhaled and took a cup of hot drink from the table, you went to your workplace.

His dark coat, with black fur, hung on the back of His chair. You sat in it as you placed the cup of tea on the table with shaky hands. As always, next to His favorite photo, although it was difficult to call it that. Wriothesley just cut out a picture from the newspaper, in which Charlotte captured you and the Duke at one of the Fontaine fairs. In the picture, you were laughing fervently, Wriothesley was hugging you around the waist, and you were gently holding your hat so that it would not fall off your head. You couldn't remember what amused you so much, it seemed like it was a million years ago, somewhere in a previous life.

The aroma of the tea mixture gradually filled the room, while you relaxed more and more. You knew that eventually the next tea would get cold, and you would pour it out so that you could brew a new portion with meticulous precision, as Wriothesley taught. After all, this ritual has become your way of experiencing grief and realisation.

You were a little startled when there was a knock on the door.

"May I come to you, Your Grace?" the guard asked, peering cautiously into your office.

You sat up straight in His chair, and lifted your chin proudly.

"Come in," you commanded in an icy tone, stealing a glance at the cup of tea.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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kaciebello · 3 months

Text

Left on delivered

Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff! reader (use of she/her, no use of y/n)

Masterlist

Delivery Express ✿

Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts. One delivery does not go as planned.

Warnings: mention cigarettes, alcohol, jumping off of the astronomy tower.

Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. Proofread by me and me only :(

Previously: Delivery fees

Next part: Wrong address

Words: 1242 ish

Notes to deliver: 137

Astronomy Tower was a popular place to meet up even after curfew. Many see it as a romantic spot and meet up there to stargaze with their partner on a Friday night. Tonight however the sky was covered in clouds and there were no stars in sight. That's why a group of familiar boys hung out there. With this weather, nobody is surprised to see them smoking there. Nobody would also question the bubbling cauldron in the corner. Well, nobody should.

Light steps could be heard on the metal staircase, only catching the attention of two boys of the group. From the stairs, a familiar girl appears not noticing the boys yet as she plays with the note in her hand. At this time of day, she no longer wore her school-issued uniform. Her all-black outfit is broken up by the yellow ribbon in her hair. A look of confusion appears on her face as she notices the boys hanging out.

“ Group date?” She teases and walks to them, her arms falling alongside her body. A mocking ‘ haha’ is heard from Mattheo from the other side. The girl cannot tell if it's the mist or just an excessive amount of cigarette smoke that makes the air so stuffy. She makes her way over to the railing and leans her back on it, facing the group.

“ As if, I would have taken myself on something way more romantic. Trying to make moonshine is not my idea of a date, sunshine.” Announces Draco, who is in charge of stirring said moonshine at the moment. Chuckles from his friends can be heard.

��Please, all you could manage is a box of candy and half-dead flowers.” Argues Blaise not even looking up from the oranges he's been cutting and dropping them in the cauldron.

“ Excuse me?” Draco whips his head to him.

“You are excused.” Blaise simply says. A string of words leaves Draco's mouth about how his friend is in the wrong and he should see what amazing dates he can take him on. The girl decides to tune those two out as their conversation seems way too personal to listen in. Her attention turns to two smoking boys standing next to her.

“ Why, wanna join us?” Asks her Matteo, cocking his eyebrow. Shaking her head in disagreement, deciding she’s very much against that idea.

“ Why not? Who can say they have 5 boyfriends.” Argues Theo, cigarette loosely hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“I hardly want to date a single individual, let alone all of you. It might be better for me to date a dementor.” She says. A fake offended gasp can be heard from the two. At the same time, Lorenzo approaches the three. He stands next to his friend and crosses his arms.

“None of us, hmm?” He says in a teasing tone. the girl just rolls her eyes and pushes herself off the railing. Turning to face the outside part. A laugh can be heard from them before Lorenzo speaks up again.

“You want me so bad.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The voices in my head are telling me.” He just shrugs and moves on to check on the moonshine. ‘ Unbelibelve ‘ leaves the girl quietly. Interested in the moonshine she follows him and sits down next to Draco.

“ What are you even doing here?” he asks giving up on the stirring and just charming the spatula. She raises the note in her hand to view. Before gloomily setting it on her lap. A noise of understanding leaves him before turning to Lorenzo for a conversation. The two other boys join the group and also it down.

“Is that one for us?” Theodor points out the note. She just shook her head but went to check her watch. Seeing the time she frowns and turns her gaze to the stairs, as if waiting for something. Before turning back to the group with a sigh.

“Oh god, are you here waiting for someone??” A shocked tone leaves Lorenzo as a horrified expression forms on his face. His friends are quick to follow with the same. Lastly, the girl forms a shocked face as well.

“What?? NO!” She yelps in a hurry and waves her hands in front of her. “ Why would you think that???”

“You're all gloomy! and no one comes here other than to meet up with their date! OH MY GOD, YOU GOT STOOD UP!” His hands fly to cover his mouth. The girl sits there in disbelief, her chin almost on the floor from Lorenzo's ‘amazing’ detective skills. A hand gently closes her mouth. She watches them all panic, unaware of what to do in a situation like this. Few not-so-comforting words are thrown in her direction.

“I'm not the one who's getting stood up! Technically.” She says making all of them come to a stop.

“What?” She lifted the note that was sitting on her lap. All eyes are on it.

“ The person who gave me this note is getting stood up.” Was all it took for cheers and sighs of reveal to be heard among the group. The note is snitched from her hand by Blaise as he opens it to read it. She chases it but unsuccessfully. After a few moments a confused look forms on his face.

“ This is a breakup note.” He just says a passes the note to Lorenzo next to him. The girls just nod.

“I was supposed to give it to the person, but he never showed up.” She explains. “ So I guess the feelings are mutual.” Silence falls upon them as the note makes her way to the girl. She sets it down in one of the many nooks on the wall.

“This is why you're so gloomy? Because someone else broke up? Girl, you had me worried.” Says Lorenzo and crawls to the girl. Inevitably, traps her in a makeshift hug as he lays on top of her. ‘ Mate, you heavy.’ leaves her but is muffled. The group returns to their usual chatter and ignores the two. After some time the girl manages to push her friend off her and to the side, where he now fake sobbed from a broken heart. Sitting up, she gets passed a cup of presumably finished moonshine.

She gives that one to her friend and takes the next one, giving it a proper smell. The boys around her, seemingly not worried about the safety of the cauldron made moonshine all chug it down in one motion. She takes a sip and immediately retracts from the cup. Her face twists in disgust. Setting the cup down, determined to never touch it again, she watches as her friends celebrate the bach. Conjuring up some snacks and filling their cups with another round of the disgusting liquid. Making a mental note, not to ever deliver the Slytherin moonshine as it could be a safety hazard.

The night went on as no other student dared to show up at the astronomy tower after hearing the group from the bottom of the stairs. Any deliveries forgot in a second. None of them seem to notice the wind picking up, the note breakup note now gone. Later that night, when everything calms down. A soft chatter of the group can be heard. The girl gets a tap on her shoulder. Turning to her friend who motions for her to lean in.

“Ya know,” whispers Lorenzo, “If you made that all up, I understand. And, I heard I can be a great rebound…” The girl gets up from her spot, makes her way to the railing, and starts climbing over it. The only thing that stops her from jumping is male hands that pull her back to the group and laughter from the other boys.

Notes to deliver: 136

Tag list: @daisiesformylove, @klimovatereza-blog

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forteafy · 1 year

Text

Always | CL16

Summary: Neither you or Charles wanted to break up, not truly. Life hasn't been the same since, no matter how much work or fun you both tried. Will Charles drop everything on the one day you need him? Part of the 'Vices and Virtues' collection.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, stress, Charles Leclerc is written by women

Exhausted did not begin to describe the feeling seeping into your bones.

Silently, you fumble for the key in your back pocket; you’d strategically placed it there before leaving the restaurant, knowing by the time you’d be back, you’d be in no mood to root around your bag for it. The key rattles for a moment, the ornate door opening into your apartment, dipped in the orange glow of a Monaco sunset.

You’d been in this new place for a little under seven months; at first you couldn’t bring yourself to even sleep in your new bed, knowing all too well that his body wouldn’t be beside you. No warm arms to circle you when tumbling in from an event, no hot breath to tickle the back of your neck when you awoke each morning. It had taken a lot of willpower (that, and your best friend buying you bedsheets so comfortable, you had to use them.)

It had taken that time, but your life was finally beginning to feel like yours again. You decorated your apartment with plants and photographs of friends. The days were spent inviting over your loved ones to try food for the menu you’d thrown yourself into developing. Evenings were spent pairing wines to desserts and watching the sunset dip over the city you never wanted to leave. On the rare weekend off, when the city was placed into darkness, clubs and bar evenings beckoned your friendship group.

Not you, not anymore.

The vision of one evening was still painted in your mind. Five days. Five days after the breakup. The idea of going out had repulsed you, wanting nothing more than to curl up on your parent’s couch and wallow in self-pity around the belongings you had taken there and then. Unfortunately, she had other ideas, demanding you get dressed up and come out for an evening of drinks, to kiss a stranger or to at least take so many tequila shots you’d wake up with one in the morning.

The epitome of ‘wet blanket,’ thoroughly described you that evening. No conversation had drawn you in, simply starting down into your untouched drink, waiting for one of your friends to be so wasted, you could offer to drive them home and escape this evening, no questions asked. When that had happened, a friend’s arm slung around your shoulder as you tried to lead her away from the pulsing music and fumbling hands on the dancefloor. You were almost at the exit, when your peripheral vision caught sight of a crisp shirt on a man, identical to the one you had bought your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend, less than two weeks ago.

Ironic, because it was your ex-boyfriend sitting there. No, lounging back in a seat, a girl with the exact same hair colour as yours under his arm, her lipstick clearly smudged, the tint on his lips an identical colour. You didn’t think he would be sober enough to clock you, instead diverting straight for the exit, resting your friend in the back of your car as she sung to every��song on the radio which seemed to remind you of him.

You’d sworn off all partying after that evening, instead throwing yourself into work. Being the head chef at Monaco’s prime bay restaurant played handsomely, but their work demanded the highest calabar. If you weren’t at work, you’d be at home, cooking, researching; Sunday afternoon trips into the market in search of new flavours and seasonings seemed to be the closest you got to relaxation.

After the day you had, your bed was practically singing to you. There had been no end of deliveries, one group particularly enraged that their food had taken longer than expected to arrive. With no manager in that afternoon, you had to step out of your domain, apologising for your appearance and giving the table an apology dish, cooked by yourself. It must have paid off, seeing their smiling faces and ‘thank you’s,’ as you’d left the place yourself, finishing at a reasonable time for once in your life.

The extra time you were not usually blessed with had given you the opportunity to look after yourself; scrubbing your face clean of the day, applying moisturisers and serums, a hair mask massaged into your hair. On instinct, you’d reached for a flannel to wipe your face dry, completely forgetting you’d thrown it into the washing basket earlier that day. Sleepily, your feet dragged you towards the cupboard, just in need of a new face cloth for that evening.

You didn’t expect a lump to form in your throat. With a small gasp, you see the shirt crumpled at the bottom of your neatly stored cupboard. It’s red – that shade of red. A number sixteen was engraved across the back, his name spelt out across the shoulders. That goddamn shirt. You can still remember the day he had given it to you; you’d been sat up in bed, watching with teary eyes as he packed his suitcase, ready to jet away for race weekend. However, this was the one you couldn’t join. An important critic was coming into the restaurant, his review would make or break the kitchen in Monaco.

Instead of tears and pleads not to depart, he’d carefully slipped his red shirt over your torso, the scent of him instantly wafting around your senses. You’d worn that shirt for practice, for qualifying, even under your chef darks that weekend. In your mind, that was what got you the stellar review, and him the first-place position he’d been working hard for. The moment he got home, your lips were on his and celebrations were held.

Now? The shirt served as a memory, a painful one at that. Despite moving on, despite this sanctuary that you had built for yourself, he was still missing. Part of you didn’t think you’d be able to get over that. Not when every few nights, you’d come back to this cupboard, retrieve the shirt and pull the fabric to your chest under your duvet, almost like a dirty secret. Tonight, was no different; you kept the shirt close to you when trailing back to bed, tucking yourself into the soft cupboards, letting sleep overtake you in a matter of moments, the day draining you and the warm scent of him clasped to your body.

Charles had always been a light sleeper; he’d found it especially hard since the presence of you in his bed had disappeared. He was a man of habit, he liked his pillow, the feeling of his favourite joggers wrapped around his legs. He craved your scent when he slept, whether it was feeling your body next to him, the hoodie he had snuck into his travelling case, smothered in your perfume. Nobody else he knew wore that same perfume; it was like a drug to him.

He’d tried everything in the past seven months; no dating, rebounds, nobody could come close to you. That was why he laid in a stranger’s bed, eyes wide open and blinking up at the ceiling. The girl – Christ, he couldn’t even remember her name, was sound asleep, her head resting on Charles’ chest; something he usually despised. You’d never done that; you knew it kept him awake. Instead, you’d let him curl into you, hide your head in his neck, even go as far as to rest his head on your chest, running your nails through his soft hair.

He wanted you. God, he needed you. Even if it was merely being in the same room, sitting opposite him on a couch. Charles had never gotten over the split; his background of the two of you resting on the nose of his car said that all too well.

His deep thoughts were pulled aside when he heard a slight buzzing coming from the floor. The buzzing continued for a few moments, signalling a telephone call; who on earth would be calling? He had no sense of time currently and tried his hardest to relax as the buzzing came to a stop. And then…it started again. Constantly.

Huffing gently, Charles removed himself from the figure, making sure to rest her head gently on one of the pillows. His body ached, he’d rested in such an awkward position, not able to get comfortable. Crouching, his hand fumbled to find his phone in his trouser pocket, the screen giving a dull glow, phone still vibrating. It must have been Arthur; maybe had one-too many drinks and needed a lift home. Pierre, possibly? With the time difference the two were currently in, he could have forgotten.

The last thing he expected to see was your caller ID, flashing on his screen. What on earth was happening right now? You hadn’t called, not since…since you had asked to come and pick up some belongings remaining at his home. He’d cried after you’d left that day, seeing the pieces of the life you’d built together disappearing around him. Then and there, he should have clung to you, begged you to stay, confessed the way he felt like there was no tomorrow.

Nothing in this world or the next could have stopped him from pressing the green button, holding the phone up to his ear, stepping out of the stranger’s bedroom and into their living room, still dipped in darkness.

“Hey.” Is the first word out of his mouth, voice still coated with exhaustion. “Are you okay?”

“Charles?” Your voice catches on itself; it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. The sweet accent sprinkled upon his English, taking you back to a time when he would mumble sweet nothings whilst you curled up together. “Oh my god, Charles- “

“Hey, hey. What’s happening?” His voice is already a comfort. The one comfort that you needed right now.

“Eloise- the manager-“ Your words keep cutting off in your throat, a visible shiver running down your spine. “She’s walked out. They want me to go in and run the breakfast cooperate event- I can’t, I’m in the kitchen-“ You can feel your chest tighten, palms sweaty at the idea. “I need to do kitchen prep; nobody is answering their phones- “

How could you be surprised? It was almost four in the morning.

“Okay.” Charles’ voice is firm, instantly stopping your ramblings. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Go and get everything you need. I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes. We can go in together; I’ll help you until your team arrive.”

The thoughts finally catch up with you – your ex-boyfriend, was up at four in the morning, ready to get up and go, probably sacrifice a night of sleep, probably an evening with a woman he was getting to know, for the sake of you. How on earth was this happening?

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, laced with tears as you hold the mobile to your ear, eyes darting around the room in search of your work bag. You barely hear his response before Charles hangs up the phone, wiggling into his t-shirt, searching for his car keys.

“Always.”

The sun was beginning to peak into the streets of Monaco; time had passed since the initial phone call between Charles and yourself. In nineteen minutes, he had gotten out of the apartment of the woman, slipped into his car, the drive to your new apartment almost memorised. It wasn’t disturbing; he drove past them to get to his own home. Every time he did, his heart longed to run to your front door and take you with him.

Silently, he sends you a text to confirm he’s outside. You’re quick to respond, locking up your apartment. His eyes transfix on your body making its way towards his car; work bag resting on one shoulder, a slick black dress on a hanger resting on the other. You look so small, so tired, but undoubtedly beautiful. Charles wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms.

A tumble of apologies falls through your lips as you climb into the passenger seat, placing your bag and dress onto the car floor. This time, Charles can’t help himself, leaning over the console awkwardly and wrapping his arms around you. Instantly, you…relax. It takes everything in your power not to melt into his touch, to proclaim your love to him once again. Instead, you feel his lips press to your cheek, before stretching back, nodding towards the seatbelt on your left-hand side.

“Strap in.” He presses. “Let’s go.”

Part of you knew that this would always happen. Eloise never liked the transfer to Monaco, her heart wasn’t truly into the place, not like yours was. Nobody was as committed as you; that was said all too well as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, Charles closes behind you. On instinct, your hands find the lightswitch and power buttons, kitchen springing to life.

The Monegasque can’t help but be in awe of the kitchen, sparkly floors, industrial cookers, giant fridges. He’d eaten here so many times before, from lunch dates with his friends and family to breakfast whilst he is waiting for you to finish your morning shift. He’d always sit by the window when alone; the views of Monaco were beautiful, and he could sometimes catch a glimpse of you running outside to the herb garden.

“Okay.” You start, walking towards the fridge. You’d silently thanked yourself for preparation you had done last night; staying for a little longer to prepare whilst the rest of your team ran their dinner service had paid off. Charles followed your pace, standing next to the fridge you had opened, eyes being met with neat labels and containers.

“We don’t need to start cooking yet. But when we do, this is where everything will be. Eggs, salmon, pancake batter…it’s all labelled.” You explain, the man nodding in confirmation. Your fingers slide out a large container of fruit, placing it down on a counter directly across from the fridge. He also notices a neat list tacked to the side of the fridge, your neat writing labelling that it was the opening list you had left yourself of remaining preparation.

“What I do need, is this fruit cut up. Can you…” You trail off, motioning towards the fruit.

“Of course, I can. Let me wash my hands and you go and get your things ready. You’ll come back to the most beautiful fruit.” He grins. You give him a quick nod before making your way to the kitchen door, the steps to the office around the corner.

“If you want a snack or a drink- there’s a coffee machine at the back, just make sure that you press the green button first.”

“I’ve got it.” Charles responds, his hands under the sink, currently being doused in warm water.

“Make sure that you’re using the right knife, hand away from the blade- “

“I guessed that much.”

“-And keep the-“

“Belle. Go and get ready.” The pet-name from so long ago escapes his lips without realising, but the faint tint on your cheeks means that you’ve noticed. Silently, you nod, leaving the kitchen with your bag and dress, your heart thundering like anything as the name rings in your ears.

It opens a metaphorical can of worms for yourself; did Charles still feel some way for him to call you that? It couldn’t have been, surely. It had been too long. You were aware of his string of lovers through the past months, twitter and gossip columns littered with photos of Charles in clubs, girls falling for him at each step he took in those stupidly expensive shoes.

And yet…you thought, brushing your hair into soft curls, opening your makeup compact to see how your appearance was fairing, he had come running the moment you had called. So many outcomes could have happened; ignoring your call, blocking you all together, answering the phone and telling you to delete his number. No. His voice had been soft, promising that he would be there to help you out.

Belle. It wasn’t just a simple nickname. It had come out of an evening of babysitting Penelope whilst Max and Kelly took an evening to themselves. You had sat in the comfort of Charles’ sofa, the child curled up on your lap, eyes transfixed on Beauty and the Beast, playing on the television whilst the driver had started making his favourite girls some dinner. It hadn’t taken long for Penelope to notice that the yellow sundress you had worn was identical to the princess on screen, or at least, in her eyes.

“Charlie!” She had pointed at the screen, before pointing back at you, grinning. “She’s just like Belle!”

“Hmm?” Charles looked up from the cutting board of vegetables, trying somehow to disguise the food from the child. He finally connects the dots, seeing the reference the girl had made. He can’t help the soft smile on his face, seeing his then-girlfriend smooth out the yellow dress. “She is, isn’t she?” He grinned, taking one of the flowers from the bouquet Max had bought for Kelly and then forgotten when dropping off Penelope. “She’s my Belle.”

The nickname had stuck ever since then. His beauty. Every time you wore that dress, he had gone out of his way to present you with roses, a clear reference to the rose from the movie. Even as you had left his apartment on that fateful day, he had murmured the name to you as you’d left, a silent promise to himself that you would always be his belle.

Even today, he had said it. You replayed the moment you’d left the kitchen in your mind, slipping into the dress that you had bought in. You huffed for a moment, trying to zip up the back of the dress, eventually finding an awkward angle, not even wanting to question how you’d get the garment off later.

With a final look in the mirror, you nodded to your reflection, coming out of the office, the sales system and network set up for the day. You’d taken a handful of breakfast menus with you too; two servers and a bartender would be in momentarily, you’d left a message on the group page to inform them you would be running the morning, with a promise of celebration drinks that evening if everything ran smoothly.

As you made your way down the stairs, heels clicking on the ornate flooring which connected each room, you could hear…music? Your questions were answered as you opened the door to the kitchen, eyes widening.

Fruit was cut up, cold cuts had been presented, bread samples ready for the customers, every single piece of preparation on that list you had created was complete. And in the centre of it all, Charles hummed along to the music playing from his phone, carefully slicing up some mixed berries for the smoothie packets. His eyes darted up when hearing the door open, lips parted slightly at seeing you look so…professional. You could leave anybody weak with that smile, the dress.

“Look at you!” He cheers, letting his eyes drink you in. He steps away from the fruit, wiping his hands onto his jogging bottoms, before taking your hand in his. “You’re going to knock them dead.” He presses, lifting your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he can even realise. His eyes suddenly widen upon realisation, but when you don’t step away and instead just smile, he can’t help but calm a little. He never knows what would happen next, because the door to the reception area opens, the two servers and kitchen assistants filing into the restaurant, ready for their day.

Charles drives you home after the cooperate clients have finished, singing nothing but praise and their thanks for a delicious breakfast. The restaurant had closed in order to prepare for their dinner service. The first thing you had done was run into the kitchen, pulling the entire team, Charles included into the tightest hug, thanking them all for the support you had given one another. No bad words could ever be said about you, of course the team wanted to help. They were all adamant in that moment that you and Charles must have been back together, dubbing him the ‘boyfriend of the century.’

Neither of you said nothing, instead just exchanging glances.

The drive home was peaceful, sleep beginning to overtake your body. If it wasn’t for the dress, you would have fallen asleep there and then. Instead, Charles pulls up outside of your home, eyes staring over to you, a silent signal that you had arrived back.

“Would you-“ Your lips are forming the words before you can stop yourself. “Did you want to come up for a drink? As a thank you.” You press. In your heart-of-hearts, you’re not ready to say goodbye to Charles. Not again.

“Yes.” He responds almost too quickly, pulling his car into a parking space, engine shutting off and keys being removed from the vehicle. The driver follows you up the stairs to the comfort of your complex. He had never been to your new apartment. As the heavy door opens, he can feel his breath catch, a lump in his throat upon seeing all the belongings of yours, scattered around your new home.

“So, this is it.” You explain, slipping off the heels by the front door, making a mental note to put them away later. “What kind of drink would you like? Something strong? Warm?” You attempt to wiggle your arms in an unruly matter to remove the garment. Charles sees you struggling, wordlessly taking the zip in his delicate fingers, zipping down the dress as he had done on so many previous nights. Your nod towards him thanks him, stepping into your bedroom to retrieve some comfortable clothing.

“Do you still have that tea?” He asks. “The cinnamon one?” He’d never been able to find it once you had moved out, convinced that it only existed when you were about.

“Cupboard next to the sink!” You shout back, wiggling into some soft joggers, your body instantly relaxing around the cotton. When you step back into the living area, Charles is offering a mug of tea, a warm smile on his face. He’s found the proportion of milk and sugar that goes best for your taste; of course, he remembers that. The same way he remembers what end of the sofa you prefer to sit on, leaving space to nestle in beside one another.

Silent sips are taken, before the mugs are placed down on the coffee table. When Charles arm comes back from resting down the mug, it finds itself behind your body, pulling you ever so closer towards him. When you don’t hesitate, he can feel his hear race. He’s certain it’s exploding when you rest your head on his shoulder, almost as if the previous seven months never happened.

“Why did you come today?” You ask softly, not wanting to break the moment between the two of you. There’s no answer for a moment, Charles shifting slightly so he could catch your eyes in his own. He looks down to where your hands had become subconsciously entwined, seeing the way your fingers wrapped around his.

“Belle, do you really think I feel so little for you, I wouldn’t come to save you?” He murmurs, leaning close enough to rest your foreheads upon one another. Your eyelids feel heavy, closing them and revelling in the touch that you felt, one you’d been craving for so long. A hand runs over your cheek, tilting your head upwards, hot breath dancing across your cheeks.

“It was you. It was always you.” He murmurs, closing the gap between the two of you, his soft lips feeling at home for the first time in so, so long.

That night, you fall asleep in your bed properly for the first time in seven months. A warm body rests beside you, their face pressed into your neck in a silent comfort, hands entwined. Seven months was a long time, after all. There was a lot to make up for.

charles_leclerc:

Liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc and 708,502 others

charles_leclerc: Celebration swim for the new manager of Monaco Marina. I could not be prouder of you, Belle. Here's to your next victory.

view all comments:

arthur_leclerc: alright Ross and Rachel

f1paddockpercival: THEY'RE BACK OMG OMG OMG ITS HAPPENING

smoothchilisainz: children of divorce our day has ARRIVED

maxverstappen1: Did I miss a chapter mate? Congratulations!

schecoperez: Bringing the family in for lunch soon, we expect nothing but the best from our girl. Vamos!

Tag List: @ishwiya @stillbreathin @like-fire-love-blog @rafaaoli @deviltsunoda

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noisyquokka · 8 months

Note

Bro you write Felix so well! I have an idea for a request if you're willing ^^

He buys the reader flowers a lot and keeps one from each bouquet so he knows when the rest are dying and he can buy them more! It doesn't have to be boyfriend!felix, I'll leave that up to you! Just something super cute and wholesome, love that!!

A Lesson in Gift-Giving

PAIRING - Felix x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - Sometimes gift-giving doesn't go as smooth as you plan. Felix realizes the error of his ways after months away on tour.

WORDCOUNT - 2.5k

WARNINGS - Fluff, humor, newly-established relationship, which means there's a little miscommunication, but we get through it like champs ✊🏻

A/N - I love this idea so much! Got a little inspo just from your request, which I added in, hope you don't mind 😅 Wrote it as bf!Felix just cause it's a vibe.

"This is... definitely not getting out of hand."

You mutter these words to yourself as you stare down the latest delivery of fresh cut flowers sitting on your kitchen counter. Pink and white mini-carnations stare back at you in all their ruffled-petal glory, their sweet scent wafting through your personal space. The handwritten note between your fingers is cheesy and adorable; so very Felix. You scratch the side of your head in bemusement.

Most would say such a reaction to a bouquet of flowers was rude, considering it came from your boyfriend. But as you sit here amongst the variety of florals in your home, you think you've had enough to sustain you for the rest of the year.

It all began with one trip to a local Flea Market. You had stepped inside one of the mini shops on the way out only to catch the dashing white orchids in their pot on the shelf. Felix had offered to buy them for you as a little gift, and with hearts in your eyes, you had accepted. You stare at it now - a glorious centerpiece of four months that is absolutely thriving in its own right.

Then came the fresh cut peonies.

You were over the moon when Felix had surprised you with the first bouquet two weeks later, but you never could've imagined the deluge of flowers that would follow like clockwork. And you accepted all of them with the utmost gratitude. You'd also developed an odd relationship with the delivery guy over time; saying nothing verbally, but everything with the great art of facial miming, if that was even a thing.

The only thing about such a gift is that your place was beginning to look less like a home and more like a florist's shop. Your kitchen island not only held your thriving orchid display, but those same lush peonies, now dried in hues of dusty pinks. As your collection of flowers grew, so did your creativity. The flourishing arrangement of blooms that you had gotten for your four month anniversary had been carefully pressed between paper-towel-lined book pages for roughly two weeks before you were able to proudly display them in the frame above your bed.

It's safe to say you've turned just about every blank space in your home into a floral oasis over the last few months.

What was supposed to be a simple, romantic gesture was quickly derailing. Only problem was you had to be the one to stop it. After being with Felix for six months, you'd think such a simple conversation would be... well, simple. And yet, you stand here in a state of blooming panic.

A knock at the door brings you back to your current predicament. Your fingers twitch around the cardstock, crumpling the edge as your feet move in short strides toward the entrance. You're half expecting the delivery guy again, but as you swing the door open, you're even more surprised to find your boyfriend standing there with a smile that rivals the sun and-

"More flowers...!"

They're Dahlias this time - an arrangement of small but vibrant Orange Button blooms that compliment their larger, blushing Café au Lait companions. The contrast between them in both size and color is stunning; warm candle flames licking at the edges of whimsical ivory bones.

"Special delivery!" Felix's bubbly voice sets your heart in motion, and although you're seeing flower petals behind your eyelids, you can't help but smile at the cellophane-wrapped bouquet in his hand. A tote bag hangs off his other arm, filled to the brim with you can only guess what.

"Felix!?" You shake your head but lunge at him with open arms, a mix of confusion and excitement crossing your face. "Tour doesn't end for another three days. What are you doing here?"

"Last stop was canceled so I pulled some strings and caught a red-eye." He murmurs, burying his nose into your scalp. You feel him sink into your touch, a deep release of breath that says he's happy to be back home. God, did he miss you.

You pull away, ushering him inside and taking the flowers with the utmost care.

"Dahlias aren't even in season yet, where'd you get these?!"

You miss the furrow of his brow as he slugs his shoes off at the mat, following you through the immediate hallway.

"I may have pulled some more strings..." Felix trails off, footsteps faltering once he's in the open space of the kitchen and living room. He hears your laugh, lips quirking into a lopsided grin as he takes in the familiar centerpiece on the island. When you turn around, you catch those brown eyes shift from the orchids to the peonies that sit beside them. He points at the mummified bouquet with a tilt of his head.

"Are those~" He blinks, setting the tote bag down on the cool marble. "Are those the peonies I bought you for our one month?"

You hum an affirmative, lips thinning as you disappear down the hallway in search of a vase. Every single floral in your house is like a bright red flag in the apartment; waving rampantly in your peripheral as you pass through the living room. Good god, Felix hasn't even noticed those yet. The thought has you losing focus, fingers mindlessly shuffling through the vast collection of vases in the hall closet.

The crumpled petals in their muted pinks and creams stare back at the man as he leans against the kitchen island, chin resting in the palm of his hand with narrowed eyes. Felix would've expected these to be long gone by now. The peonies that had once been so vibrant and alive are nothing more than dried stems and petals in a ceramic vase. To him, they look less-than-lively in their current state. The sound of socked feet padding back into the living room shifts his attention. He doesn't even notice the other displays behind you, too focused on your presence alone.

"I'm no florist, Love, but these look like they're past their prime." There's a hint of a smile on his lips when he finishes his quip, and you can't help but chuckle. Twitchy fingers reach for the junk drawer handle, pulling it open with a lazy arm.

"I know they're not as beautiful as when you first gave them to me," You say, grabbing the set of pruners and scissors that rest among snack clips, rubber bands and the like, "but trust me when I say that they're still pretty."

"They look dead." He deadpans, padding around the island in few strides. He watches you work intently, leaning against the countertop as you cut the wrapping away and cut back the stems. The tap runs in the sink, cooler for the delicate blooms in your hands.

"They're not-" You start, filling the chosen vase a quarter of the way and mixing the food packet in. Your cheeks feel warm from the comment and you dip your head as you work. "Well, I guess they are technically dead..."

You hear the chuff of a laugh from your boyfriend and glance over your shoulder, quickly looking forward again when you find citrine eyes already on you. The grin on Felix's face is soft and yet you feel your face heat up even more. If he's teasing me about the peonies, what's he gonna say about the others?

"I dried them, so to me, they're just... frozen in time." You say, pruning the few leaves from the lower stems.

"You dried them?" He sounds surprised. You nod, placing the flowers into their yellow porcelain vase, fiddling with the placement of each blossom more than you should.

It's now, when you're preoccupied, that Felix's eyes rove over the island to the living room and his eyes widen. The Gladiolus bouquet from almost two weeks ago sits on the coffee table as a centerpiece, still alive by some miracle. Even more surprising, the Hydrangeas from a week and a half ago sit in a glass jar on the console table behind your sofa. The water in the makeshift vase is just about gone, settled in the base of the jar touching just the tips of the clipped stems.

"Baby, how are these still alive?" He asks, walking around the island towards the displays in the living area. Your attention shifts, following his movements as he stands there baffled by the still pristine blooms on the coffee table. Felix turns his head to you, your fingers laced in front of you as you move away from the Dahlias in their yellow porcelain vase.

"Felix, I have to tell you something."

Dark brows knit at your tone, voice mumbling and awkward as you tap your index nail onto your opposite ones.

"What, Love?"

"It's just- ah-" You let out a tense exhale, your heart beat picking up in your chest. "It's a little embarrassing to say, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but the flowers have gotten a bit out of hand... and..."

You pause in your ramblings, glancing up to your boyfriend who is still fascinated by the week old flowers. He picks up the jar of Hydrangeas with a careful hand, eyeing the petals that have begun their wilting and drying process. Observing. Analyzing. For a moment you believe he's so focused on them that your words have gone unheard, but he shifts his gaze to yours with arched brows and narrowed browns.

"How'd you manage to keep these fresh so long? The florist's site said they'd last a little under a week if you were lucky."

You tilt your head toward the ceiling, pressing your lips together as you scratch at the nape of your neck.

"I may or may not have some background in floristry..." You trail, voice going higher as you speak. Your fingers clench over your thumb as your eyes flicker about the living space, avoiding eye contact. "It's part of why I'm telling you. I love the flowers, Felix, I really do. But, it's just becoming a bit much."

"Love," Felix sets the flowers down with a sigh, and you keep your eyes on the far wall out of shame. He's mad, disappointed... he's something! And it's not a good someth-

You startle at the feeling of warm hands cupping your cheeks and your wide eyes dart forward to meet his. He takes in your expression, noticing the nervous shifting and fidgeting. Felix offers you his full attention - a warm smile and warm eyes, those familiar crescents.

"Why are you so nerved up? There's nothing to be ashamed of, you know I support you in everything." He leans forward and in an instant you feel him press a kiss to your forehead. Your chest lightens at the gesture.

"So you're not mad?"

"Never! Though I wish you would've told me that you were knowledgeable in fresh cut flowers. I only sent you new ones after the flower I took from each bouquet wilted on me."

His confession makes you laugh, your eyes closing as you shake your head.

"I was wondering why one was missing from every delivery. I thought someone was shortchanging you!"

"No, I wanted you to have something to brighten up the place when I'm gone. I guess I didn't consider the idea of you knowing anything on flowers..." He trails, chuckling to himself. His hands leave your face, taking their familiar place wrapped around your waist as he pulls you into him. Felix's chin rests atop your head, and you bring your own arms around his torso, nails scratching lightly against his shoulder blades. You press your face into his chest.

"So, where'd you learn all your magical floristry skills from?" He asks, glancing around the place for any other old bouquets he'd gifted you.

"My grandfather." You murmur, tilting your head up to catch his eye. Your arms tighten around him. "He was always out in the garden, spent most of his lifetime caring for his flowers out there, I'm pretty sure. Everything he'd taught me was through his own trial and error."

"Well, sure seems like you've perfected some of his teachings." Felix muses, grinning down at you. A scoff leaves you and you wave away his high praises.

"It's nothing, really. I just enjoy the process." You feel your cheeks heating up again, so you press your face back into the fabric of his hoodie.

"It's nothing?" Felix's arms tighten around your waist, lifting you easily and sitting himself down on the couch so you're draped over his lap. You settle your face in the crook of his neck, feeling him huff out a content sigh as he relaxes into the cushions. "You are so humble... but you have to admit, you're a natural at this. Maybe we should open up a flower shop together, hm? I'll take the orders, you just do your thing with this beautiful mind of yours." He nuzzles his chin into the side of your head with a chuckle, fingers cascading over the skin of your hip.

"You gonna take orders on tour, too?" You tease, fighting back a grin.

"You betcha! Your talent can be shipped worldwide." He glances down to gauge your reaction, the corners of his lips curled up in a smug amusement. Though there's that genuine affection seeping through as well. The kind that makes your heart flutter. You roll your eyes, but your hostility is lost with the curl to your lips. You press a soft kiss to Felix's neck, his expression shifting as he rests his head against the back of the couch.

"You really think I could open a flower shop?"

"You could be anything you wanna be, Love." He says, shifting so that you're facing each other. He draws you closer, hands moving to the curve of your shoulders. You can feel his heart beating against your own, missing that skin-to-skin contact that he's been craving for the past few months on tour. The living room settles into contentedness for a moment; just fingers brushing skin and shallow breaths as you both keep your eyes on one another.

"I love you," Felix whispers, lips brushing against yours once, twice, until they fully connect in a sweet kiss.

"And I love you," You mumble, smiling against him. "but I'll happily take your brownies every week for the next year."

"No more flowers, then?" You scrunch your nose at his question, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from laughing at the ridiculousness of your situation.

"You are the biggest rom-com protagonist I've ever laid my eyes on."

Felix's eyes light up with a playful spark as he tilts his head to the side, a deep chuckle rumbling his chest.

"What can I say, I try." He's oh, so humble about it; eyebrows arching in a cocky manner, a lopsided grin on his lips. He presses another kiss to your lips, slow and lingering as his hands slip to your lower back. You can't help but smile against his mouth, bringing a hand up to tangle in the dark tresses of hair. He hums before pulling back, suddenly remembering something.

"Speaking of being the best boyfriend alive-"

"Your words, but sure-"

"-I brought some takeout and a few other gifts from overseas... but you said you wanted brownies soooo..." He looks off elsewhere, and you roll your eyes.

"Babe!"

Felix laughs, the sound a gentle melody to your ears. Your eyes meet again and he shoots you a loving smile, nodding toward the bag sitting on the counter.

"They're yours, Love." He murmurs, fingers tapping the side of your leg to usher you off the couch.

"C'mon. The quicker we eat, the quicker I get to cuddle you to sleep."

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#stray kids #skz #lee felix #stray kids x reader #skz x you #lee felix x reader #skz felix #skz x reader #skz lee felix #lee felix imagines #skz imagines #gn reader #x gender neutral reader #quokkawritings🌻

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thatone-brightstar · 6 months

Text

More than all the stars (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader) (The Bear & The Fox Series)

Chapter 2: Heavy is the head 'n all that

Words: 4.9k

summary: Carmy gets a visit from an old friend/ you offer Richie a fresh new start.

a/n: Hiii, i know i took my sweet time to update this but i did have some fun stuff to write for kinktober (link here! if you haven't read that) and it truly helped to regain my creativity to continue this bad boy so here ya go!

remember reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected, in the shower, fluff and smut, oral sex (male receiving), cock warming if you squint

Chapter 1.

Carmy’s hand holds a gentle yet firm grip on yours as you scout the various colorful stands selling all sorts of produce along the busy street. Despite the restaurant being closed for a few weeks now, the routine seemed hard to break and you had both woken up early enough to catch the market. Between coffee scented clouds and the murmur of conversation, you stroll alongside Carmen, stopping at every few booths to check out the products and take the vendors information for future deliveries. Though not buying as much as you usually would for The Beef, it felt nice to buy your groceries directly from the source.

“So what did Marge say about Ava’s classes?” He asks in your direction, distracted by the crate of shiny tomatoes occupying the sidewalk.

“Oh, I think her words were ‘anything for your little niece, my sweet’.” You answer back in a terrible imitation of an english accent.

“Your little niece, huh?” He adds with a smirk, taking a sip from the tea filled travel cup in his other hand.

“Alright, chill-” You reply with a similar smile. “It’s for Ava.”

You stop and let go of his hand to pick out a box of cherries and pull cash from your bag to pay. Carmy notices the bag starting to fill up and takes the handles off your shoulder, swinging it over his own and threading his fingers through yours once again. He pulls up your hand to place a warm peck on it, raising a red on your face that almost matched the cherries.

From your point of view, the morning sun casts a brilliant glow over the baseball hat hiding his untamed hair. Little specks of gold dance along his barely untrimmed jaw and another blush sparks over your features as the image of you kissing his stubble pops into your head.

“D’you think it’d be weird if I gave Richie my mom’s number?” You voice your thoughts suddenly.

He turns to you with a puzzled expression. “And the thought came to you because…?”

You shrug and redirect your attention back to the rows of polished apples beside you. “Dunno. I just- I don’t think she’s ever gone out with anyone since well… y’know.”

Carmy nods his head slowly in a way that shows he understands and doesn’t pressure you to over explain. “And you wanna start with Richie?” He jokes instead.

“C’mon he’s not a bad guy. And he’s not bad lookin’ either… he just needs a push.”

A low mumble from his direction makes you turn your head and you almost don’t hear him whisper against the lid of his cup. “If you like stupid Richie so much, why don’t you fuckin’ marry ‘em…”

You laugh at his words, joyful and warm, and shove him softly with your elbow. “I meant, that it’d be nice to see them happy...” Your eyes wander up to him again, only to find his already darting over your face, a sweet smile set in place. “To have something like this. Don’t you think?”

Carmy lets go of your hand to throw his arm over your shoulder and pull you in even closer while another giggle blooms over your chest.

“I think that’s a great idea.” He whispers near your ear. “Your mother’s definitely the push Richie could use.”

Once your bag is too full to keep cramming stuff in and you’ve swept the streets multiple times, you finally make your way out. There’s a tiny old lady in a small booth by the edge selling colorful bouquets that you almost don’t notice. But he does and stops beside it, quickly handing her the money with a shy smile and picking out the one with the most Carnations on it.

“Here.” He says and leans down to peck your cheek.

You flush and whisper a sweet ‘thank you’, cradling the delicate buds between your free hand and your chest. Even in the cold breeze surrounding you, the heat radiating off you is enough to keep you warm all the way home.

**********

He had not known a second of peace after dropping you off at the gallery that morning. Between deep cleaning and crunching numbers with Nat, Carmy’s head felt like it was splitting in two.

“Jesus fuck…” He mumbles, pinching tightly between his brows in hopes that it dissipates the incoming migraine. “I swear we can’t catch a fuckin’ break.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make my day either-“ She answers back sarcastically. “We’re gonna need someone to come get it tested-“

“Tested for what?” Richie interrupts, hand pointing to the same spot on the wall where the siblings are staring.

“For fucking rabies- mold Richard, what do you think-“

“-You’re makin a storm out of nothin’ Nat-“

“It’s not nothing, it’s mold-”

“Mold is just a trigger word, okay-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me think.” Carmy speaks louder than intended, the sound vibrating in his skull and making him wince.

He takes a deep breath then rises his head up again.

“Yeah- yeah I think we’re gonna need to call someone for that. Check how much it’s gonna be?” He asks his sister, who only rolls her eyes and nods, turning away.

“Cousin c’mon, I can totally fix that shit-“

“Cousin-“

“-I just need some sealant and-“

“Cousin-“

“-good as fuckin’ new-“

“Richie!” He shouts and shuts his eyes at the shutter in his head. “Just… let an expert do it, alright?”

He watches as his cousin opens his mouth to respond, then instead closes it and raises his hands in surrender, muttering a soft ‘alright, fine.’

“Oh, that reminds me, I gotta go pick up Ava and drop her at your girl’s class. Need anythin’ while I’m gone?”

Carmy shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose once again, a habit often repeated and confirmed by the tender ache on his nose bridge. “No, we’re good. Still can’t do much without the fuckin’ permits.” He mutters back.

“ Did Jimmy get back to you on that?”

“Not since you asked this morning…” His voice sounds irritated, but it has more to do with the pulsing in his head.

Richie only nods and despite wanting to, doesn’t keep pushing it. He instead only throws a ‘call me if you need anythin’ and quickly exits through the patched up front door, washing Carmy in yellow afternoon rays before it quickly closes and he's back to the fluorescent blue.

With the silence of the empty restaurant, he allows himself a second to breathe, even falling heavily on one of the few dust covered stools that haven’t been taken down to storage yet. Carmy pulls a cigarette from the fresh package in his back pocket and lights it, taking a deep drag that instantly numbs out the start of a headache. While he takes another deep drag, he pulls out his phone where your text sits under a reminder to ‘call the fucking fridge guy, carmy <3’ from his sister.

There’s another rattle from the door and he rolls his eyes, typical of his cousin to forget something when he was probably too far away to come back, so he doesn’t even bother to turn around. Instead he presses the call button and waits, leg shaking impatiently over the footrest and camouflaging the steps moving closer to him.

“Hey…” He hears once the call sends him to voicemail and the delicate tube in his hand almost breaks at the filter. The familiar voice crashes over his back and drowns him instantly in freezing water. “...I’m looking for a Ms. Carmen Berzatto?”

**********

For the first time in weeks, the gallery finally seemed to fall into its usual serene pace. Winter vacation was over and your classes had begun filling up again- with children retelling the tales of the places they visited while out of the city. Marjorie had informed you that morning that word of mouth had followed its course since the charity event and six more kids would be joining you in a few days, and now you had more easels to put together before the weekend.

The small plastic screw falls off your hand for the second time and you groan up to the ceiling before picking it up. The easels came with too many small pieces to count and the fact that you still had four more to finish in the back, did not help with the overall mood. As you place the screw back into the little hole and press the screwdriver against the head, it pops to the side and goes bouncing off out of your view.

While you crouch down and pull your hair back to try and see if it’s anywhere close, the entrance bell signals a new arrival, and the excited steps that follow have you straightening back up. ‘Is it five o'clock already?’ you think and instinctively run your hands down the paint hardened apron, as if that’ll make it seem more presentable. A relaxed breath calms you down at the familiar sound of Richie’s voice calling you from the front.

“Back here!” You call out and begin to group up all the scattered screws you can find for a day where each piece won’t make you want to cry.

“There’s our Michelangelo!” He belts out as soon as he spots you, extending one long arm to his side, while the other is taken hostage by a small little thing cradling a Bluey backpack.

Once he’s close enough, the extended arm hooks over your shoulders and pulls you to his chest, placing a chaste kiss over your hair. ‘okay-’ is all you can say and push him away lightly once he’s already letting you go.

“Again- thank you for this-” Richie groans slightly while carefully placing Ava on the floor in front of him, his hands on her shoulders swallowing up her small frame. “She promised to be on her bestest behavior, right Ava?” She nods shyly.

It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before. He’s being tender and kind, and has spoken more than five words without wedging a single ‘fuck’ into the sentence. You can say you’re impressed, though the feeling soon turns sour- like the many times you’ve been a spectator to a loving father/ daughter duo. Richie’s rubbing his thumb softly over her cherry cheeks and even though it’s a simple action that shouldn’t arise anything, the uncomfortable knot in your throat still takes its place.

From his kneeled position, he can see the various pieces of chunky plastic laying astray and he signals with his head in its direction.

“New exhibition or somethin’?”

You clear your throat quickly and wipe the beginning of your sweaty palms on the back of your shirt, embarrassed that you may have been caught staring.

“Uh, no actually. Just some fuc-un-” You correct yourself instantly when your eyes flicker to the small child. “-some fun easels I have to assemble for the new kids.”

“Let me help you-” He’s quick on his feet, already picking up the screwdriver before you get a chance to decline.

“No, leave it- it’s fine. I’ll try again tomorrow… plus, don’t you have to head back to The Beef?”

He only shrugs and takes off his jacket, then begins to count the number of holes on the plastic and pulls out the same number of screws.

“Can’t do much without permits. And you look like you could use the help.”

You crack your locked knuckles as you watch him work, still considering rejecting the offer. But he joins together more pieces in those ten minutes than you have in half an hour, and who are you to reject a man searching for purpose? Instead, you take Ava’s bag from her and lead her to one of the newer stations before the rest of the kids arrive.

“Thank you.” You offer with a small smile in his direction, right before the bell rings again and more hurried footsteps echo in your direction.

“If you’re still feeling charitable, there’s four more in the back-” You add in a hurry and shrug apologetically at the stunned look over his face. “You offered to help…”

Richie ended up staying through the whole lesson. Wandering every few minutes behind his daughter’s station, arms folded with the screwdriver still in hand and contemplating the canvas like the world’s most respected critic. It took him the whole hour and a half to finish assembling all the easels and only had plastic wrap to pick up by the time the last kid left.

Ava sat happy in your rolling chair, sugar-free cookie crumbs sprinkled around her face and paint stained fingers.

“Isn’t that shit toxic?” Richie asks through a concerned face as he bent down to pick up the last of the trash.

You also turn in her direction and shrug, cleaning your own hands with a rag. “Not really, we buy non-toxic for finger painting. It was easier than asking them to stop licking it off…” He only nods at your response- but not fully convinced- sends Ava to wash her hands a second time.

“Thanks again for the help.” You call out with a nod in his direction, then bite your lip.

You don’t know what to say or how to bring it up, only left staring at him as your mouth opens and closes, popping the bubble wrap in your hands. “Hey, Richie?”

He turns, brows raised. ‘There’s no turning back now’.

“Have you tried uh… y’know, dating after Ava’s mom?”

“Listen kid, you know I love ya, but Carmy’s family and-” You roll your eyes and throw the trash in his direction, barely missing his head.

“Not like that, dumbass!” You scold with an amused smile. “I just thought- god this is so fuckin’ weird- here.”

Richie’s expression is puzzled, eyes darting between the contents of your outstretched hand and your own flushed face. He reaches towards it and when he finally takes it, your hand retrieves back to your body and crosses over your chest.

“And this is…?”

“It’s my mother’s number… I know you kinda got a thing for her.” You wave your hand in the air when it looks like he’s about to contradict your statement. “C’mon dude, I have eyes, ‘kay? ’m not blind. A bit grossed out, but not blind.” You admit the last part only to yourself.

The silence breaks with the sound of soft steps on the stairs and an enthusiastic rendition of ‘shake it off’. Richie folds the small paper and buries it securely in his jacket pocket, clearing his throat in the process.

“She likes white wine but not the sweet kind, salsa- both food and the dance- and don’t even mention Celia Cruz or she’ll never shut up about her.” You rush through as the little steps move closer to the back.

“Thanks.” He mumbles back, then a slight grin forms over his face. “So does that make me your dad now?” He teases and you groan, rolling your eyes for the third time in less than two hours.

“Don’t make me regret it- and don’t make it weirder, okay?!”

Your phone rings from inside the apron before he has a chance to bicker back and a smile grows on your face at the caller ID.

“Hey Carm, ready for later?” You turn away from Richie, who cleans the crumbs off Ava’s face before swinging her bag over his shoulder and waving goodbye.

There’s a few silent seconds on the other line, then a heavy sigh travels through the phone and perches over your chest. “Uh, yeah about that…”

“Oh no…” You interrupt before he even has the chance to explain.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry-” He begins and you can hear the shuffling on the other side. You can almost picture him running his hand through his already messy hair and staring up at the ceiling as if he’ll find all of life’s answers there. “I’ll explain at home but right now I gotta stay later.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just reschedule and see if they can show us the place another day.” Your voice sounds reassuring, though all that’s running through your head is the lightweight promise he made a few days back.

“Yes-okay, great.” Carmy answers rushed, not catching the slight disappointment in your tone. “This is turning out way more difficult than I thought.” He mumbles against the mic.

“Well, y'know ‘heavy is the head’ ‘n all that.” Your smile grows nervous as you try lightening the mood but only a distracted half sigh, half laugh follows a second later.

He clears his throat and rushes through his words again. “Listen, don’t make dinner. I’ll buy us somethin’ on the way home, okay?”

“Yeah, sure… see you at home.”

**********

The train ride home bombards your thoughts with a little guilt. You couldn’t help the slight disappointment ringing in your ears from the failed promise. Then you remember how hard he’s been working lately- or since you’ve known him really- and you feel foolish for letting such a small thing get to you.

So once you arrive home, instead of dinner, you round up the few candles you brought with you and place them strategically around the small bathroom. Then you do your best to scrub the paint out from under your fingernails and strip into nothing but the soft fluffy blue robe he gave you on Christmas. Once you see the short ‘omw’ text, you begin to light the candles, praying they won’t burn the place down, and entertain yourself by arranging the Carnations from that morning in a little vase you made at the gallery. ‘I should give it a friend’

The muffled jingle of keys cuts your train of thought short, followed by his footsteps and a heavy sigh once he shuts the door and takes his coat off.

“Babe?”

“In the kitchen!” You call back and bite your lip in anticipation, quickly rearranging the robe so your collarbone is a little more exposed.

“What? No- I brought dinner…” His tone dies down once he spots you around the corner, take out bag weighing down from his outstretched arm.

“‘M not making dinner.” You answer with a soft smile and keep your attention on the flowers sitting beside you on the counter.

His gaze shamelessly runs along your bare legs, crossed in a way that exposes all the way up to your upper thigh but no more than that. You take your time to finish trimming the rest of the stems, then push the vase to the side and swing your legs to hop off the counter. The movement seems absolutely graceful to him and he can’t do anything but lean against the wall to regain his balance as you move closer to him.

You hold on to the sides of his torso and stand up on your toes to kiss his lips sweetly. You wanted it to be a quick teasing kiss, but his hand wraps around your back immediately and presses your chests together. He sighs against your mouth, the ‘thump’ of the bag hitting the floor vibrates in the room and soon both his arms circle you close.

Your hands cling to his broad shoulders and your toes drag along the floor as he lifts you lightly and moves deeper into the room. The simple movement makes your head swoon with love.

“...missed you.” He mumbles between kisses down your cheek and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing again.

“Hard day?”

He only nods, too occupied with the kisses he leaves on your exposed skin. You place another on his hair and peel yourself away slowly, hands still tight over his.

“C’mon.” You whisper and nod deeper into the apartment.

His brow creases with questions he doesn’t ask, instead following behind you silently into the room. The usual white tiles glow yellow with the tiny dancing flames, Carmy’s eyes instantly catch on to the flickering shadows and take his breath away. When you turn to him, his eyes are wide and soft, with the small specks of the candle wicks glistening inside them. Your hand lets go of his to run a tender finger over a smudge on his cheek, while the other begins to undo the knot on your robe.

He’s motionless. The only sign of movements come from the slight bob of his Adam’s apple and the way his eyes constantly drag down to your chest before he pulls them back up.

“I wanna help you relax…” Your voice is sweet, barely above a whisper and drowned out by the sound of the soft fabric cascading down your body and pooling around your feet. “Can I?”

All he can do is nod, transfixed by the way your tan skin glows almost golden in the flickering lights. He lets you pull the white shirt over his head, then while he finishes undressing, you turn the water on and watch as the steam starts invading the empty space. Carmy’s hands caress the sides of your hips and little kisses spark the goosebumps on your shoulder, but once you’re both fully inside, you wiggle away from his touch and turn to face him again.

“I’m taking care of you.” You repeat, and grab his biceps to push him deeper into the streaming water.

You let it fall over his head until the locks grow a shade darker and most of them lose their bounce, then you turn the water down and reach for your scented shampoo.

“Turn ‘around for me?.” You request while you lather the soap on your hands.

Carmy rolls his eyes and gives you a toothy grin, but obliges anyway. You can see his shoulders instantly relax as your fingers tread through the curls, nails raking gently over his scalp in a rhythmic motion that has his neck losing a hold of his head and tipping it towards the cold tile. A smug smile covers your face, wet strands of hair decorating your cheeks, and you even make an effort to continue the gentle movements even after the bubbles have disappeared.

Instead of washing it away, you bring the massage down to his neck, thumbs pressing insistently over the numerous knots you find on your way down. He’s no different than the clay you’ve been experimenting with at work, you offer him as much tenderness and dedication as you would any other work of art.

The soft sounds of his breathing mix with the thin stream of water rushing over your bodies. You didn’t even notice how close you’ve moved to him until your breath bounces back to your cheeks. You take the chance to place little wet kisses along his spine as your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and the shudder he breathes out makes the taste of shampoo on your lips completely worth it. You press them to his warm skin again and again as your hands work down his spine and to the pretty dimples decorating the bottom of it.

By the time your movements have ceased, both of your breathing is struggling with need.

You use the last bit of control in your voice to call his name. “Carmy…” It’s almost silent, but the plea in your tone is enough to make him turn to you.

The sight of his blown out pupils and the way his hair darkens his face is enough to make you come on the spot. Without hesitation, you gently drape your arms over his puffing chest, raking your nails over it as you pepper kisses in a messy line down. Your knees fall over the tile with a soft slap that resonates in the quiet room.

“Fuck-” Carmen blows out, eyes fixated on how fucking good you look on your knees for him.

Your need is too strong to tease him, instead you take his already hard cock in your hand and start giving it a few soft pumps without losing his stare.

“Will you let me take care of you?” You ask again in a sultry voice. The water droplets have accumulated over your lashes and your wet hair cascades over your shoulders, making you look ethereal in Carmy’s eyes and all he can do is nod and sigh when you kiss the tip.

His hand flies up to grip the slick tiles when you finally wrap your lips around his girth and take him fully into your mouth. The rhythm is slow and torturous as you pull moan after groan from the depths of his chest, until he grows too impatient and his hips begin to buck forward into your mouth.

“That’s it baby, that’s it… oh fuck.” Carmy whispers words of encouragement that travel straight to your aching pussy. He groans into the side of his extended arm, but only for a short second, because he can’t dare to take his eyes off you any longer than that.

Each sound he makes pushes your movements faster and each slurp and drag of your tongue makes him groan even deeper, it’s a vicious cycle of obscene sounds that neither of you want to break. Through hooded eyes, he spots your other hand dragging into the inside of your parted thighs and he thinks he might come just from that alone.

With a few more bobs of your head, you pull him out with a soft ‘pop’ and he takes the chance to catch his breath, before leaning down, hooking his hands under your arms and pulling you up to him in one swift motion.

In a second, your feet are up and off the floor and the cold contrast of the tiles on your hot back brings chills over your excited skin. He latches onto your lips in seconds, one hand cradling your cheek while the other wraps tightly around your waist. Your legs circle his hips with strength as he rubs his stiff erection between your thighs.

“You like sucking my cock, huh?” He whispers in a shaky breath while his hips grind incessantly over your slick cunt. “Look how fuckin’ wet you got. You gonna let me take care of you now, baby?”

He pulls his hand from your face and readjusts his arms around your thighs so he has a better grip on you, but doesn’t slip in yet. Instead he drags the length along your folds and watches you whine and squirm with want between his arms.

“Yes, Bear, take care of me please. I need you.” His cock jolts at your words and the neediness behind them is enough teasing for him.

He slips right in, like coming home, and wastes no time in pulling back out to set a rapid pattern that has your breasts bouncing in his face. Carmy buries his mouth by your neck, dragging his teeth down to your chest and back up, leaving crescent shaped bruises that you’ll probably have to cover with makeup tomorrow. Right now though, he doesn’t care, he’s proud of them and how they represent that you’re truly and wholeheartedly his.

“You’re fuck-ing me so good.” A string of mewls falls from your lips at the mixture of sensations and your nails dig firmly into his shoulders to help ground you back.

But Carmy’s hips snap up continuously to a spot he’s learnt you like, making your head fall heavy over his shoulders. You’re gasping for air with each stroke and drag of his cock, unable to regain strength in your neck to look up at his eyes.

“Yeah?” He whispers near your ear, erupting shivers along the skin his breath caresses as he continues railing into you. “And you’re takin’ me like such a good girl.” His movements are too fast for you to keep up with your hips, so all you do is take it, and happily so.

“C’mon baby, come f’me yeah?”

You’re too high to listen to his words, but your body reacts on command as the tension in your navel snaps and a guttural moan rips your throat open. Carmy follows close behind you, groaning into the side of your neck and pressing you impossible closer to his heaving chest.

As the bliss dissipates into tiny waves, you reach up to his clean locks. He answers back with another soft kiss.

“Can we stay like this?” He asks timidly into your skin.

You smile at the sudden softness and reach down to fully turn the water off. “Don’t you wanna finish showering first? or… pull out?”

Carmy answers with a soft ‘no.’. You expect him to let you down so you can both dry yourselves at least, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses you securely to his chest again and makes his way out of the shower.

You squeal and press your thighs hard around his own when he leans down to blow out the candles, one by one, in fear that he may drop you. A relaxed laugh vibrates in his chest and joins your nervous giggle as he manages the task flawlessly.

“See, I got you.” He says with a proud smile- one that crinkles the sides of his eyes and makes him look boyish and carefree- as he carries you to the warm bed.

‘I know you do' You think to yourself all night, wrapped in the safety of his arms.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78 and that's it lmao

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blackreaderfics · 8 months

Text

Hygge | Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Pairing : Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Rating : T

↳ Summary : Nanami breaks his well cultivated routine

↳ W.C : 4.4k

↳ A/N: the voices in my head got me y’all… this is a purely self indulgent fic featuring relatable king Nanami (I, too, do not dream of labor✊🏾) and black girlbossqueen Tiana

↳ Tags + Warnings: xenophobia from a side character, fluff, set in Tokyo, next door neighbors, cultural differences, salaryman x cafe owner, they can speak each other’s languages but not fluently

🎵 A Commuter’s Trip (The Commuter OST) by Roque Baños

🎵 Hello Stranger by KAI

Hygge (n.) | Danish

“the feeling of calm, comfort, and contentment evoked by life’s simple joys”

Nanami had a simple routine. Wake up at 6, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast by 7:45 and be out of the door—at the latest—a minute before 8. He had everything calculated to the T. If Nanami had been a minute too late—let’s say 8:01— he would miss the morning train and therefore be late for work, and he was never late. He had taken into account all contingencies i.e. a train delay, traffic, inclement weather, and made sure he was prepared for any and all possibilities.

That’s why, much to his chagrin, he was “Employee of the Month” every month since he had been promoted from associate to advisor. Most workers would’ve taken pride in that, felt their presence valued at their company. But Nanami didn’t care much for awards or titles, in fact, he just hated working period. He made sure to always clock out at 6 p.m. on the dot. One minute more would be overtime and he didn’t want to give his thankless job a second more of his labor.

When he left work, he always went straight home. When his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, thoughts about the next day would drift into his mind.

Did the market close up or down? What reports did he need to finish? There’s a client meeting coming up; the presentation deck needs to be prepared… Just two more days. Get through two more days and it’s the weekend.

And so on and so on. Wash rinse repeat.

He presumed this endless cycle of corporate monotony would continue until the day he turned 40, after which he could retire and live modestly in a country like Malaysia or the Philippines to catch up on all the reading he missed. Perhaps even find a nice woman and marry her while he was there.

The marriage part was new—an afterthought after years of daydreaming—and he didn’t really think much about the kind of woman he wanted to marry. What she looked like or what she did was more of an amorphous thought, a vague idea in his mind.

Until her.

He met her by accident. Nanami had been cooking, a hobby he only indulged in on the weekends, and he was just in the middle of making a rolled omelet when he heard a loud thump outside his door.

His apartment building was more of an office building which meant that his floor didn’t get much traffic. The people who rented rooms were not really tenants who lived there, but workers looking for an extra workspace. He had assumed the thump to be a delivery man outside his door so, naturally, he was surprised when it wasn’t the post, but a foreigner woman standing outside the room next door.

The woman had a heavy bag of groceries balanced in the crook of her arm and another by her feet that he presumed had been the source of the sound. When they made eye contact, he had been so startled that he quickly closed his door. The apartment next to his had been empty for months, but it looked like it had finally been rented out.

He thought nothing more of it until her very presence began to infiltrate his well-maintained routine. Every morning, if he was quiet enough, he could faintly hear her humming as he got dressed. Other times, he could hear upbeat jazzy music on the weekends if he opened his window.

Every night, he was surrounded by the fragrance of whatever she seemed to be cooking. Most of the time it was sweet, other times it was savory. It wasn’t an unpleasant aroma, just noticeable to the point where its absence would feel strange. There were days when they would leave for work at the same time, though oftentimes he would end up holding the elevator door open for her when she left her apartment a few minutes after he did.

In the brief moments they encountered, Nanami made small observations about her: She was an American. Beautiful. Unmarried—Americans wore rings on their ring finger to signify marital status, he’d noticed she didn’t.

He couldn’t infer her job or what exactly brought her to Tokyo in the first place from her appearance alone, however. He’d seen a fair amount of young foreign teachers in the city. He wondered if she was a teacher. She looked young enough. A missionary? She dressed modestly and wore sensible shoes. Her curly hair was often tied into a low bun. From the very slim list of what young American women did for work in Tokyo, he decided on teacher and his curiosity was sated.

One day he found out. After a long day of work, he walked his usual route from the train station back to his apartment building but was redirected due to construction at his usual subway exit. When he alighted from the escalator he was on a different street entirely. The extra few minutes from this detour would undoubtedly cut into the time he’d set aside to unwind, and subsequently, he’d have to make a few adjustments to still get a full 8 hours of sleep.

He loosened his tie and sighed inwardly as he walked on. Since he’d moved to this district last year he didn’t make much effort to visit any new places. For all he was concerned, he only really needed to know his route to work and the nearest Starbucks.

So when he passed by a small cafe called “Tiana’s Place”, it didn’t immediately click that the jazz he’d heard playing softly from her apartment was the same music that was playing now. It was familiar enough that it gave him pause. Where had he heard that song before? When he finally caught sight of her—his neighbor— through the glass window, it finally registered that she wasn’t a teacher or a missionary, but a cafe worker, and from the looks of it, she owned the place.

He watched her dimples deepen as she interacted with customers, giving each and every one of them a tireless smile. Before he knew it, Nanami found himself inside the cafe whisked into the after-work rush of impatient office workers. She was so busy already, the only indication of strain being a moment when she blew the hair out of her face before the next customer walked up to order. He planned to buy something small and leave; he wanted to give her time to catch her breath but inadvertently in his musings he was already holding up the line.

She was…right in front of him? And speaking to him now? It was the first time he’d heard her voice and he decided it suited her. She spoke in Japanese and, though accented, was clear and practiced enough in a way that impressed him.

“Are you still deciding, sir?” Impossibly large brown eyes waited in expectation for him to order.

He broke out of his reverie quickly enough to make it seem like his stalling was deliberate, his unmarred poker face further upholding the charade.

He scanned the prepackaged foods and retrieved the first thing that looked like bread. “Just this.”

“Good choice,” She looked positively elated as she scanned the barcode and activated the card machine. “Beignets are my specialty.” She was beaming at him. Not in a “thank you come again” customer way but like in a he’d just made her entire week way. She was so laughably easy to please that it discomfited him.

He muttered a “thank you”, taking the package and turning to leave quickly before he met her eyes again. The Fall of Icarus was a cautionary tale for a reason, he wouldn’t risk another trip into the sun.

Nanami’s routine had drastically altered over the next few weeks. Every morning he’d gotten used to riding down the elevator with her. They greeted each other regularly, albeit a bit awkwardly, in the shared space—A slight bow from him as he held the doors open, reciprocated by a grateful wave from her.

The last time they shared an elevator, however, they'd accidentally brushed hands while reaching for the ground floor button. For some reason, that unnerved Nanami. So now, most times, he avoided that, opting to wait and listen to the click of her door before he left the house. For good measure, he started taking the stairs. As a result, Nanami had added an extra 10 minutes to his morning commute.

The detour, having yet to be fixed, took him past the café every day. Though Nanami knew the process of waiting in line would add an extra 15 minutes to his after-work trek, he did so anyway, calculating that picking up a quick dinner bento would be a fair trade to taking the time to cook something for himself.

“What can I get for you today, sir?”

He knew her name now—Tiana, from the name tag she wore, and the sign on the storefront. He noticed from the way her eyes would widen as he approached, that she recognized him now too.

“Black tea. No sugar, please.” He placed his usual prepackaged meal and packet of beignets on the counter, taking out his wallet. Nanami didn’t always plan to add beignets to every order, but he found himself reaching for them every time, dreading her predictable delight when he did. Ordering tea was another stroke of impulse he didn’t account for, but it wasn’t so busy now, he could enjoy it before he went home.

He decided on a table by the window, savoring the warm liquid as the sun set to a melancholy soundtrack of brass and bass. It was like being transported to another time, outside of crowded subway cars and the hustle of his high-powered office.

Nanami closed his eyes and felt something akin to contentment. When he exhaled, the stiffness in his shoulders abated, and the strain behind his eyes subsided. Was this what it was like to finally relax?

He was about to take another sip of his drink when he heard a loud bang. The front door to the restaurant had flown open, a bulky man with greasy hair and a lecherous smile stalking in. Nanami’s eyes trailed after the man’s movements, the cup still raised to his lip.

“I’d like a dozen of those powdered donut things. Ya got any of those?” The man leered at the part-timer manning the counter. He sauntered back and forth at the register, eying the self-serve pastries in the display.

“Sure, would you like them fresh? There aren’t enough ready-made ones for a dozen, but if you’re willing to wait there’s a new batch being made—”

The man picked up a package of beignets that had been warming under a heated case and without warning, ripped open the package and took a bite.

“S-sir! You need to pay for that first!” The part-timer sputtered.

“Well, I’m waitin’ for that new batch. I wanna try before I buy.” The delinquent guffawed and attempted another gleeful bite only for the pastry to be smacked out of his hand and onto the floor.

He whirled around to face Tiana, bursting into laughter upon seeing her. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“Call the police,” Tiana stated calmly to her employee as she stared down the man. Her usual polite smile had been replaced with a stony-faced expression. “Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything then it’s best you leave.”

“Huh? What was that? I can barely understand you, foreign bit-AHh” A pressure on the man’s shoulder made him crumple in pain.

“Your ears must not be working. I can understand her perfectly well,” Nanami murmured, his vice-like grip squeezing at the juncture between the man’s neck and shoulder. While the delinquent whimpered pathetically at the deepening pressure, Nanami directed his attention to Tiana, motioning with a slight tilt of his head for her to step away. “It’s not worth your trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded reluctantly and joined her staff member who was now waiting with a phone at her ear behind the counter.

Nanami appeared to be saying something to the man now, but in a volume that Tiana couldn’t hear. His face was calm, betraying no emotion while the delinquent paled gradually in terror, trembling under his grip. The moment Nanami released him, the man scrambled out of his grasp and prostrated himself on all fours.

“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I PROMISE I WON’T DO IT AGAIN PLEASE—” He shouted hysterically and proceeded to do a fervent bow of penitence.

Tiana looked at Nanami quizzically but was only met with a mild shrug.

“Alright alright,” she stepped around the counter to placate him. If he could just stop snotting up the floor she just mopped and get out of there, they could just forget this all happened.

The tinkling bell sound of the cafe door opening interrupted the scene; everyone’s attention shifted from the blubbering man on the floor to the police officer who had just stepped in.

Before anyone could speak, the man sprang up from the ground and ran toward the policeman. “OFFICER! IT'S ALL MY FAULT I ADMIT IT! ARREST ME, PLEASE! JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Within 10 minutes the offender was cuffed—willingly, to the cop’s surprise— and whisked noisily out of the cafe just as quickly as he’d burst in. Nanami, suddenly uninterested in the commotion, walked calmly back to his table and gathered his things.

Tiana made her way over to Nanami, eyeing the man through the window. He was currently being escorted to a police car on the curb. Still in hysterics, he’d practically thrown himself into the back of the car.

“Ok…what on earth did you say to that man?” She quirked an eyebrow at the blonde businessman.

That this cafe is his one and only oasis in the heaping pile of shit called life, and if even so much as one insignificant waste of air like him tries to ruin it he’ll have no choice but to chop his fingers off one by one and shove them down his throat so hard he’ll be shitting fingernails for weeks…among other things.

It would’ve been improper to divulge this to Tiana, of course.

“I asked him to apologize,” he said instead in simple English, a far cry from the eloquently horrific threats he’d made in his native language.

“Really?” She asked, accepting the sudden change of language in stride. Her arms were crossed, her hip jutted to the side, face incredulous. “Just like that?”

“I’m rather persuasive.”

After a beat she laughed.

Nanami didn’t consider himself a funny person. And frankly, he didn’t understand why she was laughing now but he welcomed it, if only to see that the earlier disturbance hadn’t caused her too much distress.

“Well, thank you kindly,” she drawled in between giggles, her southern accent now unmistakable when she switched to English. “Mister…”

“Kento.” He offered his first name, aware he was skipping over several customary stages of familiarity. In any other case, anyone less than an acquaintance addressing him by his first name would be extremely frowned upon. But it was common business practice to use given names when dealing with American clients; he thought it fitting to do the same with her.

He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a silver business card holder, and passed over an impressive looking card:

Nanami Kento, Investment Advisor

“If there are any similar issues please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He repeated an English phrase that had come in handy from past business dealings.

“Mr. Kento,” she repeated to herself with finality studying the card. Tiana faintly wondered why a guy with a fancy title—and the most expensive suits she’d ever laid eyes on— lived in the modest one-room apartment right next to hers. She pocketed the card and patted around for her own business card.

“I would’ve given you my own card too. But if you ever need to contact me—”

“Boss!” Her part-timer called out, waving her over from where she stood next to a police officer holding a clipboard.

“I’d better go, you know where to find me.” She excused herself with an apologetic smile.

Unfortunately for Nanami, this little ordeal had cost him another hour of wasted time.

The next day Nanami waited for the familiar click of her door shutting before starting his commute. When he exited his apartment, he could still see the silhouette of her back walking towards the elevator bank.

She left without an umbrella, he noted to himself as he walked part of the way down the hallway. He imagined walking up to her and bringing it up casually as they waited for the elevator. But as soon as she’d turned his direction he changed course abruptly, legs moving on their own through the emergency exit and down the stairs.

Work went on as usual. He sat at his desk going over the pitch deck, but his eyes could not seem to follow the text. Instead, he found himself gazing out the window, watching the clouds slowly darken in the horizon.

“Fucking weather, right? News said it’s gonna rain like a bitch the next few days.”

His boss had walked up behind him, crouching at his eye level to see what Nanami was looking at.

“Hope you brought your galoshes, rookie, we’re going overtime today for that big client meeting. Dinner’s on me.” His boss clapped a hand on his shoulder and went off to bother a different team.

He tried to return his attention to his work, but he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the blue light of his computer screen. All he could think about was the rain.

Tiana had hoped that by the time she closed, the rain would’ve stopped. But she found herself outside the doors of the cafe, reluctant to leave. The rain hadn’t let up, and it didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon.

It was a day of disappointments. On top of forgetting her umbrella, Nanami hadn’t come into the shop that day. She’d gotten used to seeing him enter the store at the same time every day, and perhaps even looked forward to it.

She took one tentative step outside, shivering through the draft of wind. She didn’t live far, maybe it would be alright if she just ran home with a plastic bag over her head. Tiana locked the door behind her and raised the collar of her jacket, clasping it with her hand to protect her neck. On the count of three, she lifted the plastic takeout bag over her head and took the plunge.

After a few strides in the pelting rain, it suddenly stopped—She had run into something or someone. The rain made it difficult to see where she was going so she blindly sputtered a reflexive “I’m so sorry!” in English at whoever it was that she had run into.

When she wiped the rain out of her eyes she could see nothing but an impeccably tailored pinstripe suit in the dim of the streetlights. It was Nanami and he was holding an umbrella over her head. His collar was unbuttoned without a tie, and he looked utterly exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced from where she stood underneath him.

“Mr. Kento? Are you alright? What are you—”

“I figured you could use an umbrella,” he said dryly and pretty pointedly at her makeshift plastic bag hat.

“Yea, I guess I could use one of those,” she laughed breathlessly and took the bag off her head, before giving him one of those heart-stopping smiles he loathed. “You saved my life.*”

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, amused. Perhaps because her choice of words sounded highly literal, almost…cute?, in Japanese. He “saved her life” just by sharing his umbrella? Americans were known to have a penchant for the dramatic. But he didn’t bother to correct her, instead, he only hummed somewhat of an affirmative response.

They walked in a comfortable silence down a familiar tree-lined path leading to their apartment building. She noticed Nanami’s shoulder getting wet, and leaned closer to him.

Feeling the imperceptible shift, he gave the woman beside him a sidelong glance. His eyes settled on the loose wisp of hair he’d always seen her blowing out of her face.

It bothered him.

Maybe it was the fatigue-driven delirium, but he was struck with the inane compulsion to brush that lock out of her eyes. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the umbrella currently occupying his hand, otherwise, he would’ve indulged it.

Tiana reached over and gently adjusted the umbrella closer over his side. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that nice suit of yours,” she said softly.

“I hate this suit.” The curt statement came off a bit more brusque than he’d initially intended, though, it was true. He hated that suit and everything it represented.

She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was another aspect of his humor. But from what she could see on his countenance, he was entirely serious.

He glanced at her again, catching the confused look on her face. “I don’t mind if it gets wet,” he reiterated this time with the intended lack of severity, along with a kind of finality that implied an end to the discussion of his suit and his decision to prioritize her dryness. They continued the rest of the way, the umbrella above them biased towards her side.

When they got to the apartment he held the building door open, letting her walk through first.

“Thank you again for yesterday. That man, he was—” she paused to conjure the correct word.

“He was being a nuisance,” he completed, pushing the button for the elevator door. Naturally, he had chosen the same number for their floors, and when they arrived at their floor he waited for her to alight before walking after her.

When they finally reached their neighboring doors, he set his umbrella on the hallway floor for it to dry and began to punch in the code for his door.

“Mr. Kento, wait a moment.”

He stilled his movement and watched as she rummaged into her purse.

Tiana pulled out a paper box from her bag and presented it to him, “I was going to give these to you earlier if you came in. Glad they didn’t get wet.”

It was a small gesture. Even so, he was reluctant to take it.

“You… didn’t have to,” he frowned, eyeing the box.

“You didn’t have to walk me home, either,” she shrugged.

“We’re neighbors. We were going in the same direction,” he said plainly, though, he didn’t entirely believe the words as they left his mouth either. It was unlike him to go anywhere else except straight home after working overtime. He hadn’t run into her by some coincidence or divine guidance. He’d gone there on purpose, and he had a sinking feeling she figured that out already too.

“Then just think of it as a ‘thank you gift’,” she insisted, tugging gently at his wrist and nudging the box softly into his hands. “For being my favorite customer.”

He shifted uncomfortably to receive the box with both hands. It was an unfamiliar concept for him to be anyone’s favorite anything.

“Good night, Mr. Kento.” Tiana’s voice had an amused lilt to it. Nanami must’ve stood there frozen because she was already halfway through her door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He regained his composure and mumbled back a formal “Good night, Miss. Tiana,” —her name a bit alien on his tongue—before retreating back inside.

When the door shut behind him, he immediately shed his suit jacket. His body was much too warm despite one side being wet; his collar much too tight, despite his lack of tie.

Nanami stared at the assortment of pastries that Tiana had given to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he willingly ate dessert though he assumed if he had, it would’ve probably been with Gojo and his infantile palate.

Truthfully, Nanami didn’t really like sweets at all. The first time he bought those beignets, he’d just picked up the first thing in line that day and just…never stopped buying it. Over the past weeks, he’d amassed a bevy of unopened bags of the foreign confection and they were occupying the much-needed counter space of his kitchen.

It was rather ironic for an investment advisor to be so frivolous with his money. Spending on foods he didn’t even eat when was supposed to be saving it didn’t make any sort of financial sense. He had been planning to retire by 40, and now he’d have to add an extra 5 years to his projections over mere fried dough.

Nanami turned over the yellow business card for “Tiana’s Place” that he had found wedged in the box. A simple “Bon Appétit ;) -T.” was written on the back.

He picked up a beignet from the box and took a bite—It was made for him, after all. He chewed it slowly, the consistency not too far off from that of a baguette. It wasn’t too sweet, either. In fact, it was…delicious? Better than any dessert he’s had before. Maybe everything he’d tried before this was just a crude imitation, a poor excuse for the craft of baking.

Perhaps he did like sweets or even dessert right before bed. Maybe he didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t be getting his full 8 hours of sleep. If he concentrated hard enough, her faint humming as she got ready for bed filled the silence of his apartment. He could stay up even longer if at all possible.

When he finally closed his eyes, a rush of different kinds of thoughts flooded his mind.

Some were more mundane: Maybe I’ll have a beignet for breakfast or It’s probably going to rain tomorrow.

Some were imaginations: plump glossy lips curved in an oversweet smile meant solely for him. His fingers gently tucking that bothersome tendril of hair behind her ear.

He finally drifted to sleep with one last thought just as simple as the others, a tiny hope that she would forget her umbrella again.

*A/N: Tiana’s words sound like a literal translation/unnatural because she’s a non-native speaker ex. “you saved my life” vs a more natural/colloquial “you’re a lifesaver”

#brfwrites #tianami #nanami x tiana #jjk x disney #idk yall lmao #walk with me #I’m just glad it’s finally out of my head #x black reader #black reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento fanfic #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic #jjk fluff

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imababblekat · 1 year

Text

Not A Webs Chance

Prompt: The boys are at it again in guessing who the mysterious, friendly neighborhood Spider Hero of New York could be. With a joking comment, the minds of each ninja begin to wonder if it is perhaps you under the mask!”

Notes:

(s/p) = spider persona name)

~xXx~ “All I’m saying is it’s kind of nice to have some of the heat off our shells for once.”, Leo defended, raising his arms from the back of the couch. The leader terrapin and his brothers sat in April’s and yours shared living room, the small old square tv in the center casting the news of events from a few hours prior. The headline “Super Market Robbery Put To A Quick Halt” streamed across the bottom of a recorded video of New Yorkers friendly (s/p) swinging off screen. “I miss kicking bad guy butt, but you do have a point bro.”, Mikey agreed, finishing off another pizza slice. “When’s the last time we got to finish a whole pizza in one sitting?!” “You mean all of us or just you? Cuz I can tell ya the answer to that real quick.”, Raph jested, his younger brother ignoring him in favor of grabbing another slice. Shaking off a slice offered by Donnie, Leo cheekily smirked at Raph. “You’re still just mad at the fact they totally whipped your behind when we first met.” Raph, grumbling, jabbed a digit towards the his brother. “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly see ya win the fight either. In fact, if I remember correctly they had ya danglin’ by Mikey’s nun-chucks.” With a dreamy sigh, ignoring the heat rising between both brothers, Mikey spoke through a mouth full of cheese. “That was so hot how they did it, too~.” Finishing his own slice and returning to a gadget in hand, Donnie let out a light chuckle. “You say that but you don’t even know them.” “Don’t you know actions speak louder than words?!”, Mikey swooned across Leo’s lap, the later shoving him of with an eye roll. “Besides, I already know who they are anyways.” At this, all turtles stopped what they were doing, sharply turning to the youngest with curiosity brimming in their eyes. Was this it? Were the boys finally going to find out who the mystery person behind the mask was after all this time of fighting crime side by side? “You saw their face?!”, all boys shouted in unison, leaning in towards the orange bandanna turtle. With a big smile, and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, Mikey replied. “Nope!” All brothers deadpanned, but before any could retort back, Mikey continued. “Don’t need to. I finally figured out who they are.” Leo chuckled incredulously, sitting back once more. “We already went over this Mikey. It’s not April.” “Or Master Shredder.”, came Donnie’s chime in. “Or that one guy runnin around’n a rat costume.”, added Raph. Mikey shook his head with a mildly irritated groan at his brothers mentions of his past theories to (s/p)’s true identity. “Just hear me out! I know I’ve got it this time!” Each ninja turtle listened doubtfully but motioned for Mikey to go on. “It’s clearly the cute delivery person. Why else would they leave me an extra slice of triple cheese, deluxe pepperoni?”, he smiled wide, making a mind blowing motion with his hands. “Uhm, because they didn’t want to waste any food at the end of the night? You’d be surprised how much humans throw out at closing.”, Donnie expressed knowledgeably. Falling back defeatedly into the sofa with crossed arms, Mikey huffed. “Well since you’re such a genius, who do you think it is, Don?” Donnie thought for a moment, adjusting his glasses. “The odds of us guessing who it is, or if we even know the person in such a heavily populated city is statistically extremely low.” Mikey rolled his head back with a loud groan and Leo laughed. “Come on, Don. You gotta guess someone. Anyone.” Donnie’s face scrunched up as he truly tried, Leo and Mikey throwing out more theories on who they thought the mystery person could be. Slightly frustrated, the leaner brother nodded his head towards Raphael. “Why don’t you guys ask Raph? He always seems to have something smart to say.” Playing with the toothpick between his teeth, Raph chuckled before throwing a thumb back to the kitchen. “Obviously, it’s that dork.” All eyes turned towards the human in the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon rolls in the oven wafting around them. Even though Raphael had been 100% joking around, the cogs in each of the four brothers brains began to turn as they gazed at none other than you. You, who stood in the kitchen with disheveled hair and wrinkly pajamas after waking from what was supposed to be a thirty minute nap turned six, were the only person neither of the ninja brothers had ever thought to consider. However, now watching as you carefully studied an oven mitt, they started to notice things they hadn’t before. You were about the right height and size as (s/p). Thinking back to certain moments, the brothers also realized how some of the things you both would say sounded similar. Heck, in some sense, even your voices sounded somewhat the same. It also seemed to be quite the coincidence that whenever their spidery friend swung off after defeating some baddies, you would show up moments later. Could it be? Could you truly be the person that occupied the ninja turtles minds with your spectacular crime fighting powers and personality?! Just as lightbulbs in the brothers minds were about to go off, they had all witnessed you toss the oven mitt in the air and try to, very unsuccessfully, karate jab your hand into said mitt, only for it to fall splat to the tiled floor. “Eeeyeeeeah, scratch that. I like Mikey’s rat costume guy betta.”, Raph spoke turning back around with his brothers. “Oh come on! You’re never gonna let that go, huh?!”, Mikey exasperated as another round of argumentative theories sprung up between the four. Too lost in each others reasonings for why or why not (s/p) could be this or that person, the four brothers missed you accidentally webbing your oven mitt to the ceiling in a re-attempt at earliers action, a panicked look quickly finding place on your face as you rushed to get it free.

~xXx~

#bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse michelangelo x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #aged up tmnt #tmnt spiderman au #spiderman reader #imababblekat’s writing

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