#because breakfast would make me nauseous
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“You’re my boyfriend, Zayne, not my doctor.”
You huff as he shakes out a multivitamin gummy into the palm of his hand to join the rest of your pills that you had been forgetting —neglecting— to take.
“Is it not a boyfriend’s duty to look after his girlfriend’s health? If so, I have no problem ending this relationship to reinstate you as my patient.” His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you huff again, this time louder than the last, and thrust your hand out so he can drop the pills and gummies into it. “Smart choice.”
He slides you a prepared glass of water, the condensation leaving a wet streak across the counter, and he wipes it up with a paper towel. Your fingers close around the glass as you go to take the first pill, only for his voice to make you freeze.
“Have you eaten breakfast yet? Taking those on an empty stomach will make you nauseous.” He’s moving towards the pantry before you can even answer.
You blink at his back as your thumb idly rubs at the white pill. “It will? Hm…” Maybe that’s why you had felt violently ill every time you took your medicine - you were a chronic breakfast-skipper. “No, I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Does homemade pancakes, eggs, and sausages sound fine to you?” Your mouth waters at the thought, and your stomach voices its approval with a low growl. “I’ll take as a yes.” His voice is amused as he turns his head to look at you over his shoulder, and you shoot a bashful smile his way before placing your pills a bit to the side so they’re out of the way.
“Do you even have time to make all that? You have a surgery this afternoon, don’t you?” A sudden wave of guilt comes crashing over you, and your eyebrows pull together as you watch him grab all the ingredients. Zayne took care of people at work all day, and nearly everyday, and now here he was taking care of you in the small slot of time he had to relax before being thrust back into work, and all because you’re adverse to taking a few pills.
“There’s plenty of time left before I have to head in and start preparing. Don’t worry.” He assures, and you prop your chin up on your fist with a quiet sigh, knowing it’s no use trying to convince him of anything different.
He works quickly yet efficiently as he prepares everything, his gaze drifting over to you every so often. Soon enough, your apartment is filled with the scent of a delicious smelling breakfast and a plate filled with food is being placed down in front of you along with a fork.
Zayne props his forearms on the marble of the island you’re sat at and nods towards your food. “Eat.”
“A please would be nice.”
“A thank you would be nice.”
“A kiss would be nice.”
“Would it?” A smile tugs at his lips, and you nod with a hum as you pick up your fork. “I think so, too. Perhaps I’ll give you one once your plate is empty and those pills are gone.”
“Pinky promise?” You hold your pinky out to him, and he gives a soft shake of his hair, black hair swishing as he lets out a soft chuckle and twines his finger with yours.
“You’re such a child sometimes.”
“I keep you young.” You cut off a section of your pancakes and stuff it into your mouth, the sweet taste of the syrup coating your tastebuds and making you sigh. “An yawt.” You say around a mouthful of food, and he raises a brow as he moves your glass of water closer to you, but not before using his evol to make it ice cold.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full - you’ll choke.”
You swallow before speaking, fork already moving to gather another bite.
“So? You’re a doctor, you can just give me the heimlich.” It’s his turn to sigh.
“Just eat your food.”
#zayne x reader#love and deep space x reader#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#zayne ilu <3 and imy <3 come home
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Jealous
It had been eating at him. Consuming his every thought. Keeping him up and weighing him down with guilt. The shame was literally making him nauseous. He had to say something. He had to confess.
"I think I'm homophobic," James muttered into the still morning air, knowing that his friends would hear.
Sirius's pale hand curled around the curtains of Remus's bed, revealing both of their shocked faces. "Erm...what?" Sirius asked, sitting up and pulling Remus up with him.
"I...I think I'm homophobic," James repeated, looking down with embarrassment. Gods, how had this happened?
"Mate..." Remus started, gesturing at himself and Sirius, "....are you....what?"
"No, I know," James agreed, nodding. He had no problem with Remus and Sirius and their obnoxiously physical relationship. In fact, he thought they were cute! It was sweet, to see them so happy.
But Regulus on the other hand..."It's just...I see them kissing and I want to throw up," he murmured, half to himself.
Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance, looking worried, and James' heart sank. He was horrible. Terrible.
"Erm. Them, who?" Peter piped up from his own bed.
"R-Regulus. And the bloke he's with," James admitted, dropping his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Sirius, I'm horrible, I don't know what's wrong with me, I-"
But Remus interrupted, looking thoughtful. "Let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You don't mind seeing Sirius and I kiss?"
"Of course not!" James exclaimed, throwing his hands up exasperatedly. "You're my best friends! I think it's just people I don't know well, maybe? Or-"
"But when it's Regulus, you get upset?" Remus continued, a smile spreading across his face.
"Yes! Yes, I want to- to punch something, it's-"
"What about McKinnon and Meadowes?" Sirius asked, a peculiar expression spreading on his own face. Like he'd been hit over the head with a hammer.
James contemplated that. "No...no, that's..." A horrifying thought occurred to him. "D'you think I just hate gay boys? Oh, Merlin, d'you think I'm like...sexualizing lesbians?"
"You're an idiot," Sirius replied, rolling his eyes and laying back on the bed. "Actually, you're more than an idiot. Gods, how the hell d'you even have a crush on Reggie?"
"I don't have a crush-" James started arguing after stunned silence, but cut himself off as he began to think about it.
And oh.
It made much more sense.
He was jealous.
"Sorted, then?" Peter asked, getting up from his bed. "Because I want breakfast."
#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#marauders fandom#harry potter marauders#the marauders#the marauders fandom#the marauders era#james#james fleamont potter#james potter#james x regulus#james potter/regulus black#james potter x regulus black#jealous james potter#james & sirius#james is an idiot#james and sirius#sirius black x remus lupin#remus x sirius#sirius x remus#sirius orion black#sirius being sirius#sirius black#fanfic#james and regulus#regulus arcturus black#regulus black#james loves regulus#regulus deserved better
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Smitten (part 2 for ‘Everything Shower’)
Pairing : Charles leclerc x reader
Theme : Fluff
Feel free to slide in my inbox. I’m always open to talk about any ideas you would want to see in my upcoming fics!
Charles groaned as you pulled the drapes to the side, allowing the sun to illuminate the room.
“Morning, baby!” Your mood was clearly not on the same level with your boyfriend because he still had his eyes closed but his arm was stretched out when he sensed you walking closer to his side of the bed.
“For a second I forgot what happened to my image.” He scooted a little bit so you could sit by his side and started stroking on his cheek.
He looked so beautiful, even more beautiful with the morning sunlight. The way his eyelashes lined up along the ends of his eyelids, the way his mouth was slightly ajar as he breathed out. He wasn’t asleep anymore and you knew it from his grasp around you waist.
“Your lover boy image? Are you embarrassed that they found out you were obsessed with your own girlfriend?”
“No, I am the proudest boyfriend ever but I can’t stand them teasing me. Daniel would be attending this race too. As if things couldn’t get any worse.” He grumbled before you caught his arms and pulled him up to sit.
“Get up, bubs. It’s time for you to get ready.”
His arms found the way back to your waist again and he started planting kisses from your neck, up to your jawline and ended the train of kisses on your nose. “But I’m not done spending time with you yet. Care to join me for breakfast together?”
You weren’t a breakfast kind of girl because you would always feel nauseous if you eat something heavy in the morning and Charles knew it too. But you knew he had asked you just so that you two could pass time together before he spent the rest of the day in the pit today.
“Sure, let me get ready first.” You left a peck on his cheek before getting up to leave to the bathroom.
“Baby, count me in too.” Charles threw the duvet away from covering his half naked body and followed your steps. You couldn’t even brush your teeth alone.
kymillman
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kymillman Charles Leclerc arrived at the paddock. Not sure what happened but the crowds went wild!
username it’s the lover boy
username he looked completely different compare to y/n video
username bcs he’s with his gf in private you have never been in love bud?
username tough days ahead for him 🤭
﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎
After what happened at Silverstone Grand Prix, you just continued with your life as if you weren’t the one behind all those teasings he had to face during the weekend. Well, there was nothing wrong. It wasn’t like you aired your boyfriend’s dirty laundry.
Charles had told you that he kinda liked it because it kinda gave him a reason to mention you in interviews but he refused to admit the clingy part.
“Bubs, you are the clingy one.”
Charles firmly shook his head. “No, I’m not. I didn’t see you for 2 weeks so it was a moment of weakness.”
“So you are saying it won’t happen again? You won’t hug me like you usually do while I’m prepping my skin?” He had his hand under your oversized shirt as you leaned on his chest and you felt his thumb abruptly stopped from stroking the skin of your belly which caused you to giggle. You knew he liked clinging on you whenever you finished your shower. He liked the scent of your vanilla scent from your hair shampoo, the sweet fruity scent from your moisturizer. It was just accidentally being recorded in the tiktok because you were just trying to make a video, not because you tried to expose him.
He was quite and you could sense he was thinking hard, analysing every single consequences for every answer. “I can’t hug my girlfriend?”
“You just said it was a moment of weakness.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You said, it was a moment if weakness.”
﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎
You turned on your phone and propped it against the box of cotton pads. A few skincare products were placed in front of it, careful not to cover the camera. Once everything was set up, only then you turned off the shower. You knew Charles would come in when he no longer heard the water flowing and you wouldn’t have enough time to set up your phone if you did it by then.
You had just washed your face when you heard a soft knock and a muffled voice coming from the outside.
“Baby, are you recording a video again?”
“No, why?”
Charles didn’t reply but you heard a faint creaking sound from the door being opened. “Nothing, I was just asking.” Your ‘not clingy’ boyfriend is now in the bathroom with you for no absolute reason. He didn’t go straight to embrace you as he usually did because you were glaring at him ever since he stepped in.
“I just wanted to check on my girlfriend….” It was as if he had read your mind before you could asked him, what are you doing here.
You continued with your skincare, serum, niacinamide, retinol all sorts of things while occasionally still glaring at him and your boyfriend was just there, staring at your reflection while touching all sort of products you had in front of you, itching to hold you like he always did but if it wasn’t the consequences of his own words. You knew he didn’t missed your look, he was just ignoring it.
“Oh? This is a new one. I have never seen this before.” Your boyfriend looked like a curious kid who just happened to find something new that was worth his attention. Charles stood up straight and took the product that caught his attention. “Chérie, what’s this? Looks like the one you always put on every time we go out.”
“That’s my lash serum, Charles.”
“Wow, you have serum for your lash too? How do you put it on?”
You took the product from his hand and twisted the cap to pull it open. “You put it on like how you always see me put on my mascara.”
“Put it on me.” He scooted his way in front of you, blocking you from seeing your reflection in the mirror and now the camera could only see his back that was leaned against the cabinet. Charles finally held you as he pulled you closer by your waist, making you stand as close as he could in between his legs.
“You can put it on yourself.”
“No, I don’t know how. You do it.”
“Such a baby.” You rolled your eyes and placed your hand on the side of his neck as the other one started carefully stroke the brushes on his long lashes. “You know, you really don’t need to put this one you already have long—“
“Ouch, that went into my eyes. It stings, baby!” Charles suddenly flinched and turned his head away. You immediately put the serum aside and tried to stepped away so you could do something, anything.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Wash it off. Come here, I’ll help you.”
“No.” He closed off his legs before you could move any further and you could feel his grip on your waist went tighter.
“What—“
Before you could finish your sentence, he slanted his body against you and hides his face in the creek of your neck.
“I just want to hold my girlfriend…can you stop glaring at me…please?”
And he didn’t say anything else. All you could hear after was just the sound of his breathing and warm breath against your skin.
“You scared me! Is this your moment of weakness again?” You stifled a giggle as you bring your hand on his fluffy hair and stroked it.
He hummed in response. He couldn’t pull you closer because you were practically latched on his body now. There wasn’t even an inch of space in between your bodies.
“No, I’m just smitten with love.”
ynusername
Liked by charles_leclerc, and 446,376 others
ynusername date night with my cuddly bby 🤎
username you are a saviour keep on feeding us the content
username we live for more content for boyfriend charles
danielricciardo I got goosebumps thinking about the video
landonorris Yeah, that’s a no from me
username CUTIES 🥰🥹
#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 imagines#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc imagines#f1 x reader
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Bed Sheets
Lee Know x roommate afab!reader
A/N: This is the longest fic I've made to this day, so I hope you guys like it. I was supposed to finish it yesterday, but I fell asleep... If you want to be added to my taglist please comment under this post! I hope you guys liked this because it was really fun to write!! I really hope you guys like it!!!!!!
CW: Kinda Perv!Lee Know/big dick Lee Know, but the reader is also kind of pervy. One bed trope! Having to cuddle for warmth trope! Unprotected sex (please don't for your own safety), Lee Know calls reader kitten, cum eating. (idk what else)
WC: 2.6k
It was the dead of winter, snow was falling making the ground look like it was covered in a blanket. It was currently 11 at night, and you had just done your entire nighttime skincare routine. The lotion soaked into your face when your roommate’s cat, Soonie, strutted into your room like he did every night. Purring as he wrapped around your legs and brushed himself against you. You felt like that was your cue to finally put your bed sheets on, ready to curl up with a good book on your silk bedsheets after taking an everything shower.
“Lee Minho get your ass in here!” you yelled across your shared apartment. As soon as you placed them down, Soonie threw up all over your sheets. “What?” he walked up to your room, leaning his body on the frame. “Look at what your son did to my bed sheets” You looked at him with a face of disgust, but not anger.
“What do you mean my son? Last time I checked you told me Soonie is yours and laughed when he slept in your room at night instead of mine.” He looked at you with his signature stoic face.
“But that was before he barfed all over my only sheets,” you whined “Please just clean it up already, you know just the thought of someone vomiting makes me nauseous.”
“Fine,” he said with a sigh, getting some paper towels from the kitchen. “Where are you going to sleep now though? You only have one set of sheets and I know you don’t want to sleep on the… couch” his face ridden with disgust.
It wasn’t like the couch was that bad of a place, but when you walked into Jisung fucking a girl on it you vowed to never sit on the couch or be in a 5-foot radius without having to take a shower after. You guys even offered Jisung to take the couch but he said how you guys “now have a little piece of him.” You kicked him out of your apartment after he said that and did not let him come back without cheesecake and a horror movie marathon as a way to apologize.
“I would rather sleep in Soonie’s vomit than on that couch,” you said with a deadpan face. “Suit yourself,” he replied, already ready to leave your room without cleaning up Soonies… incident.
“Wait! Come back Minho,” you yelled, “please just clean this up for me. I’ll make you breakfast in bed” you pleaded. He was still walking away, about to go back to his room when you offered something he could not resist. “I’ll buy you pudding for the rest of the month.”
Now that got his attention, he came scurrying back to your room ready to clean your room. “You have a deal, now please get out of my way. The faster I finish this, the faster I can find what places sell the most expensive pudding” he said with a grin.
After he cleaned up Soonie’s mess he came back into your room seeing you on the floor reading your book. “Are you going to sleep on the floor tonight?” he asked knowing if you did you were going to complain about your back all of tomorrow. “I guess that’s what I have to do because I have no sheets to cover the wet spot on my mattress,” you groaned getting ready for the most uncomfortable sleep of your life.
“You can always sleep on my bed if you want”
“Really? The Lee Minho will let me sleep on his bed? Did hell freeze over? Are you sick?” you questioned. “If you wanna sleep on the floor be my guest.” He shrugged turning out of your room. “Wait!” you ran up to him giving him a bear hug from the backside, “I never said no.”
He chuckled at your response, “Go to bed, I’m gonna finish cleaning this up.”
Even though you are Lee Know have been roommates for years, you’ve only been in his room a couple of times. Almost all of them were to wake him up or ask him a question when he wasn’t in the living room. You took everything in as you stepped into his room. Lee Know was a minimalist, not having much in his room other than his desk, bed, dresser, nightstand, and a cat tree for Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. You didn’t really expect much from his room. He had a few pictures of him with you, Jisung, and the rest of his friends.
“y/n, are you done snooping through my room because I’m tired,” he said to you while taking off his slippers. “Calm down grumpy pants, I’m just assessing what’s going to be my sleeping position, I don’t know what side of your room I like better yet. Don’t you want me to wake up happy enough to make you a delicious plate of breakfast in bed?” you pouted at him.
“Just get on the damn bed” he grunted at you. You finally got into his bed, his comforter was so nice and cozy, but it was weird having a huge warm body next to you. You finally fell asleep after 30 minutes of tossing and turning.
You woke up to your body shivering, for some reason, the room was so cold. You turned to see Lee Know also shivering, his body shaking with each breath he took. You shook him awake “Lee Know, please wake up it’s so cold” you whimpered, regretting wearing shorts in the winter. “Fuck, why is it so cold?” he asked you finally realizing how the room felt like it was below freezing. He opened his phone to see a text from your landlord. “The power went out due to the snow and the backup generator isn’t working. That means the heat isn’t working either.” You could hear a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “How are we supposed to keep warm then?” you whined to him. Your body was getting colder by the second and your teeth began to chatter.
“We could cuddle?” he suggested a bit giggle in his voice. You and Minho cuddle all the time, especially during movie nights on the couch. This was the first time he ever asked you to do it on his bed, but dire times are dire times, so it wasn’t a terrible suggestion. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, and he did the same, making you guys feel like a ball.
Even after fifteen minutes of trying to combine heat by cuddling, you were still freezing. Your teeth began chattering again and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Minho, is there anything else we could do, I’m still freezing.”
“There is one more thing we can do, but I don’t think you will like it” he sighed. He was afraid you were going to think he was perverted for even suggesting it. “Please anything, I don’t care what it is, but if I don’t get even a bit warmer in the next 10 minutes I might just turn into an icicle.”
He laughed at you, you were so cute when you were angry. “We could combine body heat,” he said affirmatively. “What do you mean, we are already oh…” you replied. “We can do that, but you're getting naked first, I don’t want to be the only one naked” you giggled.
“Yah! What do you mean naked?” he asked with a concerned face, “We are still wearing our underwear silly.” He pressed your forehead with his finger. “Obviously, you really thought I was going to get butt naked?” you asked him giggling at his assumption.
“No, that’s not what I thought, I thought you thought that.” He kept rambling until you stopped him. “Please can you just take off your clothes, I’m going to die from hypothermia or whatever it is.”
He sighed, taking off his shirt and pants as you did the same. You couldn’t see much in the dark of the night, but you forgot how broad his shoulders were. You sometimes forget how beautiful Minho was because he constantly pestered you. “Are you done staring at me?” he asked. You looked at him gobsmacked “I am not staring! Plus you can not even see my eyes, mister. Now get to cuddling.” you said with the most assertive voice you could muster. You were thanking god that he couldn’t see the blush that was riddled on your cheeks, and the same went for him.
The last time he saw you naked was by accident. You were in your room changing and he opened the door without knowing. Somehow you didn’t notice or hear him, but he saw you. You were wearing a lace bralette and cute white panties with a pink bow on it. He just stared in awe and quickly turned into his room to take a cold shower, which didn’t help, at all. That was engraved in his mind for months, and he would feel guilty every time he jerked off to the thought of you, on your knees taking you in his mouth, or him pulling aside your cute little underwear and fucking you til all you knew was his name. He would never admit this out loud, but he was obsessed with you. He just didn’t have the balls to tell you.
You finally wrapped yourself around him again, feeling his entire body pressed into yours. Finally feeling warm and at peace, you fell asleep in his arms. Minho, on the other hand, couldn’t fall asleep. The feeling of your body pressed against his was something he could only imagine in his wildest fantasies. It was taking everything out of him to not just rut his hardening cock into you. He tried and tried to fall asleep, that was until he could feel your pussy grinding straight onto his cock, moaning his name.
“Fuck kitten, don’t do that to me” he moaned. You slowly woke up to hear his moan, rubbing your eyes awake. “Minho?” you asked with such innocence in your voice he felt like he could cum right there and then. “Kitten, go back to sleep, nothing happened.”
“I can’t, I’m so wet, just for you” you pleaded, he could see your doe eyes pleading even through the dark. “Fuck,” he replied.
Little did he know, you purposely pretended you were sleeping. Him liking you was no surprise to you. You knew that he saw you in your underwear and you knew he had been jerking off to you. You heard him when you came home early one day. The image of him moaning your name while cumming all over himself was engraved in your mind. You would fuck yourself on your vibrator thinking of him. You were waiting for the perfect opportunity, and you were finally given one.
You slowly palmed his dick through his boxers. “Don’t start something you can’t finish kitten” he grabbed your hand. “But I want it so bad” you whimpered into his ear kissing it and then his lips slowly. He couldn’t take it anymore. He flipped himself on top of you, kissing your neck. “You wanted this didn’t you?” trailing his kisses down your neck to your chest biting along as he went. “Fuck, I wanted it so bad” you moaned into his ear. “Wanted this for so long you have no idea.”
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered into your ear before pulling your bralette down and sucking on your nipple. You could feel his erection on your thigh. It was throbbing and you needed to feel it inside of you. “Please, need it in me Minho,” you whispered. He waited for you to say those words for the last two years.
“Fuck kitten, I need you around me, but I gotta stretch you out first.” He slowly pulled down your panties, removing them and putting them in his nightstand drawer for later. Slowly putting one finger into your soaking cunt. “So good Minho, so good sir.” He moaned in response. “Can’t believe one finger is enough for your cunt to squeeze around my finger like this. You are gonna let me add a second one, let me stretch you out to get ready for my cock aren’t you?”
“Yes sir, going to be so good for you, going to let you fuck me with your big cock. Please, sir, give me another finger, I need you, need to cum around your fingers.” you pleaded.
“Awe, does kitten need another finger, I’ll give you another finger.” he slowly added another one, and to give you more stimulation he ran his tongue against your clit. “Fuck!” you yelled and started yanking on his hair. “Fuck, this pussy is sweeter than any pudding I’ve ever eaten. You are going to let me eat it any time I want, right kitten?” he moaned against your clit. That’s all you needed to cum. Your body shaking feeling his fingers hit that spongey spot inside you over and over again.
He slowly took his cock out of his boxers, stroking it. It was the biggest you think you have ever had, but also the prettiest. It wasn’t too thick, but it was long. You didn’t know how you would be able to take it inside of you. “Don’t worry y/n it will fit, you are going to take my cock so well aren’t you?”
“Yes sir, going to take it so well” you whined wanting to feel it inside you. He was going back to his nightstand drawer when you reached out your hand to stop him. “Please give it to me raw, I’m on birth control and I’m clean.” Just by you saying that and the thought of cumming inside you was enough for him. “I’m clean too, but are you sure y/n, I don’t mind wearing a condom.” Before he could even finish his sentence, you grabbed his cock, slipping his tip through your folds. “Want it inside of me raw Minho,” you whimpered. That was enough confirmation for him.
He slowly pushed his cock into you, the stretch not feeling too much because he already prepped you, but it was so deep, you felt like you could cum from him just putting it inside of you. “Fuck kitten, your pussy is taking me so well, wish we did this before, it’s like you were made for me.” he moaned while thrusting into you. He slowly started playing with your clit. “Wanted you so bad sir, wanted you for so long.” That’s all he needed to start thrusting into you deeper. Each thrush hitting your g-spot perfectly. With the stimulation of his finger on your clit, you couldn’t do it anymore. You started clenching down on him harder and harder.
Your cunt was locking him in and all he could do was groan. The final push was when he moaned directly into your ear. You came all over his cock letting your moans hit his ear. He pulled out of you stroking his cock “Where do you want me to cum kitten, where do you want it?”
“I want it in my mouth” you begged and that was all he needed. He pushed his cock into your mouth causing you to deep throat it, cumming down your throat. “Fuck, I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.” you giggled. He kissed your cheek “I agree.”
You both fell asleep in each other’s arms only for you to wake up to make him breakfast like you promised. He came up behind you seeing you wearing his shirt and gave you a big hug “You know I could get used to this more often” he said kissing your cheek.
#stray kids#skz#straykids x reader#straykids smut#skz x reader#skz smut#skz lee know#skz lee minho#skz minho#lee know#lee minho#lee know smut#lee know x reader#minho smut#ju<3writes#ju <3 writes
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Pandora’s Box (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: Spencer gets called for work on his day off while having breakfast with his wife. He doesn’t know this day will end worse than he thought.
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: Mention to prison. Mention of kidnapping. Cat Adams. If I forgot something, let me know.
A/N: Written for this request. Two parts: this is the angsty one (sorry). How should Spencer make it up to Reader?
Part II
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Reader's POV
I always knew Spencer's job had its quirks. Granted, being an FBI agent is a dangerous job, and with my husband, this statement tends to be yet worse. Spencer has been kidnapped, drugged, shot in the knee, shot in the neck, framed for murder, incarcerated, and so on.
But after everything we've been through, one would expect things to settle down over time. Is it too much to ask?
I knew what was coming when the damn cell phone chimed that morning. It was Spencer's day off, and we had decided to go for breakfast at our favorite coffee shop since I had the day off too. It was rare we could match in our free time, and since we had both been very busy with our jobs, we wanted to enjoy that day.
Spencer gave me an apologetic look before answering the call.
"Reid," he spoke dryly. He wasn't happy about the interruption either.
While Pelenope surely told Spencer he should go to Quantico as soon as possible, I just stared at him—a glint of anticipated disappointment in my eyes.
"I'm so sorry," Spencer said, confirming my suspicions.
"Don't be. I know how it works." My answer was not reproachful, nor did I want to make him feel bad; instead, it was to clarify that I comprehended and accepted how our life's dynamic goes. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to my dad's today and staying there. He's been asking me when I would have a sleepover with him," I commented. I knew Spencer would feel less guilty if I didn't spend too much time alone.
"Okay. That's good. And I promise I'll make it up to you," Spencer stated, getting up from his chair before planting an affectionate kiss on my forehead.
Don't make promises you can't keep, I thought.
Here is the thing. Spencer has good intentions, but time isn't on our side lately, so I only hoped we could have a chance to get at least a day to spend together with no interruptions upon his return.
After leaving the coffee shop, I stopped by the apartment to grab some clothes and headed to my dad's.
My dad greeted me in a tight embrace at the front door.
"I thought you would spend your day off with Spencer?" He asked once we parted from our hug.
I knew he was picturing a bad scenario. I'm not keen on sharing my marriage issues with my father, but he could tell there was something.
"Uh. Well. Spencer got called from work," I explained. My dad hummed, not saying anything. I regretted how I worded it because I hate portraying Spencer as the bad guy.
"What?" I asked.
"Everything is okay? I mean, between you and Spencer?" My dad questioned, concerned.
"Yeah. We are fine. Don't worry about us. Come on inside; you promised me movies and hot cocoa," I smiled at him, lacing my arm with his and heading inside the house.
-
Spencer's POV
Cat Adams. That name only means disaster. I should have known that. This time I hoped she only had ruined my day off with my wife- something a little more bearable than being framed for murder and incarcerated.
Arriving at Quantico, Prentiss and Rossi explained to me what had happened. Cat's associate kidnaped a family and demanded the release of Cat Adams.
Really she thought that could be possible?
Emily told me they were bringing her in a few hours and that I should talk to her.
I didn’t know if I was ready to do that, but a family was in danger. I had to.
She looked so pleased to see me that I felt nauseous, and my mind flew to Milburn. She knew what she was doing, but I needed to control myself and have the upper hand somehow.
My entire demeanor changed when she voiced her demand: a date with me.
The mention of a 'date' with Cat Adams sounded twisted and insufferable. But not going could have been a mistake. Cat knew I wouldn't refuse, not after she said my wife's safety was in danger too.
Frantically I left the room to dial (Y/N)’s number, and it went straight to voicemail. She never turns off her phone. I called her dad, and he said she left the house for a job emergency without explaining too much.
I looked at Emily, who had already told Garcia to track my wife's location. Minutes later, Penelope told us she wasn't at her workplace and was nowhere to find. Her phone's signal went dead after she left her dad's house.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn’t know how, but Cat had her.
Rushing inside the room where Cat was, I slammed the table, demanding my wife's location. Cat, of course, laughed in my face.
"I guess now no one could interrupt our date," she dared with a smug grin.
Against all my judgment, I agreed to a plan I wasn't even sure about.
-
Reader's POV
After Milburn, we talked with Spencer about the real danger we can be exposed to as a couple realizing the kind of job he had. Not that we didn't discuss it before, but the threat became real after that. We had a plan: if something happened, he would contact me directly - or through someone from the team - and if the communication could be compromised, I should get rid of my phone and not tell anybody my location.
When my phone rang that afternoon, we were watching a movie with my dad on the couch. I stood and answered in the hall. A sternly Spencer spoke: "This is an emergency. Met me at my old apartment. There is a key under the mat. Get rid of the phone and not tell anyone. Don't open the door to anyone, and wait for me there."
When I was about to ask what had happened, the call ended. I doubted for a moment. Spencer sounded so out of himself, but after what he had been through, I knew his job could stress him like that. So I just did what I was told.
I lied to my dad, telling him I had a job emergency, and left.
In my mind, I ran through all the possibilities, and none helped me stay calm. Everything could go wrong, like when Spencer went to Mexico without telling me.
Arriving at the apartment, I noticed the key was under the mat, as Spencer told me.
We always talked about what to do with his old place. Since we married, we got a new home, and Spencer rented his apartment. It happened that the last couple who rented it left a month ago, and we were still looking for a new tenant.
The place was almost empty. But still, some of Spencer's old books remained on the shelves. I took one to pass the time until Spencer could arrive. I didn't have my phone, so the only thing I could do was wait.
-
Spencer's POV
The last thing I thought I would do was ice skating with the woman who framed me for murder and kidnapped my mom and now my wife. Cat enjoyed every minute of my torture, and I just wanted to end it. My mind ran fast to catch any lead that could help me, but Cat knew me better. I don’t like to say it, but she, indeed, knew me better.
"So, I wasn't shocked when I discovered you married to that girl. I was shocked, though, knowing how neglected you have had her," she said casually, doing spins on the ice.
"You don't know what you are saying," I scoffed, trying to sound calm, but I hated how she dared to talk about (Y/N) and me.
"Don't I? So you will tell me you haven't canceled dates or left her for cases very often? That isn't good, Spencie, nothing good," Cat mocked.
I didn't want to give in that much, but how the hell this woman always managed to get under my skin? It's not that I wasn't aware of my messy schedule, but we always agreed with (Y/N) that it was my job, and she understood. Lately, though, things have been getting worse in that matter, and on that, Cat had a point.
When we married, I promised (Y/N) to slow down my job rhythm. After Milburn, I thought I had had enough, and it was time to focus on my life. It worked initially, but as the honeymoon phase ended, I did not slow down and even started overworking myself.
Everything I have been doing in the past months seemed like a stupid decision that had (Y/N) in danger because of my job now. If something terrible happened to her, I would never forgive myself.
“I know you’re waiting for me to slip a clue. But you will not get anything if you don’t show me your old apartment,” Cat demanded.
Now I was utterly confused. Why Cat wanted that?
The thing with Cat is always this way. She has a secret agenda you can’t decipher until it’s too late. I was afraid of that, but not giving up on her demands would put people in danger. I hadn’t an option.
“Why did you marry, anyway? You know you can be with anyone,” Cat spoke as we were being driven in the van. I snapped my head up. Cat shrugged. “What? I am right. Your job is everything to you, Spencie. Don’t lie to yourself; you can’t have a normal life. Not when we know we are so alike.”
“You don’t know anything. I love my wife,” I stated. Cat scoffed.
“I know enough. Tell me, does your wife know where you are now? Does she knows you are with me?” She asked, looking at me intensely. I averted my gaze. Cat was right, but her reasoning was wrong. I don’t like to tell (Y/N) much about my job because it’s not fair to put that burden on her. Not after we have been through. It’s not a matter of trust.
We got to the building and got out of the van. Cat took my arm as armed FBI agents escorted us—a show worth seeing, and I just wanted to forget.
Arriving at the apartment door, I took out my keys to open the lock, but before doing so, Cat stopped me.
“Did you mean it?”
“What?”
“That you love your wife?”
“Of course I do!” I replied, exasperated.
“Show me,” she demanded. But I didn’t understand what she was asking. My confusion was evident. “Show me how you love her. Kiss me the way you would kiss her,” Cat requested. My eyes widened.
“What? No! I will not do that.”
“You will. If you want to see your wife and that family alive again, you will,” she retorted.
I was about to lose my patience. In the last three hours, Cat had just made me go in circles. But I knew what she could do, and I was terrified that her threats would come true.
I took a deep breath before leaning to kiss her. I knew it was wrong, but I just wanted to end this night and find my wife and the missing family. Before my lips reached hers, Cat stopped me.
“I told you, Spencie. Do it like I’m her. Make it good. I will know if you are pretending,” she warned.
Fuck. What a twisted mind.
I gathered my composure, and I tried to imagine that it was (Y/N) in front of me and not Cat. I cupped her cheeks, the way I like to do with (Y/N), and leaned again. This time with no hesitation. It had to look real.
-
Reader's POV
I heard a commotion outside; I couldn't determine who was talking in the hallway. I froze in the spot, my eyes fixed on the entrance door. Then I noticed the handle turning and the door opening wide.
What I saw made my brain stop working.
Spencer was on the threshold kissing a woman.
Did I say kissing? Scratch that. He was devouring her mouth. And they were enjoying it, I could tell. She was the one who ended the kiss, and I swore I saw Spencer follow her lips for more. The woman turned to see me. Then Spencer noticed I was inside, witnessing how he- my husband - kissed a woman that wasn't me. His eyes widened, leaving his grasp on the woman's cheeks to walk to me.
“(Y/N)? What- what are you doing here? I thought you- that she has-" he stuttered.
I can't tell if it was for nerves, shock, or the fact he had been caught. It didn't matter, though. I was not in a condition to say anything. I just stood there, looking like a kicked puppy. I hated it.
“Fuck!” He cursed as if he had realized what was going on. The problem was I didn’t know anything, and my mind ran with the worst scenery possible.
"Ups," the girl teased. That's when I truly focused on her. I knew this woman. I'm sure I did. Then it hit me. Cat Adams? Seriously?
"What is this?" I barely articulated, shifting my gaze between Spencer and Cat.
"I - I thought she had kidnapped you! She did it with a family. I was so worried," Spencer explained, reaching to grab my hands, which I snatched away. I didn't feel like being touched by him, not after what I saw.
"I can tell you were worried," I spat. Cat started laughing.
"She has quite a sense of humor. I like her," Cat commented, looking between Spencer and me.
Oh, she was enjoying this. And my rational self told me it was better to shut up until I could understand what all about was, but my emotional side got to win this time.
"And you wanted me here for this? Your urgent case was about her? Jeez, Spencer, I thought you were done with this psycho," I pointed, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Oh, darling. You should know by now that Spencer is obsessed with me. How do you explain what you saw? He was kissing the same woman who got him in jail for three months. Maybe it's a kind of Stockholm, who knows," Cat taunted, shrugging like she was clueless. My eyes shot daggers at her. It was infuriating how her words echoed in my brain.
"(Y/N), don't listen to her. She is playing games right now. She wants you mad," Spencer tried to explain. And maybe he was right. But the smug look on her only fueled my anger. I didn't want to snap, though.
"Yeah, you can tell yourself that if it makes you happy," I deadpanned. Cat chuckled.
“Uh-oh. That sounds like jealousy to me.”
"Stop it! Cat, where is the family?" Spencer grabbed her arm suddenly. Her smug smile never faded.
"Easy, Spencie. What are you going to do? Throw me against a wall again?"
What? When did that happen?
Spencer's face went pale as his eyes met mine.
"Ouch. Someone didn't know that," Cat teased. I didn't know what face I had, but Spencer left the grip of Cat's arm and turned to me. "You should tell her, Spencie. She won't believe me if I do."
"You did what?" I asked in disbelief.
When Spencer was about to say something, Luke rushed inside.
"We got them!"
Them? What the fuck was happening?
"Now that's when we were having fun! Not fair!"
Cat pouted with dissatisfaction.
Spencer's eyes never left mine, pleading for me not to jump and hit him - or her.
"Take her out," he sternly told Luke, who rushed to do so.
"It was nice to meet you, (Y/N). Hope Spencer can tell you more of our story,” she taunted before crossing the threshold. Luke took the precaution of closing the door behind them, leaving with Cat and the other FBI field agents.
And just like that, we were alone with Spencer. Cat wasn't in the apartment anymore, but her words and presence remained heavy in the air.
Spencer’s hands were shaking, and they tried to reach mine again. I didn’t let him, though, as I stepped back.
It was all so confusing. And even if there were a logical explanation for this, the nerves and the anger were too much to try to understand.
“(Y/N), baby. I can explain. It was a trap. Cat orchestrated the whole thing, and I didn’t notice her real intentions until now. You have to believe me,” Spencer sputtered, faster than I had seen him speak in a long time. I shook my head.
“You called me. You told me we were in danger and asked me to come here, Spencer,” I tried to reason with him. He did this; why?
Spencer’s eyes widened.
“No, no, no. No! I did not. I don’t know how it happened, but I didn’t call you. It wasn’t me. I thought you were kidnapped! Cat told me if I didn’t do what she wanted, she would hurt you!”
I scoffed.
“How convenient that sounds, uh?”
Spencer sighed. He didn’t know what to say, and honestly, I didn’t have the energy to help him.
“(Y/N), please. You can ask the team. Penelope tried to track your location. I called your dad! It’s all a misunderstanding.”
I felt bad for Spencer. He looked exhausted, and he was likely telling the truth. But that wasn't enough to erase the image of my husband kissing Cat Adams. That qualifies as cheating, right?
I wanted to slap him across the face. Fucking Spencer Reid!
“A misunderstanding? Not a biggie, right?”
I hated feeling like this, but I couldn't help it. The more Spencer tried to explain, the more my blood boiled. Was I being unfair to him? Maybe. But after months of his work interfering in our lives, I was already fed up. This was the last straw.
"I didn't mean it like it wasn't important. Can we please talk about this more calmly at home?"
No, we can not, I wanted to say.
"Before your phone rings again and you must leave on another case?"
Shit, that just came out of my mouth.
“(Y/N)…” Spencer started to speak, but I cut him off. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have right now.
“You know what? I think it’s better we take a break for this night. I’m going to my dad’s. He must have been worried after I left,” I said, trying to contain my shaky voice. I grabbed my purse and walked to the door.
Spencer stared after me, pleading with his eyes for me not to leave. I decided to ignore it. I needed to think and cool my head. I believe this is the wake-up call I feared might happen. Maybe Cat Adams had opened another Pandora's box tonight.
Part II
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Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @thebloomingeagle @pauline5525mgg @maltamurdock @disaster-in-waiting @pebble-has-a-mirgraine @anamiad00msday @chlochlosworld @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @miaxx03 @leahblackk
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfictions#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfics#pandora’s box
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Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!
I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea
Can't wait to read more of your fics!
Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written.
Anyway, here’s your fic!
there’s orange juice in the kitchen
You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps.
You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine.
It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice.
The hormones don’t help either.
But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out.
You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off.
—
You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain.
It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie.
Ah, right. Jamie.
Your boyfriend.
Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago.
Shit.
You call him back and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”
You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”
“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”
“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”
Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”
You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side.
“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”
Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff.
Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate.
“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
—
Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags.
“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross.
Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.
Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun.
“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”
“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out.
For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”
You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross.
So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.
A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does.
“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”
“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”
Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are.
“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking.
“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out.
“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt.
“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”
You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”
“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”
“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”
—
It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
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Hello so uhm.... 0w0
Could I ask for a Aziraphale x reader / crowley x reader (seperated when possible) where the reader is sick and they both hug them and wrap their wings around them?
I'm just thinking their feathers would be so soft >~<
Have a nice day/evening!
Word count: Crowley’s Part 1187 / Aziraphale’s part 1579
A/n: this was nice to write. I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy and have a great day/ evening as well.
Crowley
It was just a normal Tuesday, well as normal as it can get when going to work at Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, while feeling like someone hit me with a car. My head was pounding and it felt like my small breakfast of plain toast was trying to come back up. I would have called in, but I know Nina would need the help as we were the only to set to work today. I also didn’t tell a certain snake eyed demon about being sick because I know he would have made me stay home.
All of this leads us to where we are right now. I’m currently taking orders while Nina works on making the coffees and teas that are requested. It’s about two in the afternoon which means it’s time for our afternoon rush of people trying to get an extra boost of energy before they end their day. Trying to keep a smile on my face as my migraine gets worse from the loud customers, and the normally enticing smell of coffee which is currently making me more nauseous, is like hell on earth.
I was in the middle of explaining to an older lady that decaf does not in fact contain caffeine, when I noticed a familiar pair leaving the bookshop across the street. Trying to end this conversation quickly so my friends wouldn’t have to wait too long, I offered the lady a solution. “If you are nervous about the decaf having any caffeine I can recommend a warm cup of peppermint tea. It’s relaxing and contains no caffeine at all.” I said hoping to end this back and forth. Luckily she agreed right as the demon and angel pair walked in.
Offering the two a kind wave and forced smile, I entered the lady’s order and proceeded to enter the pairs usual order before they even reached the counter. Normally I would let them place their order like everyone else but today I didn’t want Crowley near me for too long knowing he would quickly realize I was unwell. “Hello Love, Aziraphale. I already entered your order so you can go take a seat, it’s on the house today.” I said trying to avoid conversation with the pair.
Aziraphale just nodded in thanks before going to find a seat. While Crowley on the other hand only stepped to the side so I could continue to assist customers, while he processed my strange behavior. “You never comp our order. Something about it being bad for business. What’s going on with you?” He asked, and even though he wore such dark glasses I could tell he was squinting at me trying to figure me out.
“Nothing is going on. Can’t I be nice to my boyfriend and friend every once in a while.” I responded mindlessly, entering orders trying to avoid my demon’s scrutiny. “I have to help these customers, Crowley go sit down with Zira and Nina will bring it out when it’s done.” I heard a slight scoff before he walked away.
I knew he figured something out but I also knew that he wouldn’t risk making a scene at my job just because he thinks I’m hiding something. Knowing Crowley he would keep quiet about it until I was off work and that’s exactly what he did.
After another four hours of helping customers and cleaning the shop I was finally able to go home and relax. It was a bonus that Nina had figured out that I wasn’t feeling well and told me to take the next day off to get better. So ready for an extra day to recover from this stupid migraine, I left the coffee shop and headed over to A.Z. Fell and Co. to retrieve my grump of a boyfriend knowing he tended to hangout there until I was off work so he could drive me home.
“Hey Aziraphale, Have you seen Crowley? I just got off work and thought he’d be here like normal.” I asked the angel, who was currently reading a book at his desk, upon noticing the demon was nowhere to be seen.
Aziraphale jumped in his seat not having heard me come in. “Oh Y/n, yes Crowley went to the pharmacy around the corner, something about picking up medicine.” He said turning slightly to look at me before turning back to his book. “Though I’m not sure what medicine he would need, it’s not like he can get sick or anything.” He continued obviously oblivious to why a demon such as Crowley would need human medicine.
I just rolled my eyes and took a seat in an armchair. “You don’t mind if I wait for him here do you?” I asked, relaxing for the first time all day, not registering the angel's response as I fell asleep in the chair.
“They’re sleeping Crowley, don’t wake them up. They have obviously had a long day.” I heard my angel friend address my Boyfriend. It was obvious he was trying to keep quiet but was failing as began to slowly awaken from my nap.
I heard a groan before feeling Crowley slip one arm behind my back and the other under my legs, gently lifting me out of the arm chair. “They wouldn’t have had a long day if they told me they were sick.” I heard him grumble as he walked out of the book shop and gently placed me in his bentley. I tried to wake up fully to greet him but the gentle rumble of the car starting lulled me back to sleep as Crowley obeyed traffic laws for once.
The next time I woke up, I was being placed on mine and Crowley’s shared bed. He had brought me home driving far too slow for his liking and then carried me all the way into our apartment. It warmed my heart to know I had such an effect on the snake-eyed demon.
After processing where I was I finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to worry about me, it’s just a headache.” I said, trying to calm the demon.
I watched as he set his sunglasses on his nightstand before laying down and wrapping his arms around me. “I will always worry about you, Love. I just wish you had told me. Now go back to sleep, in the morning you can take the medicine I got for you. And we will rest all day.” He said, kissing my forehead.
“Okay” I said snuggling into his warm embrace before a thought came to mind. “Hey Crow, could you wrap your wings around me too? They’re just so soft and they help block out the light.” I asked half asleep, hoping he would agree. I didn’t have to wait long as he rolled on to his back with me laying on his chest. I heard feathers ruffle as he opened his wings before wrapping them around me.
I cuddled closer to his chest as he whispered “anything for you, darling.” and then we both drifted off to a peaceful sleep.
Aziraphale
Dating an angel was a blessing and a curse. While he appreciated things like books, food, and drinks, he didn’t fully understand what it was like for humans when they got sick. Sure he’s been on earth for 6000 years and seen numerous people get sick, but it was never someone close to him. He tried to avoid sickness, he knew he couldn’t get any of the human diseases but he didn’t want to risk getting someone else sick because he came in contact with someone who was sick. He just didn’t want to risk it.
That’s why when I woke up this morning feeling like world war 3 was happening in my stomach, I decided to just tell my sweet boyfriend that I wouldn’t be able to come by today as work had called me in to cover for a coworker. I know it’s wrong to lie to him about it but I didn’t want him to tell me not to come over because I’m sick. It was easier on me if I canceled our plans instead of him being grossed out by my sickness. So, I’ve resigned myself to trying to nap on my couch as my bed just wasn’t comfortable right now.
I just wanted to sleep through this, so I took some over the counter stomach medicine that I had laying around and turned on some anime to relax.
After about four hours of watching Demon Slayer, I decided to scroll on social media because maybe that would put me to sleep. Watching Tanjiro get his ass kicked wasn’t exactly relaxing right now. I opened up tiktok and started watching videos of different cosplayers and people making art for their small businesses. I would occasionally see one that reminded me of my demon friend Crowley and would send it to him, completely forgetting he typically hangs out with Aziraphale and would probably say something about it.
P.o.V change to Aziraphale’s bookshop
Little did Y/n know that was exactly what was happening. Crowley was currently scrolling through his phone listening to the angel complain about his partner canceling their plans because they had to go into work. Not completely paying attention to the angle Crowley watched as a tiktok notification flashed across his screen. He opened it wondering if Y/n was at work why would they be sending him tiktok.
“What time does Y/n typically get off work?” The demon asked, trying to process what was happening. He wondered if it was maybe something they had sent before going to work and it just took a while to come through, but then again the chat did say you were currently active in the app.
The angel paused thinking for a moment, “I believe they get off around five, so they should still be there now. Why do you ask?” He asked curious as to what his companion was getting at.
Crowely took a second to decide if he was going to tell the truth or try to protect the innocent man's feelings from the fact his partner had lied. Sighing, he decided it was probably best to tell the truth even if it would hurt the angel. “Well they just sent me a tiktok and it says they are active.” He said turning his Phone for his friend to see.
The angel’s eyes went wide seeing that his partner was active on the social media app while they were supposedly at work. He tried to deny it, “Maybe they are just on break.” He really didn’t want to believe that you would lie to him about having to work. Why would lie about that, if you just needed a day to rest he would understand.
“Well looking here it seems they have been sending me tiktoks for the past hour so unless their lunch is over an hour long, they aren’t at work.” Crowley responded, scrolling up in the conversation to see when the first one was sent to him. Even though he was a demon he didn’t want to believe that his friend would lie to the angel. Y/n just wasn’t that kind of person. “The only way to get an answer would be to go over to their apartment, cause if you call them they will probably try to play it off somehow.” He said not trying to concern the angel but also trying to voice the truth.
Aziraphale nodded and grabbed his coat, bidding his friend goodbye and heading out. He really hoped it was just that y/n had gotten off work early for covering and it wasn’t them lying to him. The angel couldn’t help but overthink things as he approached the familiar apartment gently knocking on the door.
P.o.V back to reader
I had almost fallen asleep when I heard a quiet knock at my front door, not thinking anything of it I got up and walked to the door. Opening the door I was shocked to see the face of my angelic boyfriend with worry written across his features.
“Zira, what are you doing here?” I was confused as to why he showed up here after I told him I was working an extra shift. “My boss let me leave early because it was slow and turns out they didn’t need me after all, I just got home. Why don’t you come in?” I said trying to cover the fact I in fact did not go into work. Aziraphale slowly walked into my home and sat down on the couch looking around. I could tell there was something on his mind before I watched him freeze, as his eyes landed on the cold medicine sitting on the table.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were ill? I would have understood.” He said, sounding dejected. “I know, you lie down and I’ll make you some tea.” He started getting up from the couch. It was crazy to see how fast he could go from hurt to caring in only a few seconds. I stoof there frozen, He just figured out I lied to me, I’m guessing he knew before he came here, but he is ready to take care of me just like that. I felt a tear roll down my cheeks as I took in how truly kind Aziraphale is. “Love, what’s wrong? It’s ok, just relax, I’ll take care of you.” He noticed I was still standing by the door.
I gently shook my head, I can’t just let him take care of me after I lied to him. “But I lied to you. I said I was going to work and canceled our plans, when in reality I’m sick. You don’t like sick people. You’ve said so yourself. You avoid them even though you can’t get sick. I thought you wouldn’t want to be near me till I get better. You don’t have to take care of me just because we are dating, I understand.” I said as more tears rolled down my face. I was too busy trying to tell him to go back to the bookshop to notice he had walked up to me.
I was startled out of my ranting by the feeling of being wrapped in his warm embrace. He had pulled me into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of my head. I completely relaxed into him, it was the most comfortable I had felt all day. “It’s alright Darling, I’m here because I love you. I want to take care of you. I avoid sick people so I don’t get you sick, I may not get sick but I could still pass the germs to you. I will always take care of you when you don’t feel well.” He said, face still rating against my hair. I just cuddled deeper into his embrace.
After a moment I lifted my head to break the hug so I could lie down when I noticed it wasn’t just his arms wrapped around me. I stared at the beautiful white feather that trapped me in a warm embrace. I looked at my boyfriend’s face shocked as he had never shown me his wings before. “Are those?” I asked, completely stunned. “Can I touch them?” I also asked turning in his hold reaching towards the soft feathers.
He just responded with a hum and a nod letting me run my fingers through his feathers. They were the softest thing I had ever felt. I giggled as I felt him nuzzle his face into the back of my neck, the feathers ruffling slightly at the contact. “Are they sensitive?” I asked, noticing his reaction.
“They can be yes. It’s been a while since I have let them out so a little more so at the moment.” I felt him speak into the back of my neck.
“Well thank you for showing them to me. They truly are extremely soft.” I said praising the angel wrapped around me. I completely forgot about being sick enjoying his embrace.
He slowly let me go and guided me to the couch, folding his wings back slightly so as to not knock anything over. “Of course dear. Now lay down, I’ll be back in a moment with soup.” He said before walking off towards the kitchen leaving me to relax into the couch. It was nice knowing I had such an angel of a boyfriend to take care of me.
#good omens x reader#good omens#good omens 2#crowley x reader#anthony j crowley#aziraphale x reader#aziraphale
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i’m getting my drains out tomorrow and i’m sure things will be different after they’re gone, so here’s my observations about top surgery recovery as of 6 days post-op!
(click here for my first post, from 3 days after)
something i forgot to mention in my last post is that if they tell you a medication has to be taken with food, do not fuck with that. absolutely do not. my antibiotic had to be taken with food and on day 2, i thought “well, i just had breakfast not too long ago, surely that’s close enough and i’ll be fine” and my parents agreed, but guess what? i spent the next hour in hell. the meds made me nauseous so i had to eat, but eating still hurt a lot because of the sore throat from being intubated, so trying to make it better just caused me more pain. and both the sore throat and the nausea (which i guess was as much a heartburn sort of situation as it was nausea) were both very chest-adjacent feelings, so that on top of the usual pain and discomfort from surgery was just a perfect storm of horrible things all centralized to one part of my body. it was awful, and i will never fuck around with something like that again. that being said, if you do find yourself in that situation or are just looking for something light that will still do the job because you’re not that hungry, 10/10 would recommend oatmeal and apple sauce. apple sauce is what finally got my body to stop rioting against me and my bad decisions, and after that i started always taking it halfway through a bowl of oatmeal and that worked perfectly.
on day 4, i was able to sit up and get out of bed by myself for the first time! i still can’t do it just by using my core muscles, but if i hold onto my legs and lower them, i can sort of roll myself up into a sitting position without using any of the affected muscles too much.
on day 5, the sore throat from hell that being intubated gave me finally went away! cheers to not gripping my pillow in pain every two seconds while i swallow my spit anymore. it lasted a while, but it honestly went away pretty fast — on day 4 it was a bit better than it had been, and then the next day it was just gone.
also on day 5, i really started to feel the bandages digging into my armpits. i’m not sure if it’s because the bandage has been slipping up over time, if my armpits have some extra swelling now, or if it’s just been wearing my body down over time, but it feels like it’s starting to cut off circulation at a certain point and it makes my arms ache sometimes. that’s probably not great, but the surgeon will be redoing everything at my post-op anyway so i’ve just been riding it out until then. in the meantime, i can tell it’s definitely worse when i’m sitting back and kind of slouched (because that position pushes it up more), so i try to sit up or walk around when i feel it. having pillows on either side of me to put my elbows up on definitely also helps a lot — that’s how i’ve been sleeping, but it would be good for just sitting too.
also also on day 5, i started getting this weird fluttery feeling in the spot where the left side of my chest and the meat of my left armpit connect. it feels like it’s probably some sort of muscle spasm. it’s not painful at all, but i honestly wish it was because it’s just super weird and uncomfortable instead and i hate it. it genuinely might be my least favorite out of any pains or sensations i’ve had so far. luckily, though, it seems like it’s already died down and only happened a couple times today.
my energy has been all over the place. i’m at the point now where mentally i’m much closer to my normal state so i’m once again having the adhd urge to constantly do stuff, but my body’s ability to keep up is far less consistent. sometimes i get restless and can just get up and pace around for a while, but other times i try to do that and get really quickly exhausted. i’m definitely more able to have conversations and feel more like myself now though, even when my body is tired out.
i’ve been thirsty as all hell the past few days. i feel like i’m constantly asking my boyfriend to refill my water for me because i drain it so fast. it’s a very specific kind of thirst, too — like it never quite goes away even when i’m definitely very thoroughly hydrated, and like anything but water can’t even touch it. it’s not a bad thing, getting lots of fluids after surgery is important and i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly why my body is doing it, but it is a bit frustrating to just be incessantly thirsty for days at a time.
my walking posture is getting straighter every day. i still have to hold my chest to walk because of the bandage feeling like it drags things down, but if i’m walking with my mastectomy pillow, it mostly just looks like a typical slouch and not the deep hunch i started with.
at this point, my chest is super sensitive to any kind of movement, and that’s the other thing the pillow has been really good for at this stage. if the bandage shifts at all, if my body moves at all, basically anything — i feel it all in my chest really intensely. it’s not always painful, but it isn’t comfortable either. holding the pillow to my chest helps stabilize things so the movement doesn’t reach the sensitive parts as much, which is really great.
walking up stairs is easier than walking down stairs, which is the exact opposite of what i would’ve guessed. from what i can tell just from moving around, i think it’s because bending your legs up to a higher step pretty solidly relies on your legs and lower core muscles to make it happen, while reaching your legs down to a lower step requires stretching your body out (which is famously not your body’s favorite thing to do after top surgery). it often feels like i almost can’t reach the step below and have to just barely catch it with the balls of my feet. it’s also just generally been good to take the stairs super slow going up or down because you really can’t use the railing — putting enough weight on it to really rely on it at all requires using chest muscles, so the best i’ve been able to do is just rest my hand on it in case of emergency (because i’d rather hurt my chest than crack my head open if it comes to that).
one of the things that makes the stairs hard is that my center of balance is off from hunching, and that definitely affects my walking too. it’s less pronounced now that i’m in the habit of using the pillow to walk straighter, but i have to take shorter strides and sort of shuffle around because longer strides need better balance, and even with the shuffle i’m stumbling more than usual. i already have some balance problems so i’m pretty used to the feeling of it, but it has freaked my parents out a couple times to see me start listing to one side before i catch myself.
fuck reflexes. reflexes are the actual worst. something i didn’t anticipate is that no matter how careful you are to not reach your arms too far or move them too fast, you can never totally account for what you do if something starts falling. a few times now, i’ve definitely reached too far or fast before stopping myself because i saw something about to go down and my brain instinctively told my hands to catch it. i’m not sure if there’s anything you can really do about that, but it’s worth being aware of because it caught me by surprise the first time i did it.
one side of my chest has been consistently more swollen than the other. that side has also consistently drained less, and the fluid it does drain is darker and redder. we asked my surgeon if that was normal and she said there’s almost always one side that drains more than the other, but it’s still something we’ve been keeping an eye on. hopefully i’ll be able to get a more concrete answer at my post-op, once she can see the swelling up close and look at the drainage numbers from the past week.
as i’ve been getting some use of my body back, the pain in my chest has gotten a bit more obvious. it’s milder pain, and when i’m not doing anything it’s mostly painless to the point where i’m going a lot longer between tylenol doses, but when i’m using my body, i can definitely feel it. the fact that i’m not avoiding physical activity like the plague as much means i’m noticing more pain even though objectively my pain levels have gone down — the things that hurt now didn’t hurt less before, i just didn’t even attempt them before because i knew they would hurt so much. now that the pain is down, i can try more things, which means i’m more likely to try something that ends up hurting. of course, you should always try to follow the if-it-hurts-then-stop rule, but you can’t avoid the pain altogether as you learn your body’s boundaries, so i ended up getting to a point where getting better feels like getting worse.
on that note, i’ve also learned that there’s a pretty distinct difference between milder “i should proceed with caution” pain and intense “stop what you’re doing right now” pain. as much as avoiding things that hurt is ideal, it’s not always realistic, but my body has definitely been very clear in telling me what i can and can’t compromise on. in the beginning i was really paranoid about doing anything that caused any pain at all, but now i’m more familiar with where i can push a bit further if needed and where i really need to hold off.
i’ve been getting chills much more easily lately, and they’ve also been SUPER strong. i’ll be watching a show or listening to music and something will give me chills, and it’s a really intense feeling all across my ribs, and even thinking about the thing that caused it brings on a whole new wave. i’m super curious to see if it’s just a temporary result of my nerves doing their thing or if it’ll stick around long-term. it’s not unpleasant at all, i honestly really like it.
i got some food for myself for the first time today (day 6) and it just involved slicing some pretty soft cheese, but wow, it was a workout for my shoulder. i’m guessing it’s because i haven’t really used my muscles in that way for a week, and because not being able to use my chest muscles means i was relying on my shoulder a lot more to do all the work of moving my arm. by the time i was done, just holding the block of cheese to put it back in the fridge felt like lifting weights.
i didn’t change my shirt the first few days but i’ve changed a few times now, and we’ve perfected the art of getting a button up shirt on me without overreaching my arms at all. basically, you want to put both arms into the sleeves before you lift the shirt up onto your shoulders, because once the shirt is on one shoulder, you have to reach back a lot farther to get to the other sleeve. once you have both arms in, you can lift it onto your shoulders and button it. ideally, whoever’s helping you should do most of the work to pull the sleeves over your arms so you don’t have to stretch your arm out to get them on. i’m sure that’ll be overkill once i have a bit more mobility, but for now, it works great. it definitely would be tough if the shirt was fitted though, so i’m glad i went up a size.
i hope my posts like this have been helpful, or at least interesting to read! i’ll definitely keep updating as time goes on and things change, and i’m also going to work on a breakdown of my experience at the hospital pre- and post-op, as well as my post-op appointment experience once that happens tomorrow.
y’all are getting the good, the bad, and the ugly of my recovery experience. i know a lot of this has been very focused on the bad and the ugly so far because surgery is generally rough, but i’m going to see my chest again tomorrow so stay tuned for some good!
#bet you weren’t expecting an even longer post than my last one#i just have so much to say about this whole experience#i want to document EVERYTHING especially the stuff i haven’t seen other people mention#top surgery adventures#top surgery#trans man#transmasc
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Masterlist
Read on AO3!
Part Eight!
Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)
@applestruda
CW: broken bones and blood
Many thanks to Elle Periwinklemoonlight for giving me several ideas for this chapter, and Mochi for helping me with some of Mumbo's dialogue <3
Mumbo had always liked sunsets.
He'd never been that big a fan of sunrises. Don't get him wrong, they were pretty and all! But the only times he had been awake to see the sun rise at all was when he had been up all night working on some sort of contraption. The early morning light had forced its way through any crack it could find and pulled Mumbo's attention away from his work, alerting him to the fact that he'd lost track of time and was about to have a very bad day.
(Look, his stomach was sensitive! If he didn't get enough sleep, he'd get all nauseous and lose his appetite the next day. One would think that would be enough of a reason to not stay up all night, but there was a difference between being smart and making smart decisions.)
Anyway! Where was he? Oh, right. The sun. Fascinating thing, really. Some might even call it essential! Most people would, actually. Mumbo certainly did.
Sunrises had always been something Mumbo only saw every once in a while, and dreaded every time. The first rays of light peeking over the mountains were a taunting reminder of one's folly. And with the rise of the sun came the song of the birds, declaring in their high pitched tremolo that it was time to wake up and go about one's day.
Scar had asked Grian what the birds were saying once, over their lovely lunch which was actually just breakfast for the late risers. Grian had given him the most deadpan stare Mumbo had ever witnessed (and that was saying something– he'd known Doc, after all). “Just because I'm an avian doesn't mean I can understand the birds, Scar.”
Scar frowned, giving Grian a confused look. “You can't lie to me! I just heard you talking to the chickens, mister.”
Grian's look became much more pointed. “What chickens, Scar?” he asked sweetly, in the tone that held threats hidden under the surface.
Scar's eyes widened almost comically as he immediately tried to backtrack. “Oh! No! Nooo, no chickens here. None at all! What chickens? I've never seen a chicken. Ever.” He looked over at Mumbo, before leaning forward and stage-whispering to Grian, “I think I fooled him.”
Mumbo had chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Scar, I'm sitting right next to you,” he pointed out.
Scar blinked. “Oh. Well! Nonexistent chickens aside, Grian, you still haven't told us what the birds are saying.”
Grian had stared at Scar in silence for a full five seconds before sighing deeply. “They're laughing at me for not getting enough sleep to deal with this.”
“See!” Scar smiled triumphantly, looking over at Mumbo. “I told you he could talk to birds!”
“Pretty sure he's just lying, mate.”
Grian lazily waved his spoon in the air. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mumbo. I never lie.”
Scar's eyes shone. “Now, if my time as a businessman has taught me anything, it's to tell when someone is lying. And that, my dear Grian, was a big ol' lie.”
Grian's eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. “I'm going to bite you.”
“That's a lie!”
Grian then lunged across the table and tackled Scar to the ground. Mumbo shrieked, nearly falling off the bench with them. “Oh, goodness, don’t break the man, G!”
Grian didn’t even have a chance– Scar pinned him to the ground with a triumphant whoop, laughing as Grian squawked and flapped his wings helplessly. “I win! Haha! You are not immune to the good times!”
“What does that even mean?” Grian shot back, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Scar, get off me!”
Scar stood, brushing the dirt off of his pants. “Aww, G, now I’m all dusty! Dusty and sweaty! Eugh!” He moved to take his shirt off, and Grian shrieked.
“Scar!” Grian shot up and smacked Scar’s hand. “Put your clothes back on!”
Scar whined, pouting slightly. “C’mon, G! I didn’t even take anything off”
Mumbo groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I miss Impulse and Pearl.”
Sunsets were different.
Mumbo… didn’t really know how to describe it. In the same kind of way people liked going to bed more than they liked waking up, Mumbo enjoyed sunsets far more than he did sunrises. Sunsets were calm, whereas sunrises were frantic, harried. They were a declaration of the day ending, and that rest would come soon. They were an end to the scorching hot temperatures of the summer and a prelude to the cool kiss of the night’s breeze against his face. Not to get all poetic and everything, but they just were nicer.
He enjoyed how the sky would be painted in oranges and pinks and purples, and how slowly the knights would gather together on the more clear nights to sit under the stars and talk. He enjoyed how in those moments they were all at peace and happy, and how they cared so deeply for each other it felt less like a group of friends and more like…
Family.
That’s what it was.
Sunsets reminded him of family.
Not this sunset, though.
As the sun slowly set, and shadows grew to cover the whole land, Mumbo felt… different. As he rode alongside his fellow knights (his friends, his family), he couldn’t shake the feeling of urgency that usually accompanied the rising of the sun, rather than the fall. This sunset was not something of love and rest.
This sunset felt like a warning.
They were running out of time. As the clock ticked, as the sand fell through the hourglass, a sense of impending doom settled over each one of the knights. Mumbo, in his often anxiety ridden state, was no stranger to the feeling that sat tight in his chest and caused his heart to race, tearing air from his lungs in sharp gasps.
Scar, riding near him, glanced over and saw the poorly concealed panic on the man’s face. Urging his horse closer, he got Mumbo’s attention with a soft ‘psst!’
Mumbo startled, torn from his thoughts as he so often was. He met Scar’s gaze and gave him a nervous, half-hearted smile. Scar could, most likely, see past any pretense he was putting up. The man was good at what he did– good at reading people, good at looking for certain nonverbal clues that cued him into what the person was actually thinking. “Hey, Scar.”
Scar reached out, holding the reins in one hand as he gave Mumbo a pat on the shoulder. “You doin’ good? You’re not looking so hot.”
Mumbo sighed, looking away. “I’m… I dunno, Scar. I just… goodness. This whole thing is so… it’s overwhelming, Scar. What are we even supposed to do?” He laughed, a tense sound. “It’s– it’s just… it’s not something we can just… it’s not simple, Scar. We can’t just solve it with some redstone, or some crazy invention– this is so big. And I don’t– I don’t know how to fix it.”
Scar pressed his lips together into a thin line. The setting sun cast long shadows over his face, the little light remaining creating dappled patterns on his skin as it filtered in through the trees. He thought for a moment before speaking. “Mumbo, you don’t have to know how to fix everything. You know that, right?”
Mumbo let out a strained laugh, his grip on the reins tightening slightly. “Well, Scar, mate, isn’t that kind of… my job? You know, brilliant redstone inventor over here, coming up with solutions is my whole thing. It’s not like I could… well, I have to make up for my lack of physical prowess somehow.”
Scar shook his head, chuckling softly. “Oh, Mumbo, Mumbo, Mumbo. I’ve been there! I get you, I really do. You know, back in the day, I had a bit of a job myself. I was a businessman, Mumbo Jumbo! And a very good one at that. And my job was to sell things to customers! And…” he frowned, cutting himself off sharply. “I don’t know where I’m going with this. Man, Cub’s so much better at this than me.”
Mumbo felt himself relaxing slightly, the tension slowly being let out of his body. He smiled, giving Scar a half-shrug. “Cub has a lot of skill, that’s for sure. Plenty of experience to go along with it, as well.”
Scar nodded, and let silence fall over them for a moment before taking in a deep breath. “So, Mumbo, what I was trying to say… I guess, you don’t need to solve everything? I mean, none of us have any clue what we’re doing. Kinda.” He thought for a moment. “That’s not it. What I’m really trying to say is that we’re all in this together? It’s not your job specifically to figure it out alone. Impulse is our friend, and… we all really care for him.” His voice trembled slightly as he finished, eyes darkening. “I hope he’s safe.”
Mumbo furrowed his brows, concern shining in his eyes as he looked over at Scar. “You doing alright, mate?” This whole thing had been hard on all of them, but something seemed… off… about Scar.
Scar blinked, and shook himself out of whatever sort of trance he had been in with a slight jerk of his head. “Oh! Yes, don’t you worry, mister. I’m doin’ just fine over here! Just thinking about the scolding I’m gonna give Impulse when we get back home.” He flashed Mumbo a bright smile, and Mumbo let it rest.
He knew that smile was forced. He knew when the cheerful persona of Scar’s came out to play. He knew, and yet… what could he do? Mumbo wasn’t good with words. He was probably the worst out of the knights when it came to social interaction, and that was saying something given they were practically hermits outside of the occasional job they’d pick up and shopping trips.
So Mumbo did what he did best.
He let his body go on autopilot, and got lost in his thoughts.
At the front of the group, Grian and Pearl were talking in hushed voices. Grian remained stubbornly in his watcher form, despite Pearl’s insistence on taking a break and letting his eyes rest. He’d given her a look, feathers rustling irritably as she spoke. “Stop nagging me, Pearl. Gosh, you’re starting to sound like Timmy.”
She let out an indignant sound, glaring at him. “I am not! And it’s not nagging, mate, you’re going to give yourself a headache with all that looking!”
Grian scoffed, looking away. “It’s called watching, thank you very much. And you’re the one who’s gonna give me a headache, with all your talking! I know what I’m doing Pearl, I’m not a baby.”
“Well, you’re acting like one,” Pearl shot back. “I’m right here, Griba. You don’t have to be hyper vigilant, or whatever it is you’re doing.”
“And what happens if I don’t?” Grian snapped, his voice dropping slightly. “What happens if I lose sight of the demon and Impulse, what if–?” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath, “Pearl, I need this,” he admitted, voice low. “If I don’t keep my focus on this, I think I’ll go crazy, Pearl. I’ll get all… you know me, Pearl.” Desperation seeped into his voice. “I don’t– it doesn’t matter if I get a headache or strain myself or, anything, really! But I can’t…”
Pearl sighed. “I know. I know, Griba. I’m just worried. About you, about Impulse, about this whole Watcher thing, about… well, everything. It’s just such a big mess, y’know? And we’re all tangled up in this big web and…” She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s pretty overwhelming. Just… we gotta also take care of ourselves, mate. We won’t be able to do anything if we run ourselves ragged before we even get to Impulse.”
Whatever Grian was going to say in response was interrupted by the sound of rattling bones and an arrow flying right by his head, narrowly missing. He shrieked, wings flaring out as the horse beneath him startled. He grabbed the reins and pulled back, stopping the horse from bolting, though it still took a few steps forward.
“Skeleton!” Pearl called out, though the announcement was unneeded. “Stay on your guard!”
The undead’s bones creaked as it came into view, appearing from under the trees. Normally, along more well-traveled paths, the surrounding areas would be lit up enough to stop the mobs from spawning, and the frequent patrols would be enough to discourage them from wandering too close. Unfortunately for the knights, they were traveling through an uninhabited area with no path in sight. They could handle the mobs just fine, but it certainly made traveling a little more difficult.
Scar drew his crossbow, fingers brushing over the enchantments carved into the material, and nocked a bolt. “I got it!” He drew the bolt back and fired, the skeleton collapsing into a pile of bones with a rattling groan. “Yes! Hotguy strikes again!”
Grian would’ve rolled his eyes if he could. “You and that Hotguy thing, I swear…” His feathers began to settle back down, and he folded his wings behind his back. “Right, then. That’s probably our cue to stop for the night.”
“We’re stopping?” Mumbo asked, slightly confused. “Why?”
Pearl sighed, dismounting. She gently stroked her horse’s neck before answering Mumbo. “As much as we’d love to get to Impulse as soon as possible, we can’t be riding through the night. The horses are tired, and we need time to rest and recuperate as well. I…” She looked over at Grian, watching him dismount as well. “I don’t want to stop. I really don’t. But we have to.”
Scar nodded. “Makes sense! Gotta be our best selves if we’re gonna deal with that demon guy!” He dismounted, Mumbo following a moment later. “Mumbo and I can go light up some of the surrounding area while you two make a fire and deal with the horses?” he suggested.
“Good idea. You have those…” Pearl gestured vaguely with her hand, trying to think of the word. “...magic torches? The fancy ones, so ya don’t burn down the whole forest?”
“I never leave home without them!” Scar grabbed Mumbo’s arm. “Come on, Mumble Jumble, time to light up this forest!”
Mumbo yelped as he got dragged away, casting one last terrified glance at Grian and Pearl before disappearing into the woods with Scar.
“I swear,” Pearl chuckled as she dealt with the horses, “he never loses energy. I’ve rarely ever seen that man get tired.”
Grian busied himself with clearing a small area for a campfire, using his bird-like feet to help dig up the grass. “Scar’s… definitely something,” he agreed, shaking the dirt off his talons before hopping (not walking– hopping) awkwardly over to a tree, his wings flapping slightly to help balance him. He began to snap some smaller branches and twigs, gathering them in his arms. “Dunno what we’d do without him. Without any of them.”
Pearl smiled sadly, giving one of the horses a soft pat before walking over to help Grian with his task. “Barely feels like any time’s passed at all, yeah? Since we first met in that old town.”
Grian laughed at the memory, shaking his head. “You’d just crashed into the ground. Still had no clue how to use those wings of yours.” He glanced at the colourful moth wings that were folded delicately behind Pearl’s back.
She was scared, Grian could tell. Wide eyes that were the same blue of a storm-promising sky and filled with barely held back tears. She was scraped up and bruised from her fall, the wings trailing behind her seeming unnatural and unwieldy.
Grian didn’t ask questions. She needed help, and that was all he needed to know.
Later, he would hear stories of feathered golden wings, carrying Pearl through the sky alongside her flock. He would listen in from behind a door that hadn’t been completely shut as she told Jimmy what it was like to soar high above endless fields of sunflowers and wheat, racing her flockmates at speeds she would never again be able to achieve.
Grian and Jimmy had lost their flock when they were young. It was no wonder that Jimmy was interested in Pearl’s memories of her flock, who had treated her with kindness and love. Flockless avians were often unable to defend themselves and died without the protection a flock was supposed to provide.
Jimmy and Grian had been lucky enough to find an old town nearby, with inhabitants who were more than willing to let them in. They’d made a life for themselves there, when Pearl had come crashing into their lives.
“I broke my leg,” Pearl recalled, wincing slightly at the bittersweet memory. “And you and Tim helped patch me back up. And then I just never left.”
“I’ve cursed that day ever since,” Grian joked, yelping when Pearl elbowed him. “Hey! Not cool!” he squawked as Pearl giggled softly. “I wonder how Tim’s doing right now,” he added after a moment. “Do you think he misses us?”
Pearl raised her eyebrows. “Grian, we do visit him. He’s doing just fine, you saw for yourself. Got a whole new bunch of friends and everything!” She examined Grian’s face. “Oh, you’re not upset he didn’t join us, are you?” she teased lightly. “You know Jimmy would hate the outdoorsy life we’ve got going on. He’s perfectly comfortable where he is.”
Grian sighed, turning and hopping back to the area he’d prepared for their fire, beginning to place the sticks down. “Can you grab some rocks?” he asked, “I hate not being able to fly. Walking is so hard.”
Pearl laughed, setting her sticks down near Grian before starting to search for smaller rocks. “You do look cute though, hopping around like a little birdie. Oh, don’t give me that, you know it’s true!”
“It’s humiliating is what it is,” Grian muttered, “Mumbo and Scar are never gonna let me live it down.”
“Good!” Pearl chirped, bringing back the stones she had collected to make a circle. “You deserve it, honestly.”
Mumbo’s shriek rang out through the forest, startling the two. Grian nearly fell over from how much he jumped, eyes going wide from shock. What made the shriek more concerning was the explosion that followed soon after, and Pearl was about to charge off into the woods before Scar yelled, “Just a creeper! We’re good!” his voice tiny from the distance.
Pearl shook her head, sighing softly. “Those two are going to give me gray hairs early,” she murmured fondly.
“You’re not the only one,” Grian muttered, earning a laugh from Pearl. “What?”
“Maybe if you’d stop being such a scaredy cat–”
“I am not–!”
Despite their bickering, they were able to get the fire going before Scar and Mumbo came back, looking a tad singed but none the worse for the wear.
“Area is successfully lit up!” Scar proclaimed. “We should be safe from all the spooky things out there now. Should be.”
“We’ll set up a watch nonetheless. Better be safe than sorry,” Grian decided, as Mumbo and Scar joined him and Pearl at the campfire. “I’ll go first, because there is no way you’re waking me up once I’m out.”
“I’ll go second then,” Mumbo volunteered, “if no one else wants to,” he added after a moment.
Pearl shrugged. “I’ll take the third shift, then, and Scar can go last?”
“Sounds good to me!” Scar agreed, and the knights fell into silence.
As the makeshift campfire crackled softly, spitting sparks into the night sky, the knights lingered for a while around the small source of warmth and light. For a while, there was a somber sort of quiet hanging over the group– silence settling in the empty space that Impulse usually filled.
Grian, still in his watcher form, leaned forward to gaze into the fire, light reflecting off eyes as black as the night sky. Scar glanced over, and despite everything, had to suppress a giggle.
Clearly, he didn't do that very well, and Grian looked up at him with a slightly confused expression. “Are you alright, Scar?” he asked, and Scar couldn't hold it in anymore.
He giggled, reaching out and patting Grian's face. “You look like a kitty cat!” he exclaimed, “with your big ol' eyes and everything!”
Grian blinked. “I'm sorry, what–”
Pearl started laughing. “I guess we didn’t have to worry about them being scared by our other forms then, huh!”
Grian’s face flushed a light pink, and he shooed them all away. “Oh, go to bed! I’ll wake you for your shift, Mumbo!”
The other three dispersed, laying out the sleeping bags Pearl had thankfully thought to pack. Better to be over prepared than under, in her opinion.
Sleep came surprisingly quick, though it seemed like she had just closed her eyes when she felt Mumbo’s gentle hand on her shoulder, waking her for her shift. Pearl blinked away the sleep in her eyes and quietly thanked Mumbo, before taking a seat by the slowly dying campfire.
There wasn’t much to do during a night watch, other than to sit alone with her thoughts. And that’s exactly what Pearl did, until she thought of something too important to leave floating in her mind.
The plan was for Grian and her to expel the demon from Impulse using their own magic. But where would the demon go after, when it had been forced from its host?
Pearl quietly walked back to her sleeping bag, opening the small pack she had set beside it. She rifled through the contents for a moment before pulling out a small, clear cut crystal. She’d gotten it so long ago she’d forgotten how it came to be in her possession, but it would work just fine for what she was thinking of.
Walking back over to the campfire, Pearl shifted into her watcher form, holding the crystal in her hand. Sitting down, Pearl closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling the magic of the world around her. Another breath, to feel the magic buzzing in her veins. In and out, once more, and she began to imbue the crystal with her magic.
It was a simple enough task. All Pearl needed to do was prepare the crystal to bind the demon to it with her magic. Once the demon was expelled, it would be a simple enough task to pull it into the crystal. And then, as long as she kept checking on it from time to time and strengthening the binding magic, the demon would remain sealed away.
Deep breaths. In, and out.
Pearl let the magic flow through her and into the crystal, caught up in the feeling of casting. She didn’t do it often, not like this. It was nice to finally use her magic again. She didn’t even realize how much time had passed until she felt a hand on her shoulder, and Scar’s quiet voice in her ear. She opened her eyes to look at him, continuing to cast as she did. “Oh! Scar!” She kept her voice down, aware of how close they were to the two who were still asleep. “You good, mate?”
Scar nodded. “I think it’s time for my shift,” he explained, glancing toward the sky, “and also, I felt your magic. Whatcha doin’, Pearl?”
Ah. She had lost track of time, then.
Pearl finished casting, tucking the crystal into her pocket. “Just makin’ a lil magic crystal thing. For later,” she explained. “Sorry for not waking you up. Or… kinda waking you up? Since you sensed my magic and all? I guess?”
Scar shrugged, smiling slightly. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I got plenty of rest. Which you should probably try to do as well. Big day tomorrow.”
Pearl stood, shifting out of her watcher form. “Right, then. Have fun with your watch shift, Scar. And I’ll do my best. G’night, Scar.”
“Good night, Pearl.”
The morning came too quickly, and not quick enough at the same time. There were few attempts at conversation as the knights began to break down camp, kicking dirt over their small fire and packing up what little they had taken out. Grian, who had shifted into his “normal” form to sleep, shifted back into his watcher form and took a minute to relocate Impulse and the demon.
“I can’t see him, exactly,” Grian explained to Scar and Mumbo. “It’s a bit blurry, I guess. I know where he is, I can see the magic around him, but I can’t really make out small details like his face. I don’t really know why, but that’s just how it works.”
“Sooo… like looking through a really bad spyglass, then,” Scar concluded, earning a sigh from Grian. “What? I’m right!”
“I guess,” Grian admitted as they mounted their horses, “but that’s kinda like comparing a bow to Mumbo’s rocket launcher. They do kinda the same thing, but one’s a lot more complicated and powerful.”
Scar hummed thoughtfully. “I see… well, as long as it works!”
Grian remained in his watcher form as he led the tense ride through the forest. The sky above was streaked with clouds that occasionally would cover the sun and cast the land below into shadow. As the knights got closer to their destination, the trees began to thin out, promising open fields up ahead.
“You’d think he wouldn’t have gotten this far,” Grian muttered to Pearl, “but humans have so much endurance. It’s fascinating. And somewhat annoying.”
Pearl hummed softly, her gaze fixed straight ahead. “I’m worried for his health. I’m honestly doubting the demon cares too much for Impulse’s well-being, and I don’t think it has to deal with the negative effects of what it’s putting Impulse’s body through. If that makes sense.”
Grian nodded, his eyes focused not on what was in front of him but on something– someone– far away. “Demons don’t feel exhaustion or hunger, do they?” he asked, speaking mostly to himself.
“I think some do,” Pearl answered, “but not this one. Since it’s only in the blood, y’know? And it’s only borrowing… Impulse… so that’s not it’s… well. Body, I guess.”
Grian suddenly stopped, causing Pearl’s horse to almost run into his. “We’re dismounting here,” he called back to the other three. “Impulse is just up ahead, in the fields beyond the treeline.” He dismounted carefully, tying the reins to a sturdy branch. “Right. Let’s go over the plan one more time. We’ll find Impulse and confront the demon. Pearl and I will begin casting while Mumbo and Scar keep the demon busy and stop it from running off. Once Pearl and I start casting, we won’t be able to stop until the spell is over. So if something happens– if one or both of you gets injured, let’s say– we won’t be able to help.”
The others dismounted with serious looks on their faces, tension hanging in the air so thick one could almost cut it with a knife. Scar glanced over at Mumbo, who looked several shades paler than usual. “I’m the best at physical combat,” he began slowly, “when I go vex, at least. I’ll do my best to keep it from attacking you or running away, without hurting Impulse too badly.”
“The demon will be attacking to kill though, won’t it?” Mumbo asked, wringing his hands together as he looked between the other knights. “It won’t fight fair just because we are.”
Scar laughed sardonically. “Oh, I’m not gonna be fightin’ fair, mister. I’m just not gonna strike lethally, is all. But you’re right,” he added after a moment, “the demon is gonna try to kill us. And it’s– it’s strong. We know this. But the other option is letting Impulse die, or lettin’ someone else die in his place.”
“Impulse would never forgive us if that happened,” Mumbo pointed out, “and, well, given the other option is his death…”
“We can’t give up,” Scar finished, earning nods from the rest of the group. “We’ll get Impulse back. We have to.”
Pearl looked over at Grian, shifting into her watcher form as she did so. “Right, then. Time to head out?”
Grian nodded, clenching his hands into fists. “Time to head out. Let’s go save Impulse, guys.”
The sun peeked out from behind the clouds as the knights made their way out of the forest and into the wide open field. The wind rustled the grass around them and blew through their hair, and carried with it the promise of a fight.
Grian had shifted out of his watcher form if only for a moment, just to make travel on foot easier. He was, after all, not suited for walking with those bird feet of his in his watcher form. He carefully ran his hand over his wings and plucked three loose feathers, silently handing one to each of the knights. A promise. No matter which way this went, he’d be with them.
The knights each tucked their feathers away, Pearl reaching out to take Grian’s hand in one of her own and giving it a light squeeze. We’ll be okay, the action said, I’m here.
The knights continued to walk through the field, walking over a small hill when Grian suddenly stopped, his wings extending slightly so as to stop the knights who were walking behind him. “...I see him.”
And there he was.
Impulse stood in the field, facing away from the knights, slightly below them where the ground evened out after the hill. He seemed unsteady on his feet, the sword in his hand dragging against the ground as if he had unsheathed it only to forget why he had done so, and lacked the strength to fully pick the weapon back up.
And his hands… even from a distance, Grian could tell that Impulse’s hands were covered in blood– some dried, some freshly spilt. He… couldn’t think about that. They didn’t have the time to. Not now.
“Impulse!” Pearl called, her voice strong and steady. Grian wished he had the strength to do what she did. “Impulse, we’re here. It’s okay.”
Impulse startled, nearly dropping his sword as he turned around sharply. And finally, after so long of trying to find him, the knights were able to see his face.
He looked gaunt, scared. The bags beneath his eyes were a testament to the exhaustion that plagued his body, and the shake in his hands matched the fear in his eyes. That wasn’t the worst of it– twin horns poked up from his hair, unnatural and out of place. Mumbo sucked in a horrified breath at the sight, paling and covering his mouth with one hand.
“What–” Impulse’s voice sounded strained, raspy– “what are you doing here?” Tears filled his exhausted, scared eyes. “Why did you follow me? I could– I could hurt you!” And suddenly, it wasn’t Impulse anymore, but red eyes and a straightened back and steady hands that belonged to the demon. “Yes… why did you follow him? Don’t you know?” it mocked in Impulse’s voice, smiling. “He can hurt you pitiful little things.”
Scar’s eyes shone a brilliant blue, the colour fleeing from his hair as he glared at the demon that wore Impulse’s face. “What have you done?!” he yelled, his hands clenching into fists. Sharpened claws pricked into skin, drawing small beads of blood, but Scar didn’t even feel the pain. That was Impulse. Impulse was hurting and it was all because of that demon, the demon that stood in front of him and smiled at Scar with a face that wasn’t its own, that it had no right to use.
“Oh!” The demon tilted its head to the side. “Oh, nothing he didn’t ask for.”
Eyes filled with rage, Grian shifted back into his watcher form. “Scar! Mumbo!” he called, and the fight began.
Scar held himself back from going full vex at first, throwing himself at the demon. It hadn’t been expecting the initial attack, stumbling back several steps before pulling itself together. The shock didn’t last long, and the demon was soon fighting back with a fierceness that Scar did his best to match.
Grian looked over at Pearl, meeting her eyes. “Right then. Let’s end this.”
Standing side by side, the two siblings fixed their gaze on the demon in their friend’s body. The magic that swirled around him was wrong, unnatural, evil– and it was their job to fix it. Pearl reached out and took Grian’s hand in one of her own, giving him a nod. They both stretched out their free arms, and called upon their magic.
The clouds darkened as the very magic that flowed through the air began to change, as if even the sky stopped to focus its attention on the two Watchers. The ambient magic flowed around them like a gust of air, rustling through Grian’s feathers and Pearl’s hair.
Grian's wings extended to their full span, and Pearl's followed suit, snapping open as a glowing purple eye appeared behind them. The wind picked up as the grass around the two began to glow as well, the broken portal symbol of the ancient Evolutionists appearing at their feet.
Faces set with determination, the two began to cast.
Scar did his best to keep the demon’s attention on him as he fought. It was much different than normal fights– his goal was to keep the demon from running off, all while trying to dodge the blows that were aimed to take his very life. Scar felt the vex magic inside him boiling in his veins, begging to be let free, to run wild and take over his mind. He stubbornly fought it back down– he was in control, not the vex. He wasn’t ready to go full vex again. Not yet.
Unfortunately for him, the universe didn’t care if he wasn’t ready.
The demon, by possessing Impulse, had gained every bit of the man’s strength and skill. And given the strength-enhancing magic it likely held, it was no wonder that Scar was struggling. The demon attacked again, and Scar wasn’t able to get out of the way in time. He took a heavy blow to the side and stumbled back, losing his footing on the uneven terrain and falling to the ground hard.
Mumbo stumbled back as the demon suddenly turned toward him, fumbling to quickly draw his sword in order to block the sudden attack. He strained under the pressure of the demon bringing Impulse’s full strength to bear, his arms shaking as he tried to push back. “Scar!” he yelped, “Scar, I can’t–”
The demon brought the sword down, and it was only Mumbo’s quick thinking of jumping to the side that kept him from dying instantly. The blade still sliced into his arm, and Mumbo let out a frantic scream that made whatever restraints Scar had holding him back shatter. Mumbo dropped to the ground, blood flowing freely from the wound, and Scar…
Scar snapped.
Not in the same way he had before, not at all. He was in control, and could feel the power of the vex flowing through his body as natural as the blood in his veins. Power buzzed behind his eyes as shining vex wings appeared behind him, and he shot up, taking a few steps forward before attacking the demon, the overwhelming need to get it away from Mumbo singing in his movements.
The demon turned to attack Scar, and he dug his claws into its chest and pushed it back as hard as he could, almost throwing it with how hard he shoved. He’d clearly underestimated his strength, as the demon flew back and landed hard on its arm, the sickening gunshot snap of a bone breaking making Scar wince.
And for a moment, the scream that tore its way out in response was purely Impulse, his voice unchanged by the timbre of the demon’s. For a moment, it was just Impulse, only Impulse, and guilt swept through him like a torrent.
But then it was the demon again, pushing itself back up and switching the sword over to its left hand, shining red eyes glaring at Scar as it shifted into a fighting stance once more. “Well? Fight me, then. See how long it takes for your precious friend’s body to break down and give up.”
Scar’s eyes narrowed. He glanced over to where Mumbo was, clutching his arm close and watching the fight with wide eyes. He’d be alright, and that was what was important. Lifting his gaze once more, Scar met the demon’s gaze. “Impulse is stronger than you’ll ever be. You’ll be long gone before he ever breaks down,” he spat.
The fight didn’t get a chance to continue– with a shout, Grian drew Scar’s attention back to him and Pearl. The magic around the two siblings had become wisps of purple light, swirling around the two as they casted. Scar knew with uncanny certainty that the spell was almost complete.
The demon did as well, judging by its roar of anger. “No! I will not be defeated by pathetic little mortals–!”
Scar saw it attempt to go for Grian and Pearl and dashed forward, throwing himself at the demon and bringing it and himself crashing to the ground. He winced at the impact, mentally making a note to apologize to Impulse later, when they were all safe.
“Scar!” Pearl yelled, and Scar took that as his cue to get the heck away from there.
He jumped up and scrambled away, uncaring if he looked a little undignified in the movement. He made it to Mumbo and collapsed by the man, bleeding and gasping, and turned just in time to see the spell hit its mark.
The demon screamed, an awful sound that tore into Scar’s heart, because it was Impulse, it was Impulse’s voice and Impulse’s face and Impulse’s body but it wasn’t Impulse at the same time. It wasn’t Impulse, and the eyes that bore into Scar while it tried to stand and was inevitably forced to its knees were not Impulse’s.
And then they were.
And then it was over.
Pearl pulled out the crystal from her pocket, drawing the demon’s essence toward her and binding it into the crystal. The once clear gem turned a scarlet red, and once she was certain it was sealed away, she slipped the gem back into her pocket.
A weak sob tore its way from Impulse’s lips as he gingerly held his broken arm in his other. He squeezed his eyes shut, shrinking in on himself, and for the first time since Grian had met him, Impulse seemed so small.
Scar stood shakily, helping Mumbo to his feet as well. “Okay… okay, okay,” he breathed out, making sure Mumbo was really alright before turning back and forcing himself to walk– walk, not run, he’s scared and hurt right now– to Impulse, kneeling by him. “Hey, Impulse.” He could see the other knights approaching in his peripherals, but for now he stayed focused on the injured man in front of him. “Hey.”
Pearl settled in the grass a little bit away, still leaving enough room to give Impulse space as she shifted back into her normal form. Grian followed suit, tucking colourful wings behind his back and sitting next to his sister. “Hey, mate,” Pearl started gently. “Can ya hear us? We’re here.”
Impulse let out a broken sob, shrinking in even further on himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and the words were so quiet they were barely audible. “I’m so, so, sorry.” Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, mixing with blood and dirt.
Scar shared a look with Mumbo, before turning back to Impulse. He tried to keep his eyes from drifting to the horns that stuck up from the man’s head, and focused more on his face. “Impulse… Impulse, it’s okay. We’re okay. Can I touch you?” he asked, waiting for confirmation before reaching forward and carefully, as though Impulse were made of glass and would shatter at the slightest touch, drew him into a hug.
Impulse began to weep freely then, and Scar felt himself slowly relax out of his vex form, the colour seeping back into his hair and skin. He kept his arms around Impulse, murmuring soft comforts that had once been said to him.
It wasn’t long before Impulse passed out, from the exhaustion and exertion combined with the sheer pain and shock of the day’s events– of the weeks he had been dealing with the demon inside of his head alone. It had been exhausting, overwhelming, and Scar didn’t blame him in the slightest.
The journey home would be a long one, and the road to healing stretched out seemingly for an eternity. But the knights were no stranger to traveling, and this was just another path they would have to walk down.
Together.
#my writing#boatem knights au#impulsesv#pearlescentmoon#grian#goodtimeswithscar#mumbo jumbo#hermitcraft fanfic
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Nice Kind Of Messy
Summary: Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.
Word Count: 16.7k
Warnings: smut.
A/N: So I wrote this as part of my Alex series but I figured I should turn it into a one shot so my George girlies could read it without having to commit to a long Alex Turner fic lol It took me a while to get it ready on one shot form but I hope you enjoy now that it's here hehehe xx
Masterlist
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You wake up that morning quite nervous. Your excitement makes you shiver in anticipation but the feeling brushes the line of anxiety and it’s rather overwhelming.
You’ve not been really looking to date lately, there hasn’t been any type of enthusiasm when hinted about putting yourself out there again since you got cheated on by your ex boyfriend. You couldn’t be arsed about it—the whole process of actively trying to look for a person that you felt was right and suited what you at least felt was the bare minimum was exhausting just to think about.
Going out with your friends was almost always a failed mission. They tried to get you out on the pull with them but you ended up straying back to the table and waving them goodbye when they came back with someone hanging from their arm, winking at them as if to wish them a good night.
They had only been lucky to send you off with someone a handful of times, but despite their best efforts to push you to pursue those who you had spent a night with, you had left them as that: a one night stand.
So they had used a new method this time, which entailed the fact that they had apparently been scheming about behind your back for a few weeks. You had only found out when you were having a wine night with them over at your flat, your jaw dropping and brows furrowing when they let you know they had made a reservation at a certain restaurant in Covent Garden so that you could meet up with someone they swore was the perfect match for you.
“It’s a blind date, we can’t tell you,” said one of your friends with a wicked grin on her face, sipping on her wine as you took the time to glare at your other two friends sitting on your settee.
They only offered you gallic shrugs and giggles, bubbly and high pitched which unfortunately managed to tug at the corners of your lips until they formed a smile.
A happy, “You’re excited then?” made you realize what you were doing, so you took a gulp of your wine and shook your head in disagreement as you swallowed.
“No, I’m just confused.” You really were, it was worse you didn’t have a clue who it could be because there wasn’t really anyone you think had shown interest towards you that you all knew. “Am I allowed to back out?”
You hoped you could, even if a meal at a restaurant you had been dying to go to for ages paid by one of them was on the cards here, but you were truly wary about throwing yourself into a situation where you actually had to put yourself in the dating mindset.
As you cursed your stupid cheating scum of an ex for ruining the prospect of dating for you, your friends shook their heads and said, “No.” in unison.
And they unfortunately went on to explain how your date knew about it already and had cleared their schedule for it to happen, and since you were an awful people pleaser, you sighed in defeat and agreed to go.
So there you are, slowly making your way to your kitchen to make yourself breakfast, despite the nerves making your stomach flip constantly and making you nauseous. Slowly you eat, slowly you wash your dishes and put them away.
You do everything slowly that day, taking a long shower and lounging in bed, still in your robe and letting your hair air dry. The date wasn’t until four so you still had time, and you figured if you went about it at a steady pace, then by the time you were fully ready you would have to leave and there wouldn’t really be a long space of time for you to bail out at the last minute.
By the time it hits noon, you’re doing your hair. Straightening it and curling the ends leisurely, humming along the music you’re playing on your speakers which is interrupted by a call.
“Good afternoon Miss Y/L/N, are you ready for today?” One of your friends greets you with a chipper tone in her voice, you could practically see the beaming smile on her face just from her voice.
Biting on your bottom lip, you let the phone rest on your lap as you continue with the next section of hair and shyly admit, “I’m actually nervous…”
The way she coos at you makes you roll your eyes but there’s a wave of consolation that comes over you when she says, “Good but also don’t be. He’s an absolute dream.”
The tiny piece of information actually makes you more curious about who he is, so you try your chances again as you ask, “Are you finally gonna tell me who it is?”
You had been trying all week to get anything out of your friends but they had been surprisingly good at keeping this one secret under a lock. And this time wouldn’t be different since you only get a vague, “All you have to know is that he’s fit and I know you’ll get on with him perfectly well.”
At least the reassurance that you and him would get on well eases your nerves a little. Not as much as you would like though, but that’s because you know yourself and when you first meet anyone, you get shy and a bit awkward, so you’re praying that you'll be able to get a bit of courage not to make a fool out of yourself.
Thankfully your friend stays on the phone with you as you finish doing your hair and you actually facetime her when you’re doing your makeup. She keeps making you laugh throughout it all and somehow makes you forget about how tense you had been for a bit.
Her boyfriend, Matty, comes back to her flat from a meeting right as you’re showing your friend the dress you’re wearing for the date and, to her dismay, he almost slips and tells you who it is that you’re seeing in merely an hour from now.
“Matthew!” She exclaims loudly before the name can fall from his lips and he quickly throws his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.
His honest, “I’m so sorry.” sounds muffled behind his hand and it only gets an eye roll from your friend which makes you laugh.
But you are gutted that your only chance to find out is gone that way. You whine as you complain, “Why do you react so quickly?”
Your friend takes her boyfriend’s close mishap as a sign to let you go though, completely ignoring your complaint to remind you, “You’re gonna have to get faster Miss, it’s quarter past three and it’s a twenty five minute walk over there.”
“Shit, right.” You curse under your breath, realizing you need to get dressed already and leave as soon as you can so you aren't late.
“You look fucking stunning, babe.” She states with confidence, reassuring you since you seem to start growing panicky, “I’m gonna leave you now so you can change but you have the best time Y/N/N, alright?”
You purse your lips at the camera and clutch your chest, “Thanks hun, love you.”
She grins sweetly at you and reciprocates, “Love you too. And let me know how it goes, alright?”
“Will do, but I don’t promise anything too interesting.” You make sure to make that point clear, you don’t have much expectations for the date just so you don’t end up feeling defeated for it not meeting whatever you could imagine it to be if you allowed yourself to.
But your friend is in heavy doubt of it not being interesting considering she knows who you are meeting with. So she shrugs as she smirks, “Yeah, well… We shall see about that.”
It’s the way that she looks like she’s trying not to laugh that has you narrowing your eyes at her, “What?”
Question that isn’t answered because she plays dumb and simply says, “Okay byeee! Love you!” loudly, blowing you a kiss before hanging up the phone.
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You walk the best you can in your high heeled boots which were not a great pick when mixed with how nervous you are and how far you had to walk. You had debated getting a taxi when you were locking up your flat but decided against it when you realized that if you did, you’d get there quicker and you wanted to stall as much as you could.
You aren’t even late yet, ten minutes left for the clocks to strike four in the afternoon and you are merely five minutes away. The whole walk, you had been practicing in your head whatever you could say to the guy you were meeting with, just to prevent embarrassing yourself. If anything went wrong though, you had brought your camera with you and a few rolls were stuffed in your pocket so that you could at least take the opportunity to take pictures.
In your head, you had gone from any topics you could come up with about yourself, deciding against being the one to mention your tragic love life and picking a few questions that could be interesting to ask your date.
But all the inquiries and words you had been rehearsing die in your throat when you round the corner at the end of the restaurant’s street and you see the tall dirty blonde smoking a cigarette, leaning on a lamppost right by the entrance of the establishment.
You think of making a run back to your building, hesitating which way would be easiest to go and how it would work with your long dress but his eyes fall on you before you can make up your mind and when he smiles sweetly at you, cigarette perched between his lips, you know it’s too late.
On your face a shy smile breaks and you give him a little wave before approaching him, faking confidence as you get closer until he’s only a few feet away so you say, “Oh hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”
Your face is burning up and you know he can see your flustered demeanor because he smirks down at you, and cheekily asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”
Looking up at him through your lashes, you smile harder at his playfulness and in a rush of bravery you choose to play along, “Do you really want to know the answer?”
He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke out steadily as he shakes his head, “I’m just hoping you remember my name.”
And how could you forget, “Of course I remember you, George.”
George hums, taking one last drag of his smoke as he takes in your appearance and he’s grinning mischievously when seeing the dark satin and lace of your dress contrasting on your skin, your leather jacket making you look even more stunning and coincidentally matching the one he’s wearing.
“Glad you haven’t, Y/N.” The drummer replies with a wink, dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it before taking something out of the pocket of his dark jeans, “Y/F/N sent this for you.”
An involuntary “Oh.” falls from your lips, entirely intrigued by what it can be that your friend had wanted to tell you that couldn’t be said on the phone because George hands you a folded piece of paper that only says Y/N/N x on the front.
You carefully open it, trying your best to avoid George seeing it—which is a bit of an issue since he’s so tall he can easily read if he looks down—and you instantly blush harder when you read Get the nice kind of messy ;) x
A flashback of the moment at Glastonbury when you had been gawking at George and you had let slip how fit you found him comes to the forefront of your mind and you can’t help yourself getting a little flustered at the mere thought of it.
“He’s fit as fuck.” Your eyes are unable to move from his figure, the way his muscles contract and define with every hit of the drums and the facial expressions he makes as he plays.
Your friend snorts in laughter and leans in to ask further, “Oh, so you fancy George then?”
You stutter as you try to come up with a response, “I mean… Look at him!” You’re entirely entranced by it all and it doesn’t help that he’s covered in a thin coat of sweat already, only three songs into their set, so his white top is slowly becoming translucent and sticking to his body.
It’s like your brain is shutting down and all that it can register is the look of the drummer because it takes you a few long seconds to realize your friend has teasingly said, “I’ll make sure to relay that message.”
“Oh, no, don’t.” The panic of that happening is the one thing that helps you snap out of your trance.
You watch as your friend’s face contorts in confusion and she fights your answer, “Why?! You need to get back out there and who better than George?”
But you shake your head, “No, that’d be so messy!” You can’t think of anything worse than trying to get with your friend’s boyfriend’s best friend—you cringe just imagining how that going wrong would cause a horrendous change in the group’s dynamic.
All of your worries come to a halt and you choke on your own spit when your friend smirks as her eyes fall on George, “That’d be messy, alright. The nice kind of messy.”
In an attempt to try and play it cool, you fold the note and shove it in one of the pockets of your leather jacket, clearing your throat, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it’s all fine and normal.
But George can see the way you’re pursing your lips and how you hid the note so hastily so your behavior completely betrays your attempts to be secretive about it. “What did you say?” He kept his promise that he wouldn’t open the note when Matty gave it to him earlier that day, even though he’s been really tempted too, especially when he realized Matty knew what it said because he was giggling when his girlfriend handed it to him.
You don’t give him an answer though, only a little cough that acts as a coverup of you avoiding his gaze and a subtle shrug, “Just a little joke.”
“Can you share?” He tries further, his hand coming to nudge you softly in the arm.
Not even that helps your answer change. You shake your head and say a shy, “Not really.”
“I see how it is.” George narrows his eyes at you and adds, “S’alright, I’ll remember that.” which is a promise that has you biting your tongue.
“Shall we go inside?” The drummer says then, watching you struggling to come up with a response to his previous statement.
The new question is much easier to reply to, a soft “Yes.” falling from your lips, breathlessly.
And he takes your breath even more when he lets you walk ahead, only to rest his hand on your lower back delicately and casually comment, “You look beautiful by the way. Really like that we’re matching with the leather jackets.”
The opportunity to not acknowledge the compliment is perfect because you feel like you’re going to explode under George’s attention. You giggle and nod, “What a great coincidence huh?”
His answer being, “Hot coincidence.” accompanied by a wink doesn’t make it easy for you though and you find out then that being on a date with George Daniel means blushing every five minutes even if the chat is about mundane topics.
You talk about your hometowns and the differences between your upbringings, how different it was that you’d stayed in the same city for your entire life while he lived moving around for a good part of his childhood until his family settled in Manchester. You tell each other how you had ended up doing what you were doing currently and you end up cooing constantly when George tells you how the guys became friends and how the band had come together. You exchange stories about your jobs, finally having the opportunity to ask all that came to your mind about producing music which you had always found fascinating ever since you’d gotten closer to the band. George being fascinated about your knowledge on films and everything to do with photography and cinematography, which really comes with your job as a photographer and videographer.
Then he asks about your hand tattoo—the ‘Pure Desire’ written on the back of your hand is rather enticing—smirking when he rubs his thumb over it and asks if you have any more which ends up in you both sharing the amount of ink you have on your bodies which George beat you to by an incredible amount. You end up taking your jackets off and showing each other each piece you have on your skin.
Eventually, the chat comes back to the band and you ask him whereabouts The 1975 has toured so far. Your jaw drops the more his list continues and you genuinely have a hard time wrapping your head around them being relatively new to the mainstream scene when they are already going to all those places.
“I don’t even remember the last time I went on holiday, fucking hell.” You chuckle out in awe at the information he’s just given you.
And George turns your innocent amusement into a mess of heated cheeks, pressed lips and eye rolls when he suggests how that could be easily fixed, “We just have to take you on tour with us next time, don’t we?”
“Think it’ll be crowded enough now that Matty is taking Y/F/N with him.” Your eyebrows are raised to accentuate how serious you are trying to be about it, it’s so hard to conceal how flustered you are at his insinuation.
But he makes it difficult for you to play it cool when he shrugs, “We can share a bunk then.”
“You’re such a flirt. Bet you say that to all the girls.” It almost sounds like you’re scolding him and he likes seeing the reactions he can get out of you, but there’s one thing that has been constant in the back of his mind and he decides to bring it up.
Taking his glass up to his lips, he takes a sip and gulps softly to start saying, “Surprised me when Y/F/N called me and asked if I wanted to go on a date with you.”
“God, that’s embarrassing.” You wince at the information, hating the way it looks for your friends to be asking people around if they want to go out with you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die in a ditch.
George smirks playfully, “Going on a date with me?”
You laugh in response to that, shaking your head before clearing up, “Y/F/N asking if you wanted to go out with me. You know you could’ve said no.”
He frowns at you, like you’ve just said the most outrageous thing and he wholeheartedly asks, “But why would I?”
“Oh George, stop it.” You warn him, pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes at him.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” George reaches his hand out to touch yours and you almost shiver under it.
You let your fork down beside your plate and fan yourself with your hand as you admit, “You’re making me blush.”
But that’s not something that will keep him quiet, because he confesses, “Yeah and I quite enjoy doing it.”
The rest of the date is spent between good food, good wine, laughter, a picture you take of George when he asks about your camera, and chatter that has been really entertaining and entirely not awkward like you’d been expecting. Getting to know George in a deeper way is like a breath of fresh air and that’s why, when you leave the restaurant and the drummer offers to walk you back home, you don’t even hesitate to accept.
He takes a few detours on the way, taking you around places where he had hilarious and very wholesome stories of his childhood and teenage years when he would come around to London with the lads and other friends just to mess about. You’re so grateful for the anecdotes because you’re making sure to capture each place in its unique beauty and you know now that behind each shot you’d have the memory of what George had shared with you.
George watches you closely every time you take a picture, taking in every little thing you do before and after you press the shutter. You’re so adorable to him, the way your face lights up when you press the shutter and look at him excitedly when you roll the film.
You guide the both of you back to the way to your flat and as you walk, you’re smoking cigarettes and chatting. It’s so easy to carry a conversation with George, he exudes such an energy that just makes you feel free talking about whatever comes to your mind without having to think for a split second about what you should say or shouldn’t.
And just as easy comes laughter, because not only is his laugh hilariously contagious, he is funny himself and he has you struggling to catch your breath multiple times at his quips and comments.
There is something about this evening that you just feel the need to remember as best as you can so he catches you sneakily trying to take candids of him, every time he’s called you out on it and you shamelessly lie about the frame being focused on just what was behind him—every time something mundane and boring—but by the fifth time, instead of calling you out and have you grumpily change the focus of your lenses, he allows you to take a picture of him and even smiles for you; he doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle after you’ve pressed the shutter.
The way you smile to yourself and proudly state, “I’m really gonna like that one.” makes George’s chest swell and in a lack of any more self control, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him, your chest hitting his chest eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips.
“Oh hi.” You giggle at the sudden action, your hands subconsciously resting on his chest after that, but any other words die in your throat when he dips his head and traps your lips with his.
You hum into the kiss, which is a dizzying combination between sweet and determined. His left arm stays wrapped around your waist, pulling your flush into his chest but the other one comes up to cup your jaw and he keeps you at the perfect angle for him to kiss you just how he wants.
Your arms slowly move up until they are wrapped around the back of his neck and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. It’s soft and long on the top of his head which you really like. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his fingers clutching your tighter and you let your mouth open so you can taste each other.
You completely forget where you are until someone walks past you and whistles at the two of you, startling you out of the kiss. You really enjoyed that kiss, and it shows in the way you look up at George with burning cheeks and something written on your face.
“I liked that.” George cheekily states, getting ahold of your hand and resuming your walk.
You hum, trying not to giggle when he intertwines your fingers and a feeling you can easily recognize starts bubbling inside you. “Yeah, I liked that too.”
You felt like a teenager. Blushing to yourself while you walked hand in hand with the person you had a crush on, and it’s so ridiculous but so relieving at the same time to feel this kind of pathetic elation instead of despair and heartache for once.
Your conversation resumed from whichever point you last remember it being left at but after that kiss it only gets more and more flirty, and you like where it is going but soon enough you reach your building and you have to slowly come to a stop with a pout.
“This is me.” You mumble, squeezing his hand in yours but he doesn’t let go.
He hums as if hesitant of believing what you’ve just said and instead he suggests, “Don’t you wanna take another walk around the block?”
“George, my feet hurt.” They had been hurting for a while but you hadn’t said anything just to not ruin things, and because you were enjoying his company so much that you were willing to endure the pain for a while longer.
The drummer comes to a quick solution, “I’ll carry you.”
Which makes you chuckle, “Sure you would.” You genuinely don’t want the date to end so in a bit of a rushed decision, you bargain, “Don’t you… Do you wanna come upstairs?”
He gets a kick of excitement inside him but he wants to play it cool, so he jokes, “What, are you gonna take my picture?”
You hold back a snort of laughter, and shrug as if it was fine by you that he only wanted that. “If that’s what you want.” There’s a little voice in your head that tells you not to but there is another one that purely encourages you to have fun.
“Yeah, that works.” George casually says, like he isn’t praying that he gets lucky to even get another kiss out of you.
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“Where’d you want me?” George turns to look at you as you drop your camera on your bedside tables and take your jacket off to perch on the back of a loveseat you have in the corner of your room.
You take one of the new rolls out of your pocket and change it for the one you’d almost fully used earlier that day. “Wherever you’re comfortable.” you tell him, focusing on perfectly lining the roll before you can turn to him.
“Bed’s quite comfy.'' You hear George say from behind you and when you look up to see him, you find him lying on his side, head perched on his hand and a smirk on his face. “Paint me like one of your french girls.” He teases, resting his other hand dramatically on his forehead.
All you do is giggle at his antics, “You’re such an idiot.” Shaking your head, you come up to the bed and try looking at the scene through your lenses but you aren't quite convinced by the shot.
George watches you struggle, stepping backwards and forwards, to the sides before sighing. He reminds you with a soft smile, “I’m not used to being the one to pose for the camera. You’re gonna have to guide me.”
“Okay.” Silently, you think about it as you bite on your thumb and once a vision comes to your mind, you start instructing him, “Lean into your forearms, sideways so you fit in the bed.” But you find what’s bothering you and it’s that his legs are half hanging off the bed.
“Why are you so tall? Oh my god.” You go over to the drummer and prompt him to go further into the bed, perching one of his sock-clad feet up on the bed and the other leg staying stretched on the bed. “There, now look at me.”
George looks at you with a blank face first to which you complain about but when he actually shows you a smile he starts giggling, and if there had been something you had learned about George quite early into your date was that his laugh was incredibly contagious, so you find yourself shaking with laughter as you try to take his pictures and you end up having to call him out for it.
“Don’t laugh! You’re making me laugh!” You scorn him, struggling to sound serious between your giggles.
“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes halfheartedly, swallowing his laughter until he goes back to a stoic face and he gives you the perfect soft smolder.
You hum in satisfaction at the result of that frame and then you move onto instructing him to do the next pose, “Throw your head back a bit and close your eyes.” He silently listens and does as you say which earns him a sweet, “Just like that.” from you.
Of course, your words make George give you a look, one that had you lightly blushing and since you know he can recognize the way you get flustered, you hide behind your camera.
“What?” You say behind the device, inquiry thrown out into the air, and warn him, “Don’t look at me like that.”
George chuckles to himself, wondering if you are this naive or if you are playing dumb. So when you take another picture of him, he purposely complains, “My leg’s cramping.” to then throw himself back on the bed, ending up completely splayed over the duvet and breaking the pose.
“George!” You scold him yet again, a bit of amusement sneaking through your words.
He groans in response and without moving, tells you to “Just take a picture like this.”
You kiss your teeth to exaggerate your disapproval and shake your head, “I can’t even see your face.”
“Come here so you can see it.” He resolves easily for you, waving you over to come close to the side of the bed instead of taking pictures by the end of it. You roll your eyes at him in amusement, not moving at first but since he actually doesn’t plan on moving, you have to do as he says.
But attempting to get a picture from above while standing beside the bed is an actual failure, “That’s an awkward angle, look at me.” You try to get him to turn to his side again but he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Need you on your side.” You say explicitly this time but he doesn’t let up either.
Instead he suggests, “Why don’t you just get up here?” He pats the bed, right next to his hip and you blush just thinking about it. At your silence, he opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to encourage you with a “C’mon.”
He offers his hand so you can use it as leverage to kneel on the bed on each side of his hips and hover above him. You struggle as you do so because you’re growing nervous and therefore clumsy.
“Fucking hell, George.” You curse under your breath, seeing him from above is an angle that you don’t really know if you can handle.
“What?” George bites his bottom lip to not let a smirk break on his face.
Yet, not even that keeps you from knowing that he knows just what he was doing but you won’t say anything, because you’re enjoying this a lot more than you are supposed to. So you stick to just replying, “Nothing.” as you take yet another picture of him.
Remembering his tattoos, you bit your bottom lip for a few seconds before hesitatingly asking, “Why don’t you take your jacket off?”
George lets his hands rest right above your knees and squeezes your legs as he teases, “Is that code for something?”
You hoped your flustered state wasn’t obvious so you can play off your nonchalant, “For ‘I want to see your tattoos’, yes.”
It goes right over his head though, because he keeps smirking as he sarcastically replies, “Right, right.”
You move so he can take the piece of clothing off without you hovering over him but when he’s done and laying on the bed again, he pats his right side so you can move your left leg there and have you hover over him properly again.
“How’s that look?” He asks cheekily as his hands go to touch your legs again, the skin up to your mid thighs showing because your dress slit allows it to open and rise up in the position you’re in.
“Amazing.” You breathlessly compliment, making him raise an eyebrow at you.
The shutter goes off again and, as you roll the film, he tests the waters, “Do you want to see them all?”
“Sure.” The word comes out so soft it could’ve gone with the wind, his hands leave your thighs for a second to grab the bottom of his shirt.
“Top’s coming off next then, is that alright?” He asks for confirmation first and you nod eagerly, your pupils dilating in anticipation.
He sheds himself off his shirt in the constricted space he had, you’re so spaced out that you don’t move but it isn’t a problem for George. If anything, his smirk grows at your inability to act and it gets bigger when he throws his shirt somewhere across the room and you’re left shamelessly gawking at his naked top half.
After a minute of your eyes wandering everywhere, George brings your back to reality by letting his hands come over your thighs again. You tremble at the same time as the drummer says, “Y/N/N?”
“Yeah?” You ask, slowly coming back to reality. Your brain has been completely taken over by the view of the taut muscles of his arms littered by colorful ink, a pair of symmetric ‘broken’ tattoos on both sides of his collarbones and his torso beautifully chiseled with a defined six pack.
“When are you taking the picture?” He reminds you, trying not to smirk too hard as to not put you off.
“Shit, sorry.” You say under your breath and, after quickly focusing the shot, finally take a picture of him like that.
There was a heavy silence that hung over you two, the trail of his fingers making your skin grow hot and your throat going dry at the growing need for anything at all. So you find yourself surprised when he breaks the silence to ask you, “Can I take your picture?”
“Mine?” You repeated like you’d heard wrong.
George nods and lets you know, “You look really pretty from here.”
In a feeble attempt not to have him do that, you remind him, “You don’t know how to.”
“Matty had a film camera a few years ago, I know how to.” George surprises you even further when he explains and just to try a bit harder, he pouts at you and says, almost begging, “Please?”
“Okay.” You let yourself accept, your mind too distracted by the view beneath you to even fight.
Once you hand him the camera, he lifts it up to his eyes and lets out a chipper, “Smile.” as an instruction, which you follow only just a bit shyly.
You’re about to get the device back from him when he pulls it away from your grasp and pleads, “Another one please?”
You sigh at the drummer’s exaggerated pout until it turns into a giggle and that’s when the shutter goes off. Your cheeks burn again when he compliments as he rolls the film, “Stunning.”
Letting the camera rest beside him, George tries his luck and lets his hands rub on the skin of your thighs a bit further up. You don’t refuse it, he can clearly see the growing hunger in your eyes as you look down at him so he continues, letting his gaze trail down your body to drink in all of your but when he reaches down to your legs is when he catches a slight glimpse of red ink on your left thigh that makes him ask, “Do you have more tattoos?”
He doesn’t remember your mentioning any other tattoos than the ones you’d shown him at the restaurant. So when you nod, he can’t help but ask, “Where?”
“One, right here.” You grab his right hand so he can touch over the fabric of your dress where the one on your rib is. Your eyes looking right into his and his lips opening further when you continue, “And this one here.” lifting the fabric up to show the ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.
George lets his right hand fall until it reaches the one on your thigh, you’re still clutching the satin in your first so he can fully see it. He rubs on the red ink on your skin as he stares at it, eliciting goosebumps to break on your entire body.
He looks up and asks with a low voice about the only one he hasn’t seen yet but you had just let him touch over your dress, “What’s the other one?”
“A word.” You vaguely say, as if encouraging him to continue asking about it.
“Which word?” His fingers trail further up, making your knees go completely weak. They had been hurting from hovering over him for so long but his touch is the thing to finally have you finally sit on his lap.
And that’s when you feel him growing hard in his jeans.
His fingers had already been making your every thought go straight down to your core so you’re entirely driven by lust when you fully lift the satin up and shed the dress off your body, leaving you only in your underwear and in full show for George.
It’s involuntary, his hips jerking forward and pressing on your center, his mouth agape at the sight and he grows even more breathless when you roll your center against his hardening cock.
“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, taking one quick look at the strange word on your rib before perching himself up on his left forearm to wrap his right hand around your neck and pull you in for a hungry kiss.
You lean further into him, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and digging into his hair to pull on it as your lips move with each other. Your fingers tugging on his hair made him groan into your mouth and, as payback, he tightens his fingers around your neck, earning a loud moan out of you.
George pushes himself up with his left hand until he’s sitting on the bed, his right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you flush against him. Your tongues taste each other and your breaths grow heavy when you start rolling your hips in sync, meeting in the middle and creating a delicious friction that soon enough forces you to break the kiss only to gasp in pleasure into each other's mouths.
His fingers come to graze the ink on your left rib, your desperate side having you sink your hips down to roll against him and turn his, “What does it mean?” into a gorgeous moan.
Your lips brush as he moans and you respond to his sound with a mewl of your own and when that reaches his ears, George forgets ever asking anything for he can’t wait any longer to feel your lips on his again.
The kiss grows needy then. His hand goes from your ribs down to knead the flesh of your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and encouraging you to move against him. Your clit was getting so stimulated from only being covered by the thin material of your lace thong against his jeans which means you can’t kiss him any longer.
A string of moans falls from you as you quicken your pace, getting louder as you go but your actions are interrupted when George clutches you tightly by your middle and swiftly flips the two of you around so it you’re resting on your back on the bed with him hovering right over you.
Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden change of positions, your hand flying to cup his face and bring his lips back on yours and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips into your core in a desperate attempt to have the friction back.
The feeling of his hard on coming down to rub harshly against you every time he bucks his hips forward makes your head spin. He starts off by teasing you with the friction and leaving you hanging for a few seconds before going back in but when you start gasping into his mouth, he keeps himself close to you and relentlessly rolls his hips on yours, hard cock pressing deliciously against your throbbing clit.
The pace grows faster, making it impossible for you to continue moving your lips with his so he takes it as a sign to continue on with what he wants to do first. Unfortunately, that means his hips stop moving and leave you throbbing and clenching around nothing but he makes it up to you with his lips all over your skin.
Wet kisses trail down your neck, his lips taking their time to give every bit of your skin attention on the way down. Kissing, sucking, licking. His fingers run down your sides until they clutch tightly on your hips, fingers pressing hard on the skin there and making your cry out in pleasure even louder.
Your breath is heavy by the time he stops sucking bruises all over your chest and abdomen, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on it so he can come back up but instead his tongue runs flat from just above your belly button agonizingly slowly up until his nose bumps against the hem of your bra.
George looks up at you through his lashes, teeth coming to bite on the fabric and tugging them the slightest bit down so you know what he wants to do and you desperately nod.
Without much of a proper attempt to take the piece of clothing off, he just tugs down the lace cups on it and lets your tits spill out freely for him. He groans from the pits of his chest at the sight, hips bucking forwards into the mattress harshly in search of some relief for himself.
But not letting any more seconds go by, George dives to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Groaning around it, the vibrations of the noise causing white heat to run straight down to your throbbing wet cunt.
He switches the sucking for flicking it with his tongue, blowing cold air and smirking as your nipple hardens at his actions, ending with a soft bite and tug that have you loudly saying his name in call for mercy.
You needed something, anything. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing and it’s almost torturous. But your cries fall on deaf ears for he moves onto your other nipple and repeats his process. You’re only ruining your underwear further, so wet you feel uncomfortably sticky with your thong still on.
“George, baby, please–” You plead in anguish when he starts sucking bruises on your tits, biting them until you whimper loudly under him.
“What do you need Y/N/N?” He asks sweetly, a stark contrast to his vicious attack on your chest.
“Anything. Just–” You try to say, your words catching up in your throat as your desperation for release clouds your logic and makes you sound stupid.
So you rely on grabbing one of his hands from your hips and guiding it down to where you’re aching. The simple graze of one of his fingertips on your swollen clit eliciting a pathetic mewl out of you.
“Oh sweetheart,” George tuts “Made quite a mess, haven’t you?” His pointer finger runs up and down your clothed core slowly and so faintly you don’t even know if you are imagining it.
Applying a bit more pressure assures him to hear every one of your needy sounds and feeling like you had waited enough, he leaves a light feather kiss over your center.
“Need help cleaning up this mess, yeah?” His words are sweet, like he’s finally taking pity on you. The thought of him doing absolutely anything at that moment sounds so fucking good your hum in agreement sounds more like a whine, barely able to make eye contact with him in your hazy mind.
His long tongue runs flat over your underwear, wetting even more than it already is and he moans at the taste of your slick soaking through it. His fingers tug the fabric down your legs and throw it somewhere behind him in record time. He finds himself almost drooling at the sight of you completely exposed to him.
If you had any hint of inhibitions left in you, you would’ve tried to close your legs under his attentive gaze but he’s entranced and you’d had it with waiting any longer so you prop your legs wide open and squirm in your place.
“George, please.”
Your pleading is so sweet, so desperate, he can’t deny you any longer. So he dips his head in between your legs and starts lapping at you like a starved man. At the first proper taste he has of you, he moans loudly, tongue running up and down your slit to gather as much of you as he can and enjoying every drop of your arousal on his tongue.
“Are you not gonna continue taking my picture?” George interrupts his task to tauntingly ask, going back to using his tongue on you, this time flicking it up and down quickly on your clit and making you shiver.
Your words are caught in your throat when he doesn’t relent his actions but still looks at you expectantly through his lashes, “Right– F-fuck! Right now?”
He only allows himself to stop for the amount of seconds it takes him to nod and say, “Yes baby, be a good girl and take my picture.”
That ‘good girl’ makes you roll your eyes in utter pleasure, and all you can think of is doing as he’s telling you to earn his praise; because you want more, you need more.
Your head turns quickly to see where he’s left the camera, and you bring it to your eyes to take a picture as fast as you can. Your thoughts are already becoming clouded by the tightening coil in your lower belly.
His disheveled dirty blonde hair in between your legs, his arms underneath your legs and hands clutching your thighs in place is all that you captured in that frame. The shutter goes off letting George know you have done as he’d said and he congratulates you by praising you with a proud, “Such a good fucking girl.” and a few kisses to your clit which make you jolt.
He goes back down, trying to clean up the mess of slick and saliva that’s dripping down your inner thighs and onto the duvet, but you’re so desperate so you start rocking your hips against his face, trying to steer him back to where you wanted him to be and, to your satisfaction, he follows the silent instruction by going back to your center and this time pointing his tongue and dipping it inside your sopping hole.
Your legs instinctively close around his head, eliciting a breathy laugh from him that hits your core as he continues tongue fucking you. His hands come to spread your legs open again, holding your limbs down on the bed strongly, not allowing you to move any longer.
The feeling of his wet tongue dipping in and out of you has you growing increasingly louder, begging and pleading with him not to stop, your orgasm so close you can feel it.
But despite your words, he stops.
At that very moment, you swear you can cry, knowing you had just been about to come undone on his tongue. But just before you can pathetically let your frustrated tears roll down your cheeks, his lips wrap around your throbbing clit and he sucks on it. The perfect amount of pressure for you to thrash around beneath him as your pleasure resumes and hits you with an incredible force, making you let out a string of moans of his name and then a bunch of “Yes! Fuck yes!”, hands flying down to tangle your fingers in his hair and keep him in his place.
“I’m gonna cum!” You yell out loud, eyes shutting tightly since the pleasure impedes you from keeping them open, and when George starts humming as he sucks your clit, you are done for.
Your legs tremble under his hold, toes curling and your fingers tugging his hair tighter than you had been before. You black out as your orgasm hits you hard, the oxygen in your lungs leaving you entirely as your back arches off the bed and you only come back from your high when his incessant sucking becomes too much for your oversensitive self so you pull him away from you.
He giggles, completely entranced by your fucked out state. Watching you cum had been an experience but god don’t you look beautiful with your chest heaving, bruises looming on your skin, a flush to your face and chest, a thin coat of sweat making your body and face shine.
But before he can give you any more attention, his gaze falls back to your cunt and it’s glistening with arousal. You taste so fucking good to him that he wastes no more time to lick you clean. Your legs tremble at the resumed contact of his tongue on your sensitive core, whimpers stubbornly leaving you as he goes.
Your fingers leave his hair alone but your left hand cradles his head as he laps up at everything you have given him, and after a whole minute of him meticulously licking clean every inch of skin that had been wet with your arousal, he starts a trail of kisses from your mound until he reaches your belly button.
Flashing a smile up at you, George rests his chin on your lower stomach and you can’t hold yourself back from brushing his messy hair back almost adoringly, post orgasm haze making you extra appreciative of him and his skilled tongue work.
His fingers rub circles on the top of your thighs, “Feel good?” He asks before leaving more soft kisses on your lower stomach.
“Very.” You answered with a smile, fingers brushing through his hair.
He hums at the feeling of your touch, “Good to know, gorgeous.”
Turning to see where you’d left it, you reach out to grab your discarded camera. Melting into the duvet under George’s gentle touch and his lips pressing on your skin leisurely, you really make an effort as you lean on your forearms so that you can get a better look at him to take a picture. He looks up at you with a dizzying smirk that you manage to capture, and you know that you’ll adore that picture no matter the outcome of this day.
His lips tickle the skin of your lower stomach when he points out, “Didn’t even have to tell you this time.”
Putting the device back down on the bed, you shrug with a grin sneaking onto your lips, “You look good.”
“Do I, now?” He teases, dropping his hands from your thighs and pressing them on the mattress so he can slowly push himself up and crawl his way up to hover over you again.
“You always do.” Your words come laced with lust, his eyes darkening as he gets closer and you just can’t wait any longer to have him in more ways. “Come here.” You instruct by wrapping a hand around his neck, fingers pressing on the sides of it until he groans loudly in pleasure and when he lets the sound leave his lips, you smirk and warn, “My turn.”
Pulling him in by his neck means that your tongues meet instantly when you start the kiss, and when you taste yourself on his tongue, you moan so loudly George growls just as loud in response.
The kiss is all teeth clashing, spit dribbling down to your chins, noses bumping, deep exhales sounding loudly and trying to overpower the sounds of your swollen lips moving together.
It’s George the one to grow louder when your hand drops from his neck, down his naked torso to the button of his jeans, which you undo with quick fingers and pull the zip down before you can palm him over the fabric of his boxers.
“F-fuck…” He lets out when your nimble fingers squeeze him and stroke him up and down. He’s so hard that your touch makes him shiver.
You can feel him so swollen and heavy under your hand, your mind already spinning about how big he is but you want to have him unravel under you so badly, you push any worries about his size to the back of your head.
His hips move slowly, helping with your movements, clearly wanting to reach his high but you want to taste him and you want it now. So you leave his cock alone to instruct him, “Lay down, baby.”
You switch positions, George laying on his back and you’re kneeling between his legs. He pants as he watches you shamelessly gawk at him, your mouth going dry at the clear outline of his cock.
“Fucking hell, George.” You curse as you tug on the top of his jeans so he can lift his hips up for you to take them off him.
He does as instructed and you’re just too impatient to wait any more, you want to feel him heavy on your tongue already. His boxers come off quickly after his jeans, his hard cock springing up to touch right by his navel.
You gulp. He’s thick, angry red tip already leaking from how aroused he is. Intimidating but so inviting.
Dipping your head down, you start kissing his hips. Leaving kisses that go from sweet to wet and messy the more he squirmed under you.
“You…” George pleads, hand coming down to cradle your head. Not to push it towards where he wanted you but to have you look up at him and see just how fucking desperate he is for you.
You feel that look go down straight to your core, clenching your legs together at the feeling. “I know baby, I know.” You say in a coo.
Your fingers wrap around him, the pressure of them making George huff in pleasure with his lips pressed together. He feels so heavy in your hand, veins popping for you to see how pained he is.
“You’re so big.” You trail off, a bit of wander in your voice. You have no idea how he’s going to fit in your mouth, he’s by far the biggest cock you have ever come across but you like a challenge.
Your tongue licks a bold strip from base to tip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you taste the salty arousal that has already been leaking from him. He curses under his breath at the feeling of your wet tongue on his cock, but the breathy words turn into a loud moan when you wrap your lips around him and sink your mouth down onto him.
Barely able to fit half of him in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, you pull back to catch a breath, your hand taking over for a few seconds as you inhale deeply and go back in. You gag around him when you manage to get him deeper, George moans loudly as you do so, trying his hardest not to buck his hips upwards into your tight throat.
His hand goes back to hold your head but this time, his fingers tangle in your hair, only to pull you up so you can breathe. But you don’t want to have it easy, you want to see how much of him you can take and hear every one of his pretty moans.
So you go against his hold, sinking your mouth further down and gagging around him again. Your hand stays at the base of his cock, stroking the rest you can’t get to, as you continue bobbing your head up and down on him.
George is a mess of groans and moans, whimpering whenever you gag and moan around him, your throat tightening around him driving him insane.
He lifts his head up slightly to look down at you, pulling on your hair so you come off him and meet his eyes. George is met with you panting, pink wet swollen lips, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, tears falling out of the corner of your eyes, hair disheveled but pupils dilated and a satisfied smirk at it all.
Your hand keep stroking him up and down, fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and he moans at the combination of your touch and the glorious view of you like this, “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”
The praise only encourages you more, so you lean back down and lick a strip up his cock again, this time looking up at him through your lashes. An innocent look in your eyes as you lap at the tip of his cock eagerly.
He exhales in awe, “Look at you– Shit!” He curses loudly when you sink slowly back down until again he reaches your throat, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily and making you gag loudly.
You gasp out for air for a mere second before you do it again, until you manage to control your gagging a bit better and encourage George to fuck your mouth with a simple squeeze to his hip.
“Oh fuck– Such a pretty filthy girl.” He praises as he obeys the silent instructions and rocks his hips forwards slowly and ever so slightly. “You like it when I fuck your throat?” His question is thrown out into the air in between groans.
You answer with a hum that vibrates around him and that’s when George starts feeling like he’s losing control. His hips grow erratic and you notice so you hum and moan around him even more, causing him to get closer to his high.
“Y/N/N m’gonna cum!” He warns you loudly, the wet squelching sounds of him going in and out of your mouth and your moans bouncing off the walls in a pornographic symphony that makes the scene even better.
And when your hand drops from around the base of his cock to play with his balls, he’s sent over the edge. He pushes his hips forwards and stills then as he comes, cock twitching in your mouth and his cum coating the walls of your throat with a warmth you appreciated with another low moan.
His hips fall back on the bed but you don’t relent just yet, sucking him off for a little longer to take everything you can. But he has to pull you off him by your hair when he can't take it anymore, cursing and calling out your name like he was scolding you.
“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, still dizzy from his orgasm but completely entranced by the way you come off him with a whimper and a satisfied smirk.
You wipe the drool off your chin with the back of your hand and slowly crawl up until you are laying on your side right beside him, staring right into his eyes with hunger still darkening yours.
“Feel good?” You ask, just what he’d asked you after he made you cum but in a mocking manner.
It gets you a chuckle in response before one of his big hands comes to cup your jaw and crashes your lips together.
Kissing George has you dazed. His lips are soft but firm when moving along with yours, they’re wet and swollen, warm exhales leaving his parted lips for your to swallow, tongue peeking through them to meet yours. He whimpers so loud when he tastes himself on your tongue, fingers digging into your cheek and making you mewl in response.
Your skin grows hot the more you kiss. He doesn’t even let you get a proper breath whenever he pulls back for a brief second, because he’s back on your mouth with desperation—lips smacking and tongues licking at each other.
Your hands go on a path from his face to his head, the back of his neck, his shoulders, and eventually to his back, nails digging into it when he starts nipping at your bottom lip, at the same time as his right hand drops from your jaw down to pinch your nipples, eliciting gasps out of you.
“George…” You let out in a gasp when he has your nipple pinched and twisted between his thumb and index finger.
He’s smirking right over your parted lips, amused at the way you shiver every time he goes from one nipple to the other. Your nails claw at his back when you feel the electric shocks that his touch gives you travel all the way down to your center, feeling yourself growing wetter and that familiar knot in your lower stomach forming.
His lips slot between yours again, distracting you from his touch going from your tits down to tease your cunt.
With his thumb, George starts rubbing circles on your clit, making you pull back from the kiss with a loud gasp that turns into a cry of pleasure. You could feel yourself throbbing already, and it gets worse when he picks up his pace.
He isn’t going too fast but not slow either, the speed in which his thumb rubs at your clit has you writhing your hips in response, subconsciously trying your best to get closer and closer to your high.
“George! Fuck!” You yell when he slides a finger inside you. It’s thick and long, curling inside you and making you see stars already, half lidded eyes catching him smirking at you and his breaths growing shallow when taking in your reactions.
“You like that?” He asks you teasingly, pecking your lips as your face scrunches up in pleasure.
You manage to hum in response, but he finds that not good enough, so he adds another finger, stretching you out easily and making your back arch as you moan loudly. “Yes! Yes!” You encourage, and when he curls his fingers again, knuckle deep inside your cunt, you felt yourself be completely overcome by pleasure and your words slip past your lips without even thinking of them first, “Oh my– Fuck! George, your fingers feel so fucking good.”
His fingers are slipping in and out of you with ease from how wet you are, your hips erratically moving as he thrusts them inside you to meet him in the middle. “That’s it, cum on them baby.”
The dirty talk has you completely fucked over, “George, I’m so– Fuckkkk!” You can’t help but scream out when he pushes a third finger inside you, feeling completely stuffed with him.
It feels so good how much he’s opening you up, and he��s loving the way whenever he pulls his fingers back your walls push him off so he has to slowly sink his fingers deep inside your cunt again. “I know, I can feel you clenching hard around them.” You’re squeezing his fingers so tight, his throat goes dry just thinking about how good you’re gonna feel milking his cock, “Can’t wait to fill you up and feel how tight you’re around my cock baby.”
You agree, so drunk in pleasure you just want to feel even more of him, “I need you. George, I need–”
But he tuts before you can complete your mumbled sentence, “You’re cumming on my fingers first.” You’re about to cry out like a brat, about to beg for him to stuff you up with his big cock but his words beat yours, “Come on baby, give it to me like the good girl you are.”
His voice is low in your ear, so sultry and inviting you feel it deep in your core and you just can’t say no. Not when you’re gonna earn his praise, those words he says that have you wrapped around his little finger.
So you let go. Your toes curl as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you, hitting that spot perfectly for your to see stars as you come, white heat enveloping you and taking ahold of your entire body as you cum, “Fuck, fuck! Oh– George!”
“That’s it, baby. So fucking stunning.” He encourages, watching his fingers continue to disappear inside your tightening cunt, your legs shaking and your hips moving clumsily to meet his hand. He gets impossibly hard at the sight of it all, biting his bottom lip as he moans.
You gush all over him, slick drenching his hand and dripping down your cunt onto the duvet. He can’t let it go to waste, so he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, moaning around them when he tastes you again.
So fucking sweet. He needed more.
You feel his fingers gathering your mess and you manage to peel your eyes open to watch as he sucks it all off his fingers again.
Shamelessly, you just watch as he dips down time and time again until he deems his work of cleaning you up done, the last one being offered out to you and you obey enthusiastically, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sinking your mouth on them to suck them clean the best you can. Your eyes stay on his as you do so, moaning loudly around them while you batted your lashes at him, just fully putting a show on for him.
The view makes George’s cock twitch, a bead of precum leaking from his head. He reaches out behind you for the forgotten camera and when you’re trying to catch your breath, eyes closed in bliss, he takes a picture of you.
Your eyes snap open at the sound of the shutter going off and you look at him all startled like you need an explanation.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” He quickly justifies, lifting the device back up to his eyes and adjusting the focus to take another one as he adds, “All fucked out. Fucking gorgeous.”
“Stop.” You whine when the shutter goes off again, hand coming up to grab at the lenses and forcing him to put it down, “I must look a mess.”
His head shakes in disagreement, tongue swiping at his bottom lip with his eyes drinking you in all over again, “You don’t. You look hot.” Skin glowing due to the thin layer of sweat your activities have caused, lips swollen and wet, your chest heaving and flushed, the gorgeous pattern of every bruise he’s sucked on your skin which are darkening more and more, hair disheveled and splayed over the pillows.
“I’m confiscating this.” It’s the brief ultimatum you give him, grabbing the camera and turning the action on him instead.
You take just one picture of him and he allows it, only to then complain by saying, “You have enough of me.” and taking the camera back.
Rolling your eyes, you fake being annoyed and kiss him quickly before pushing yourself up and off the bed, telling him, “Gonna go to the bathroom.” making a beeline for your wardrobe and getting yourself a new pair of underwear first, adjusting the cups of your bra so they hold your breasts again.
It isn’t longer than five minutes that you take, coming back to him wearing his boxers again and laying over the bedsheets—he’s discarded the duvet and left it a big crumpled knot on the floor by the foot of the bed—, a hand behind his head whilst the other is scrolling on his phone.
His position looks inviting, so you crawl on the bed and sit on his lap with a mischievous smile on your face. You reach out to get the camera he has placed on the bedside table at the same time as he drops his phone there and his hands go up to hold your hips.
“Put your hands behind your head again.” You instruct him softly, almost a mutter that sounds so shy, the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.
You take a picture of him like that and another when he runs a hand through his hair but you stop when his hands come back to grab at your skin, going from your waist until they softly come down to rest at your hips.
With a soft squeeze on your sides, he tilts his head to ask, “Am I allowed to smoke?” to which you nod and get off him to open the windows and get him a cigarette and a lighter.
Getting back on top of him, you place the cigarette between his lips but before you can give him the lighter, you grab the camera again just so you can capture the moment he ignites it alive.
George looks so fucking hot lighting it up: cheeks hollowing ever so slightly, brows furrowing, long fingers that make the lighter look minuscule in his hand, lips pursed around the stick.
You snap away and capture the moment he blows out the smoke upwards, before taking another drag and then blowing it in your direction.
The familiar scent of the tobacco and just how arousing you’re finding it all, impulses you to start moving your hips slowly on him. The sudden movement makes his breath hitch in his throat, causing him to erupt in coughs when the smoke goes up the wrong hole. He had been half hard beneath you when you sat on his lap, so you can’t really hold back from wanting to have him in a new way now.
That’s when you guide his hand to your mouth so he can place the cigarette in between your lips for you to take a drag. His mouth opens agape as you do so, the rolling of your hips only growing more intent and he starts twitching and getting harder in his boxers.
He can feel your heat, the way you’re wetting your underwear and starting to wet his own, the pulsing of your swollen clit. He can see how your nipples grow hard through the lace of your bra, and the way goosebumps rise in your skin as you go. Soft gasps that turn into hush whimpers that he wants so badly to turn into those loud moans of yours that he’s quite enjoying getting drunk on.
“Have you brought a condom?” You ask breathlessly, camera being once again forgotten somewhere on the bed for you to be able to rest your hands on his chest as leverage.
A flip switches inside George, the simple hint of him finally being able to sink himself deep inside you making his blood rush down to his cock.
“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and it’s a relief when you quickly get off him so he can rush to get it, not without going up to your dresser so he can put out the cigarette on the ashtray that’s laid there by your jewelry.
He had thought it was foolish of him to pocket a couple condoms before he left his flat earlier today, fully scorning himself for being so ridiculous as to assume you would want to shag after your date but oh was he glad he had still done it right then.
Condom in hand, George goes back to the bed but not without shedding himself off his boxers first. You bite your bottom lip as you get your bra off to throw it on the floor behind you, seeing him wrap his hand around his length and pump it slowly as he watches you almost naked figure. Your hands go down to your hips so you can quickly tug down your underwear, eagerly taking it off and throwing it on the same spot on the floor you had dropped your bra.
Crawling up to the edge of the bed, you hum as you watch him stroke himself up and down, your mouth watering for another taste of him. So when you get right in front of him, you dip your head down until your mouth is right before his hardening cock and sticking your tongue out, you lick at his head slowly.
He grows heavier on your tongue as you go, twitching in your mouth when you wrap your lips around him again, his head thrown back at the feeling of your wet mouth enclosed around him and sucking him off patiently.
But he has to use an incredible amount of self restraint to pull you off him, a hand delicately coming around your neck to have you let go off his cock with a pop and pull you up to face him.
“I’m fucking you now.”
George isn’t asking, he’s simply informing you and that makes you squirm under his gaze in anticipation. Thighs pressing together and eyes drinking in the way lust makes his behavior change. But you want a bit of control, even if it’s just for him to ruin you.
“Can I ride you?” You ask innocently, puppy eyes that you pray will get your a yes.
You take the way he pulls you in for a messy kiss as one.
In no time he’s laying on his back with his head resting on the pillows, teeth ripping the condom wrapper open while your hand wraps around him, waiting for him to put the latex on. The anticipation grows and hangs in the air like a heavy cloud as George rolls it down his length, sighing at the feeling of it around him.
You catch a glimpse of your camera through the corner of your eye and you can’t help but think there won’t be a better thing than capturing his pure ecstasy in a picture so you grab it before you straddle him again.
You lift the camera up to your eyes with one hand while the other gets ahold of his cock to line him up, rubbing his head on your clit and making yourself gasp at the feeling. You clench around nothing as you do so, and you can already feel yourself drenched.
Even after he’s stretched you out with his fingers, it’s slightly challenging for you to take him when you start sinking onto him.
Your jaw drops in a silent gasp when every inch of him starts stretching you out, eyes watering at the initial sting. Your eyes want to flutter closed at the feeling but you do your best to not let them close entirely so you can capture the way he groans loudly with his head thrown back as you let your cunt swallow him whole.
Breath hitching in your throat, you sink down completely until you can feel him so deep a pathetic cry of pleasure slips past your lips.
You draw your hips up and back down on him slowly, testing the waters on his size and what angle is good for you to feel the best. You’re both a mess of loud moans at the feeling. He’s so big, he’s filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before so your walls are clenching hard around him which has his head spinning.
“You–” George breathes out, hands flying to your hips and clutching them so tightly just to show how bad he’s holding himself back from just thrusting up into you, or better yet just flipping you around and fucking you into the mattress.
“Fuck–, I know. I know.” You say in a high pitch tone. One of your hands falls to rest flat on his chest and use as support, “I– oh, fuck…” You curse as you roll your hips forwards and then backwards this time, making you completely still at the insane sensory overdrive you’re getting from it.
George knows you need a second or two but you stay frozen for longer than he can hold so he pleads, “Baby– Fuck, baby, I need you to move, you’re so tight.”
“Just–” You try to say, rolling your hips again and mewling loudly. George moans back in response, his hands sliding down to your thighs as your head hangs in pleasure.
You establish a slow place, George’s fingers digging into the flesh of your upper thighs grounding you into the moment and allowing you to take another picture. A picture that captures your legs on each sides of his toned chest, his fingers digging into your skin, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps back a moan, the box tattoo on his thumb right next to the red ink of your ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.
But after you press the shutter on that one, barely being able to clumsily roll the film, you just toss the camera to the side mindlessly and use your new free hand to rest on his chest as well, and the second hand of support helps you start moving your hips faster.
It’s fucking delicious the way he keeps hitting your g-spot from that angle, and when he starts bucking his hips upwards, meeting your in the middle, you can’t hold back the noises you let out. “George, fuck baby! Oh fuckkkk.” You cry out, clit feeling a bit of pressure every time you roll down and hit your pelvis, so you’re fully drunk on pleasure.
His hands run up from your thighs to mercilessly grab your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and stinging just in the best way. “Just like that baby. You feel so fucking good.” He praises you with a groan, helping you actually lift your hips up and down on him.
“You’re so– Oh fuck–” You’re so cock drunk, your thoughts are all stupid and leaving you without even being able to finish a sentence.
“Tight little cunt, can barely fit inside you.” George can feel himself meeting the hilt inside you every time, your cries growing in volume the faster the pace gets. “You love it huh, being filled to the brim?”
“Yes, fuck! Yes, I love it, love your cock!” You’re dripping all over him, the noise of the wetness and your skin slapping every time you meet bouncing off the walls and, combined with your moans, makes for a pornographic scene you wish you were recording.
“I know you can go faster. Can you do that for me, baby?” George genuinely can feel himself not lasting any longer with how tight you’re squeezing him.
“I can, I can.” You promise desperately, wanting to be good for him. So you pick up your pace, your hands moving ever so slightly so you can straighten up a bit and when you do so you curse out loud at the new angle, “Ah fuck!”
Your hips grow erratic, your knees helping now when you bounce up and down his cock ever so more intently, enough for you to incessantly gasp in a high pitch every time he hits that spot.
“Such a good girl for me.” His hands stop groping your ass to spank you, making you jolt forward with a loud gasp that turns into a mewl and a whine that tries to pass as a ‘yes’. His cock twitches inside you at that reaction so he does it again and again, feeling your walls flutter around him with every hit, “You're squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Gonna cum all over my cock?”
“Yeah, yes…” You gasp, and if you hadn’t been so adamant on chasing your high, you would’ve noticed George quickly getting the camera and snapping a picture of you riding him. Hair a mess covering up your face but your mouth wide open in a moan, tits bouncing as you ride him, hands on his chest as support.
He’s just about managed to put the camera back down when he feels you squeezing him the tightest and that’s when you finally cum. “George! George! Ge–” You cry out his name like a prayer until it breaks down into a loud moan that tips him over the edge along with your cunt milking him dry into the condom as you sloppily continue to ride him.
“Fuck! Y/N!” George moans loudly, his hands going to your ass again to help you continue as he cums, his cock twitching the more he spurts into the condom, sweet relief making him see stars.
Unable to uphold yourself any longer, you collapse over him, chests heaving in sync as you both come down from your highs. It’s hard catching your breaths when your skin burns from the heat and sticks from the sweat. And George knows you’re rather uncomfortable from the way you groan into him, your fingers lazily trying to brush the hair out of your face but huffing as it sticks to your sweaty forehead.
He brushes your hair back, fingers delicately grazing your face and earning a soft smile and a sigh from you. But then his hold goes down to your hips so he can lift you up and off himself to set you beside him. You whine and pout at the loss of him, feeling so empty after he’s stuffed you to the brim.
You don’t even try to open your eyes, completely spent from your activities and snuggling into the pillows to find some comfort in your post orgasm haze.
George sits up on the edge of your bed and sheds himself off the condom, tying it so he can throw it away, and groaning as he pushes himself off the bed to make his way to the bathroom.
He takes about five minutes there and when he comes back into the room, he smiles, finding a sleepy you struggling to keep your eyes open and smirking at him. He giggles as he walks up to bed and after taking your camera and placing it on one of the bedside tables, he carries your bridal style to take you to the bathroom.
Yes you’re still on cloud nine after that orgasm but you still have a bit of sense in you then so, after thanking him with a kiss, you tell George you’re alright from there and he can wait for you in bed.
You only realize what you’d said as you wash your hands after peeing and you’re cringing just thinking about him being gone once you go back into the room. But you find that he hasn’t left and instead, he’s gone under the bedsheets and is waiting for you to cuddle up to him so you can get some rest.
You giggle like a fool when you get under the sheets and he hooks his arm around your waist to push you flush against him, your back pressed to his chest and he nuzzles into your neck from behind. Your legs tangle together and your breaths sync and slow down as the minutes go by until you succumb to their slumber.
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It’s bright outside when you wake up with the horrendous need to go to the bathroom, one that you’d been sleepily ignoring for a while but that had become too unbearable to endure anymore.
George has his hand around your waist and his leg thrown over yours, effectively keeping you trapped in his hold in bed, so you try to very slowly peel yourself away from him to escape to the toilet.
You’re careful so that you don’t wake him up just yet, but when you manage to get your legs untangled from his, he stirs and grumbles, “Where are you trying to go?” throwing his leg over yours again, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist making you chuckle.
“Bathroom.” You mumble as you try to get away again but he’s stubbornly holding you even tighter to him.
You feel him shake his head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, a soft “No.” falling in your ears that makes you sigh.
“George.” You say softly to not disrupt the silence in the room, but he doesn’t reply so you try again a little louder this time, “George.” Once again, no response, so you end up whining, “Babyyyy.”
To the nickname he does listen, but his response is just a muttered, “Mhm?”
You turn around in his arms with a bit of struggle, cupping his face and pecking his lips a handful of times so he takes it as enough bribery to listen to you, “Please let me go. I’ll just be a minute.”
George steals one last long peck from you before smiling loopily and nodding, “Okay.”
He lazily retracts his limbs to let you get up freely from the bed, and though he’s fighting his sleep, he manages to peel his eyes open for long enough to watch your naked figure walk away from the bed and into your ensuite.
Keeping track of time is impossible to him when his eyes close again after you leave his line of sight, and he only opens his eyes again when he hears you giggle softly at the sight of him in your bed as you walk back to bed.
“You took longer than a minute.” He points out with his eyes still closed.
You snort and half heartedly apologize, “Sorry, I’m sore.”
His hand comes up to rub at his eyes, and when he does so, he sees the state in which you’ve come back so he frowns and tells you to, “Stop right there.” He sounds so serious, an amused smirk shows on your face because you have no idea what he’s about to say. An accusing finger waves in the air in your direction and he calls you out, “Why are you wearing a robe?”
“Shut up.” You say instantly when hearing that’s what is making him frown, your eyes rolling playfully at him.
“Get that off now.” He instructs but you take another step towards the bed with no intention of taking it off and he grumbles, “Y/N/N…” with a more stern tone that makes you too flustered for this time of day.
“You’re annoying.” You complain with a roll of your eyes, still listening to him and slowly undoing the knot that kept your robe closed, making it a little show as you open it up and let it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the floor.
Of course, George smirks at the sight and he has no shame in looking you up and down with hunger now shining on his sleepy eyes, his cock twitches just by seeing you naked in front of him again. Fuck, you’re stunning.
“Come here gorgeous.” The drummer invites you back into his arms and you don't have to be told twice for you to go back to bed and be the little spoon for him. You’d had such good sleep being completely enveloped in him, heavy limbs acting like a weighted blanket on you and it was utter bliss.
But after seeing you naked again, skin littered with love bites he had left all over your, hair messy and tits perky and bouncing as you walked, George feels the need to show you a bit more of the appreciation he had shown you the day before.
His hand brushes your hair to the side so he can have access to the skin on the back of your neck. Goosebumps breaking on the skin there when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on it, fingers ghostly running down your back and stopping right on your lower back that had your back arching into him. Your ass grazed his cock every time, making it twitch and start to harden.
In search of friction, he pushes his hips forward and you reciprocate by pressing your ass against him. He keeps his actions going and sets a pace that the two of you keep up, mewling out loud when his hardening cock comes in contact with your cunt, “Hmm, George.”
“Yes, baby?” His lips brush against your skin, a shiver running down your spine and making you shudder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, please let me make you feel good.”
“Yeah…” You nod quickly, it’s a no-brainer. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he pushes his hips forwards again at the same time as you do and the tip of his cock presses on your clit.
“Yes?” He moans in your ear, hand coming around your front to play with your tits, “Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?”
You eagerly nod, swallowing a moan as he pinches your nipple and when he cup your whole tit with one hand, kneading it harshly, your “Please.” came out in the form of a whine.
“Good girl. M’gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.” His hand continues playing with your tits as you keep grinding on each other. When his cock is hard enough, you feel it come up to rest heavily between his lower stomach and your lower back, and it’s then that he lets his fingers trail down until they hover over your mound and he breathlessly asks, “D’you trust me?”
“Yeah, George…” You’re basically pleading with him to continue, hand coming to clutch his and guide his fingers down to your soaked cunt and when he feels just how wet you are, he groans and pulls away.
“Wait.” George instructs you, leaving you alone on the bed to get a condom. You hear the wrapper rip and him moaning as he puts the condom on, stroking himself up and down a few times before he tugs the sheets off you and turns you from your side to your front so you’re face down and he can hover over you from behind.
His knees are on either side of your hips, forearms pressed on the mattress next to your shoulders and he kisses and sucks all over your back as he praises you for how gorgeous you are over and over.
He keeps bruising you up until you push your ass up and beg him to do something, the ache in your cunt too unbearable.
So George lets go of the patch of skin he’s bruising and does as you ask for, spreading your legs open as he kneels in between them and rubs his tip up and down your slit.
“Don’t tease, please.” You cry into the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing and it’s painful knowing just how good he felt inside you but he isn’t allowing you to feel it yet.
But then he just let himself slowly slip inside you and his jaw falls at your tightness in that angle, “Oh Y/N/N… Fuck me.” He feels like he can barely fit in, but you’re dripping with slick so it makes it a bit easier for him to slowly bottom out.
“George–” You choke out, head turning to the side to catch a glimpse of him. Your fingers clawing at the sheets beside your head for dear life.
“I know. You’re so tight.” He whimpers in pleasure, barely able to move an inch out of you because you’re so snug it feels like you’re pushing him out.
“Move baby, please.” You beg again and he starts going then, a slow pace at first that grows in speed rather quickly and has your cursing out loud, “Fuckkkkk!”
He gasps into your ear with every thrust, and it’s soon that the sound of your skin slapping drowns the room along with your moans. “Gonna miss this tight little cunt so much.” He says into your neck, sucking a bruise on the back of it before asking, “Gonna miss me too?”
“Ye– Yes! Oh shit baby!” You gasp when he hooks his left arm under your leg, pulling it upwards slowly and allowing you to stretch a bit more so you feel him even deeper, “Gonna miss you so much!”
He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”
“Oh fuck!” You curse as he hits your g-spot perfectly from that angle, his hips hitting your ass and reminding you of how sore the skin there is from the spanking he gave you the night before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, please!”
“If you could only see yourself right now!” He curses under his breath when he looks down to see himself disappear into your cunt, over and over. If he keeps looking at how he keeps sliding in and out of you so easily, he will burst right then so he looks back up to your face and praises you once more, “Taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.”
“Harder, please.” You ask in a whine, and he stills for just a second to get a better standing on his knees before giving it to you like you were begging to, making you instantly get even louder when he hits that sweet spot with more intensity, “Oh my– Fuck! Right there, yes!”
“Just like that, yeah?” His smirk grows on his face, feeling how it keeps getting easier to slide inside you which means you’re fucking drenched and dripping all over him, your walls fluttering around him already making him see stars.
“Yes! Yes!” You chant like a broken record, the coil in your lower stomach tightening by the second and threatening to snap at any moment, “I’m so close!”
His left arm lifts your leg even higher and then leaves it there to be able to bring his fingers down to rub at your clit and send you over the edge, “C’mon baby, cum for me sweetheart!” He encourages you as he rubs fast circles on your throbbing clit, which earns him choked out moans that turn into a throat ripping moan of, “F-fuckkkk! George!”
George feels you squeeze him so tightly as you cum, making it so much harder for him to continue thrusting in and out without losing the rhythm he’s set, he can’t hold it any longer, his hips stuttering as he cums and stilling as he spills his seed in the condom, “Ah shit! Y/N!”
His thrusts become sloppy and messy as he tries to ride out your highs while you spasm around him, whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling under him and your white knuckle grip on the sheets falters.
Letting his weight fall over you almost entirely, George sighs in complete bliss and he kisses the back of your head and your cheek multiple times to say, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He drops a kiss on your lips and praises you once more, “My good pretty girl.”
The way he speaks to you makes your stomach flutter, and he feels it when you clench around him. “You like that huh?” He teases with a smirk, his nose brushing up your neck until he comes up to your ear and bites your earlobe to which you mewl in response.
He pulls out, hearing you whine when you feel upsettingly empty again but he rubs circles on your hips soothingly and asks, “Shall we go take a shower? Do you want me to help you up?”
You barely manage to reply with a quiet, “Mhm…” when a loud ringing snaps the two of you out of your wonderful post orgasm bubble.
You don’t really recognize the ringing so you figure it’s George’s phone. Yet, the drummer doesn’t make an attempt to go and get it, as he flops beside you in bed for a second before pushing himself off the bed and sheds himself off the condom you just used.
He gets up to discard it in the bathroom and just as he crosses the threshold of the ensuite, he hears his phone start ringing again. He fully ignores it again, taking his time in the bathroom until he hears you call out for him to pick up the unrelenting calls.
A grunt leaves his lips when he comes back to the room and picks up the phone only to read his sister’s name on the screen so he answers with a meek, “Y’alright?” to let her know he isn’t in the mood for the constant ringing.
You hear pure silence surrounding you for a good half minute before George sighs out an annoyed, “Fucks sake.” Opening your eyes to see him, you move onto your side to watch him as he speaks. “Right now? Really?” He asks, entirely unamused. “Yeah, really busy actually.” He says sternly, looking at you naked in front of him with wide eyes. That makes you purse your lips not to laugh but what gets the giggles out of you is when he sighs loudly and mutters, “I hate you.” to whoever it is on the phone.
It’s barely another half minute that he listens to whoever is on the other side, before he ends the call with an impatient, “Yeah, yeah. Sure. See ya’.”
“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, your fingers playing with the ends of your hair.
George rolls his eyes at the situation, “My sister needs me for something. She says it’s urgent but I doubt it.” He shrugs then, ignoring the importance of whatever it was his sister needed him for, he had only been half listening really. “I can stay though, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignore her.”
That has you snorting in laughter, “Go, you idiot.”
“But–” He tries to argue as he comes to hover over you, head dipping to steal a kiss out of you which you break after a few seconds by pushing his shoulders softly so you can reassure him it’s fine. After all, you had really enjoyed yourself so you’re genuinely considering another date with him.
“It’s okay. I had the best time with you, and that’s all I wanted.” Your hands come to the back of his head, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp softly.
George clicks his tongue and he pouts to joke, “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”
You cackle at his antics and tell him to “Shut up.” only to do it yourself by pulling him into you so you can share one last kiss. It’s sweet but it isn’t soft, your lips moving together with intent as if to prove you need to do it again because it’s just too good.
But you have to stop it before it can turn into something more. You pull on his hair so your lips separate with a smack and, with the sweetest smile and looking at him with doe eyes, you say, “Thank you, George.”
“I had the best time Y/N/N.” He replies wholeheartedly then, agreeing with your previous point.
“Me too.” You nod softly to reiterate, your hands coming back down to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin.
One last short kiss is all you get in that bed before you both stand up and get dressed. Well, George does, in the same getup as the day before, while you put your robe back on and tie it around yourself slowly as he finishes getting his shoes on.
“I’ll see you soon for a second date, yeah?” He says when you walk him to the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“You definitely will.” You assure, knowing you’d be texting him very soon about a second date if he doesn’t text you first about it.
He winks right as he opens the door, stealing one last peck from your lips before walking away. Leaving you with a stupid smile on your face that only gets bigger when you close the door behind you and go back to your room, seeing the mess you had left the bed looking like.
Yes, you were definitely going on a second date with him.
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A/N: What did you think? Hope you lot enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, I'm so excited to see your reactions! xx
Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @butyou-callmewhenyourebored
#george daniel#george#daniel#the 1975#george the 1975#george daniel the 1975#george daniel smut#george daniel fluff#george daniel fic#george daniel fanfiction#george daniel fanfic#george daniel one shot#george daniel blurb#george daniel imagine#george daniel drabble#george daniel x reader#george daniel x you#george daniel x y/n#matty healy#adam hann#ross macdonald
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“ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ.”
✸ shanks n’ buggy ✸
SYNOPSIS - Being in a relationship with 2 pirate emperors is great, but one aspect that comes with a pirates life is a pirates thirst… no, not that kind, you dog!
CW - gn!reader, obviously there’s some intoxication on both sides, reader is explicitly said to be puking, Buggy is doing some dumb shit, shenanigans ensue.
A/N - I’m back from the dead (work), ready to deliver and slowly (painfully) write my next fic (Christmas themed?)
Probably the first to get black out drunk between the two of you.
He’s been a pirate for most of his life, and drinking was a pleasure he so stereotypically enjoys!
So, when you see his flushed face and goofy smile, you couldn’t help but indulge in his silliness. Letting him play with your hair or kiss you all over your face.
But… when the roles are reversed, he’s 100% on you to make sure nothing happens.
It’s not that he thinks you’ll do something crazy while drunk, no no. Rather, it’s what others would do that scares him.
Pirate bars are filled with crude men swinging their swords around, starting rowdy bar fights which leads to terrified bar owners and civilians to evacuate.
Yes he can take care of you with a simple look- his strong conquers haki coming in play- but he’d rather keep the chance of you safe as high as possible.
“Baby… baby, I’m fine, let me gooo…”
You whines fall on deaf ears, as Shanks adjusts you in his arms once again to make sure your head wouldn’t strain. He chuckles as he makes his way down the wooden steps out of Makino’s Bar, the pounding sound of laughter and drunk men filling his ears.
“I’ll let you go once we’re at the port. There’s no way I’m gonna let you throw up on me again.” He laughs, making you clip your tongue and rub your eyes.
“I didn’t even throw up on you!” You retorted. Which brought another chuckle out of him.
He can remember that scene like it was five minutes ago. Well, maybe because it was five minutes ago. He might be a little drunk himself.
Brushing off the warnings of having too many shots, you took your 21st and started to feel nauseous. Before he could drag you away before you hurled up yesterday’s breakfast. Which happened before he could even get out a word. Leaving him disgusted, but even more worried.
“Sweetheart, trust me, I’m not taking that risk again.” He says, planting an endearing kiss swiftly on the top of your forehead, pulling away at the smell of vomit, Making his nose scrunch up.
Shanks sat you down on the pier of Foosha Village. Rubbing soothing circles on your back, letting you take your course. The night sky shined when it hit the slow waves of the sea, a sky littered with stars. A calm, serene night he loved. Especially with you cuddling into his side.
“Are you feeling better, baby?” He asked, a decimal over a whisper. You nod, groaning into his shoulder.
“Good. Let’s get you home and clean up. And maybe apologise to Makino tomorrow morning if she catches us. Other than that, we can always outrun her fury.”
You let out a weak giggle, despite you still feeling not so great. He holds you in a tight grip, sighing happily and looking up to the sky. Allowing himself to indulge in the beauty of the night sky and the beauty that sits right next to him.
“Remind me to bring a bucket next time.” He jokes, landing him a swift punch to the arm and a goofy smile on his face.
Drinking with him has two outcomes:
Either you’re having good times! A couple of laughs, maybe making some great memories that overlap with some of the more confusing ones of drinking with him.
Or… You’re doing the most batshit crazy thing you’ve ever done in your life.
WITH HIM JUST STANDING THERE.
HELLO!?
When I tell you drunk Buggy can take over the world if he so pleases, I mean it
That man has no inhabitions, no thoughts, just a pure drive to do whatever the FUCK he wants for the next 24 hours.
You wonder how such a cowardly clown can become so brave by just a couple of shots.
And honestly, you can be the same way too. It’s not hard to get caught up in all the excitement and thrill of doing shots with a pirate group and almost ending up with a broken limb.
But MAN-
It’s a really mind boggling thing… Like, you could write a psychology paper on it.
“BUGGY, DON'T YOU DARE MOVE!”
“Huh!?”
Your shouts echo the inside of his towering circus top. There your boyfriend was, drunk off his mind due to some of the finest whiskey found in the Grandline (which he happily took), and placing his left leg inside the brightly human- cannonball. He looks back at you, confused but then displaying a goofy smile.
“Aw, c’mon, baby! It’ll be so much fun, just keep watching!”
The older pirate doesn’t stop himself from doing what he wants, and fully places himself inside the cannon, wriggling around as to get comfy. One of his lackies cackles as he reaches for a match, striking it upwards and starting the fire. Your heart only beats louder and faster at the sight of the small flame.
Of course it didn’t occur to you, that the moment that Buggy the Clown asked you to be his partner, you would have to be his temporary mother when he was shit faced on most Tuesday nights.
But, it’s not too hard to keep him in place most of the time. All he wants are some private cuddling, maybe some kisses and words of affirmation. And don’t worry, when the roles are reversed he’ll do anything to help you, too.
Unfortunately today, he decides to act like a crazed toddler.
Too bad he isn’t, it would be easier to wrangle him up.
“Buggy, baby, love of my life,” You start, slowly inching closer towards the red- faced man as he stared at you with lidded eyes and curiosity. “I really need you to step out of that cannon before you blow to infinity and beyond.”
Then there was silence.
And then there was laughter. A drunken one, slurred and almost high.
“I’ll be fine, I’m Buggy the genius- fuckin’- jester! hit it!”
It was too late, the match lit the tiny rope at the end, as it quickly rises towards where the gunpowder lies.
You plug your ears and close your eyes, not wanting to even look or hear the maniac jester shoot up into the circus top’s top, rip past the fabric and blast off again.
Oh yes… again.
#one piece x reader#op x reader#one piece x you#one piece headcanons#shanks x reader#buggy x reader#red haired shanks#buggy the clown#buggy the genius jester#shanks x you#buggy x you
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Wilson thought everything would change now. The memory of this night is still fresh on his skin in form of bruises and hickies, tingling whenever he moves.
When he opens the door to his office, his heart jumps, tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
House sits on his chair, legs on his desk. Like it belongs to him, like he always does. He sips a bubble tea and wears a shirt that says "Wifey for lifey".
"Please tell me this isn't your lunch," Wilson sighs. How can anybody live off only sugar?
"It's technically breakfast," House says, slurping down a big gulp. The ice cubes chink.
"I'll make dinner tonight," Wilson announces. "No takeout tonight."
"Is that a scheme to get me to eat more vitamins?" House asks, sucking on the straw. His cheeks hollow a little. Wilson's face burn.
"You found out my evil plan." Wilson rolls his eyes. "Giving your body what it needs."
"Oh, you made sure of that." House winks at him - and really, Wilson should've seen that coming. "No wonder they all wanted to put a ring in you."
Wilson rubs the bridge of his nose. "What have I done?" he mumbles, more to himself than House.
"It's called anal sex," House explains, so loudly half of the hospital can possibly hear him. "And a blowjob, rimming and -"
"Jesus," Wilson interrupts. "I know that."
House grins. "No worries, we'll never marry."
That hurts more than it should. Wilson knows House can see it on his face.
"Because then you can never divorce me," House says, almost softly.
Wilson's heart might explode and he isn't sure there's a medical condition that explains feeling nauseous and happy at the same time.
House empties his bubble tea. "So, no to engagement rings, but what about cock rings?"
Fuck, Wilson loves him. "House-"
#jokes's on wilson because house forged the papers and they are married (have been for months now)#hilson#james wilson#gregory house#house x wilson#house md
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Request where reader and Peter are married and on vacay she’s been trying to hide she’s sick because she’s pregnant and she tells him at dinner 🤗
cute cute cuteeee!! this turned out longer than i’d expected 😳 kinda proud of it!
pairing ➳ peter parker x reader
requests are open
masterlist
peter parker, your husband, was as bad at connecting the dots as he was at keeping secrets. usually he was the one who’d sneak around. at a time you didn’t know about his alter ego– spider-man– he used to hide his costume and his web shooters but now he did it with the bruises littering his face. he would steal your concealer on various occasions and try to cover them up. however, you’d know about them reinstating his inability to hide things, especially from you.
but this time, it was you. you were keeping a secret and not just anything.
you were pregnant.
but not quite ready to tell peter, not knowing how he would react. it wasn’t like you guys hadn’t he married for three years and known each other for all eight of them, but having a kid together was quite a big deal.
it was hard to keep a secret. even though peter would never guess, you didn’t want him to mistake your morning sickness for something serious and fuss over it.
it was harder to keep a secret from peter when you two were supposed to be under the same roof for most part of the day.
tony had decided it was time all the avengers had a break so he’d flown everyone to bali. so now you were laying beside him in this extraordinarily expensive hotel room as the morning sun peaked in through the curtain.
you rubbed your eyes, shifting slightly as the first thing you felt was the weird taste in your mouth. and you just had to make a run for the bathroom before you puked all over the soft, lavish carpet under your bed. peter woke up with a jolt when he felt you throw his arm away from your body. he watched with sleepy eyes as you slammed the door to the bathroom.
“babe?” he hurried out of the bed. he could hear you retching on the other side of the door, “baby? what’s wrong?”
“it’s nothing!” you responded, “be out in a minute!”
it took you around two minutes to collect yourself back and brush your teeth before you made your way out of the bathroom. not so much to your surprise, peter’s hands grabbed both your shoulders as soon as you opened the door, “is it food poisoning? maybe it was the hotdog we had before dinner. it must be that! don’t worry, i’ll get you medicines.”
he started leaving but you stopped him, “peter, wait!”
“what?” he turned around.
you wish you could tell peter now but this just didn’t feel like the right moment. you sighed, “you’re not um, wearing any pants.”
“oh. right, silly of me.” your husband chuckled sheepishly as he grabbed his pair of pants that he’d left on one of the armchairs in the room.
you were sure peter would have found out in a week when your baby’s heart started beating, anyway. you felt a little ridiculous as you took the medicine from his hand and assured him that you would take it before you sneakily flushed it down the toilet.
peter noticed you being weird at breakfast too. you poked around at the salad in front of you. the smell of olive oil was making you nauseous itself and you were sure you’d have to rush if you had it. you would really go for a burger right now. honestly, you weren’t up for running three flights of stairs.
peter placed a hand over yours, running his thumb over the ring that rested on your finger, “hey, you okay? did the medicine not work?”
you gave him a shrug, “not hungry.”
“take it easy, parker.” wanda interjected, “just get her a burger and some fries.” she gave you a wink before taking a bite out of her bagel.
she knew.
you gave her a small smile.
thankfully peter took wanda’s advice and got you some fries, a burger and an added milkshake, which made you love him even more than you ever thought you could. you threw your arms around his shoulders as he placed the brown bag containing your breakfast on the table back in your room.
peter hugged you back as he smiled. however, his smile quickly faded away when he felt your shoulders shake against him, “y/n, are you-”
his sentence was cut short when you sobbed into his chest. his hand instantly wrapped around you protectively, “baby, what’s wrong?”
you just shook your head as you continued crying. peter rubbed your back until you calmed down. you pulled away to wipe your tears while the brunette’s arm remained intact around your waist, “i’m sorry.”
“you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” he said as he tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, “is everything okay though, hun? you’ve been acting kinda... weird. which isn’t bad, i-i mean, i’m just worried about you.”
“i’m okay, peter. i just got a bit emotional.” you gave him a little smile.
he nodded, though still unsure.
peter was nothing short of a delight for the whole day after that. he served your breakfast for you and even denied going to the beach with the others because you didn’t feel like going, even though you’d told him you’d be fine in the hotel room. then you two spent the day watching disney movies.
in the evening peter asked you to get ready for dinner and you were a little confused because you thought you two were going to go downstairs and have dinner with the gang. but peter insisted you get ready so you did.
peter then took you to the beach and the two of you walked until a candlelit table was in front of you. you gasped with joy, “remember our first candlelight dinner?” peter asked as he watched your smile grow.
“i do! i was so nervous.” you chuckled.
“you were nervous? i was freaking out! i didn’t know what to speak. you looked so gorgeous.” peter gave you a small smile, “you still do.”
“you’re way more gorgeous.” you gave him a little kiss, “oh my god. i just remembered i spilled wine all over your favourite shirt that day.”
peter laughed. and just like that, you knew. this was the moment. it was your chance. you didn’t wanna wait for peter to figure it out himself or for him to hear the baby’s heartbeat. you wanted him to hear it from you.
the two of you sat down and peter ordered your favorite for both of you. you smiled, watching you two’s fingers interlaced. peter ran his thumb over your ring finger, a habit of his that made your heart swell every time.
“peter?”
“yes, beautiful?”
“there’s something you gotta know.” you stated as your heart started beating a little faster.
“what is it?” peter asked, giving you his fill attention, a look of concern etched over his face.
“i’m... uh, i’m pregnant.” you stated, watching his face for any major expression.
“yeah, what about that?”
“i know! i couldn’t believe it eith- wait what?!” your pupils enlarged in surprise.
“you’ve been pregnant for around five weeks, what’s new with that?” peter asked.
him being so confident made you doubt if you’d already told him. peter laughed softly at your confused expression. you looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “is this funny to you?”
“no! no. not at all.” peter gave a little squeeze to your hand.
“how’d you know?” you asked, your expressions softening.
“well, i noticed the little changes your body was going through.” peter explained, “and i found the pregnancy test you forgot to throw out.”
“oh shoot-” you facepalmed, “that’s so stupid.”
“hey, it’s alright.” peter chuckled, “i would have probably been worse at keeping a secret like that.”
you laughed, “guess we’re both bad a keeping secrets.”
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#tasm!peter fluff#tasm!peter parker fanfiction#tasm!peter x you#mcu!peter x reader#mcu!peter parker#peter parker x y/n#peter parker fluff#peter parker fanfiction#mcu peter parker#mcu spiderman#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter parker fic#tasm!peter x y/n#tasm!peter fic#tasm!peter parker fluff#tasm!peter parker imagine#tasm!peter imagine#peter parker imagine#marvel#mcu#spider man#spiderman x reader#mcu!spiderman x reader
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Someone asked for my snap as a joke today so uh, here's me projecting onyo Phantom cause why the hell not:
(Set in a ghouls were human before becoming ghouls universe)
When Phantom was human, he often got asked out as a joke, a cruel joke. He didn't think much of it until he got older, then it started bothering him. Constant thoughts of "Maybe if I looked better it wouldn't be a joke." Or if he was watching a tv show or movie and someone got married, instead of thinking "I can't wait for that to be me." He thought, "That will never be me."
He died an unfortunate death in a car accident, leaving him to never truly have had love as a human. In the put, it's no different. He's still alone. No pack wants a clueless kit that's just an extra mouth to feed.
So when he's summoned, he thinks, "It'll be the same." So when he's genuinely offered physical affection (hugs, kisses, ect), he declines. He declines even quicker when asked to be in the pack. He's seen how they act together. That's not the treatment he gets. It must be a joke, right?
When he finds out it's not, he still has a hard time believing that any of his packmates actually want him.
-🤭
i'm actually gonna throw hands. you're one of the loveliest people i know. i hope this will make you feel a bit better <3 i'm sending all the hugs to you
TW: a flashback to phantom's death (as described in the ask), low self esteem, self hate, self doubt
when phantom got summoned it was like dying again, he doesn't remember much from his life, he remembers the feeling of dying though, how it went down.
he could faintly hear the radio, that song that he didn't know the words of, the way that car crashed into his, the way his head spinned, they way everything hurt, and then hurt even more.
being summoned was maybe even worse, but just like death, he got through it.
and he got a friend out of it, she said her name is aurora, and phantom think it suits her, the way she is just so, there is no other word to it but, her. he adores her, loves her even, and sometimes he just wishes he was enough for her to just like him.
it started in a subtle way, she held his hand when they were walking through the den, and then she did it again, and again, until it became part of a routine for phantom.
and that's when she stopped doing it.
he looked at the place between them, at aurora's hand, as he felt his heart shutter just that tiny bit.
he know that he felt that before, as a human. he knows that he died alone, unloved, that's why, when phantom got his name, He told him that he'll always have the stars with him. that phantom will never be alone.
but in the pit nobody wanted him, they loved to tease him im that curle way too, making him feel like he was finally a part of a pack just to wake up alone and left without nothing.
it never felt like he was among the stars, it just hurts.
and so he left his hand in his pocket, until he stopped walking with aurora, it's okay, even though it pained him, she was still so happy without him there, she probably never wanted to hold his hand in the first place. he isn't the kind to be loved just because.
but then aurora started to look for him, and it wasn't just her too, it was the other multi ghoul too. swiss and aurora didn't like that he was alone almost every hour of every day, they wanted to be around him for some stupid reason that they haven't told him yet.
and then, one morning when he walked through the den, sleep still holding on to him, aurora walked towards him, she wanted to get breakfast together she said, and she tried to hold his hand again. he didn't let her, phantom untangled their hands in less than a minute and buried his in the pocket of his sleep pants. he isn't the type anyone would want to hold hands with, not even in a completely friendly way, and especially not in a romantic way.
and in the end swiss held her hand, and phantom felt nauseous.
then came mountain, he's a nice giant, he's quite around too many people, but when it's just the pack he loves talking.
phantom was asked to work in the greenhouse, especially because the infirmary was too familiar to him, made him start to remember bits of his life as a human. and besides, mountain is nice to be around.
or at least it was like that before he called him "bug".
the first time it happened, they were near their rooms and phantom just turned around and locked himself on his room for the night. he didn't know why he was crying.
the second and last time it happened was in the greenhouse, the nickname came out so easily, so naturally, from mountain's mouth that phantom felt like he was going to cry again, because what if mountain calls him that to the others? or what if he just want phantom to trust him, to be his bug, just to squeeze him down like an actual bug, to remind him that he'll never be loved in any way?
all he says is "please don't call me that." and keeps working, not seeing mountain's sad eyes and how they follow him until the night comes.
then there was dewdrop. he's a strange one.
when phantom and aurora were summoned he told them that he's just hurt, he doesn't want to take any of this on them, he'll come around sooner than later, it's not their fault.
but phantom knows it is his own fault, because aurora and dewdrop became friends, pack, already. phantom hadn't.
he isn't a part of the pack, not like it bothers him anymore, he knows how to not be a part of a pack. and dew is still so cold to him.
so yes, it is phantom's fault, and he knows it well.
and maybe that's why tonight confused him so much.
he was just sitting in the garden, just resting a bit, just being by himself like he always was, when a sibling of sin came to him, the sibling looked nice enough, so phantom stayed put.
and then the sibling started talking, telling a bit about themselves, before asking phantom about himself, but phantom wasn't in the mood for words so he just shrugged, that's when the sibling came closer to him.
"you're pretty..." they said, their hands holding phantom's mask, as if they wanted to lift it before they let it go, "... pretty useless." they sighed tiredly, and phantom's eyes widened.
he is pretty useless, isn't him? not bonding with the pack, not being good enough to be in the pack, not even being able to love himself, so why should others love him? he isn't just useless, he's completely worthless, damaged good except he was never good, so maybe just damaged.
but then something, someone, growled from behind him, and the next thing he knows is the the sibling is on the ground and dew's hair swinging behind him as he jumped on them, his eyes locked on phantom's and something in them was just.....
#jester rumbling#lovely 🤭 anon#the loveliest 🤭 anon#ghost#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#phantom#phantom ghoul#aurora#aurora ghoulette#swiss#swiss ghoul#mountain#mountain ghoul#dewdrop#dewdrop ghoul
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i hope you're doing well, my dear lettie <3 for the six sentence prompt ask game, might i request silver getting sick at school and lilia dutifully cuts class to take care of him? 🥹
"Oh— oh, watch yourself, love—"
The hand on his arm is sure and steady, and it is the only thing that keeps Silver's knees from buckling away beneath him as if he were wobbling around with transfigured sea legs, jellified and weak.
It's a familiar touch, one that he would know even in the deepest of slumbers. He doesn't need to lift his heavy eyes to know who has seemingly materialized out of thin air to support him, and because Silver is, still among all things, a child, it takes no effort at all to slump his head to the side and rest his forehead against the waiting curve of his father's shoulder.
" . . . now, what am I to do with you?"
Silver was sick.
And not the average, runny-nose and scratchy cough kind, but the roiling shower steam nausea, feverish kind— the kind that felt as if little craft fairies with lead hammers had taken up residence in the hollows of his bones and the aching sinus pockets behind his eyes, and were banging incessantly on his raw nerves with vicious, unmitigated glee.
Morning classes had been an absolute misery of sensory havoc, his mind distracted and his glazed eyes slipping shut with even more forceful vengeance than usual. His pen had scrawled aimless lines across the blank notebook pages, and even Trein had spared him a pitying glance, not that Silver had realized it, for his flushed cheeks and obvious disorientation.
(Neither had he noticed Kalim's repeated concerned glances, nor the way that his friend kept tapping on his cell phone with a worried twist to his perpetually upturned lips.)
It was little wonder then that as the students streamed in eager droves out of their lecture halls for lunch, Silver chose instead to attempt a shuffling escape towards the Mirror Hall, towards Diasomnia and the promise of a timed catnap in the gloomy embrace of its dark, cool corridors before the rigor of his afternoon classes could begin.
He'd been rather foolish to believe he'd make it there unaided with how the stone floor beneath him started to wink closer, the sinking realization tugging at his stomach that he was beginning to plummet down to meet it without resistance, until a presence unannounced had swooped in by his side.
So focused now on attempting to wrangle his breakfast into submission before it inevitably made a second, less pleasant appearance upon his father's uniform, he hardly notices until too late that the ground has disappeared under his very feet with a swiftness that spares him the nauseous threat. Bleary eyes blink past the invisible weight pressing insistent fingers against them, and Silver manages to find a glimmer of incredulity among all of his slippery, pounding thoughts as he stares up at the fae cradling him in his arms as if he were all of five again— and smiling as pleased as punch, in the middle of the grand hallway no less.
". . . Father— !" he doesn't even think to correct himself as he croaks out the beloved title, utterly at a loss as to what the fae could possibly be thinking. "Father, please, put me down! Someone might see—"
"And see what?" His father's eyes sparkle down at him with mischievous delight, but it is not enough to mask the darker currents of worry that linger there, stealing the rest of the sputtering arguments from Silver's mind. "That I'm caring for my adorable junior classmate as a good vice housewarden should?"
His mouth opens and closes more uselessly than a fish as he stares without a rebuttal at the self-satisfied fae, unable to come up with a worthwhile protest in the sluggish cogs of his mind.
The rambunctious cacophony of their fellow classmates echoes from further down the hall, and Lilia's smile creases into something tender and private, an expression reserved for Silver and Silver alone as those clawed fingertips drift soothingly through his sweaty bangs. There's no magic that glitters from his touch, and yet Silver's eyes find themselves drooping instantly just the same, his head tucking forward to rest against his father's chest where that heartbeat reverberates like a lullaby in his ears.
"Come on, dear— let's get you back to bed."
#lettie's asks#lettie writes#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland silver#twst silver#lilia vanrouge#twst lilia#diasomnia#THIS GOT CARRIED AWAY FROM ME#BUT ALL OF OUR HURT/COMFORT SICK FLUFF CHATS SEIZED ME AND WOULDN'T LET ME GO UNTIL I WROTE IT#JUST SOMETHING A LITTLE SILLY#please enjoy resident bat!dad doting on his baby boy <3#burying him under blankets in lilia's bed and forcefeeding him [redacted] soup
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Secret’s out | Chris Sturniolo x y/n
if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it
word count: 1.7k
warnings: reader is drunk, reader is hungover, reader throws up, reader cries, ?
summary: you accidentally reveal you and Chris’s relationship to the public
You giggled as you walked out of the bar, drunk off your ass. You never drank much, and then when you started dating your completely sober boyfriend Chris you drank even less because it felt like the right thing to do in your opinion. He told you he didn’t care as long as you let him know and that you told him who you were with and that there was a designated driver.
Tonight, you convinced your designated driver to have a few too many shots and ended up drunkenly texting your boyfriend “Git Jen drunj. Pick ud up!’?” You couldn’t really see straight but you were pretty sure you got it right (Chris barely understood what you had typed).
10 minutes later he was outside of the bar, a sleepy but content Matt in the driver's seat park a little far away because the bar parking was packed. You’d feel terrible in the morning finding out you made him drive unnecessarily this late but he’d rather get you home safe than leave you to get home on your own.
“Hey, y/n” he said as you stumbled out, a drunken smile on your face as you looked at him with heart eyes. “No princess? I’m not your gorgeous girl anymore?” You slurred, tears filling your eyes. “Y/n, we’re in public” he said softly, brushing your hair back.
You sighed and said “it’s okay! It’s night time! People are sleepy!” You groaned and grabbed his face, kissing him softly. He initially wanted to cringe at the taste of vodka on your tongue but then you started to caress and squeeze his neck and he melted.
“Mm- mm mm shit- babe! Come on” he said and pulled you away from his face. You looked up at him with a pout, your eyes glassy. You sniffled and said “you don’t…you don’t looove me?” “No, baby I love you so much, I do. Let’s just get home” he said and you continued to pout.
“You don’t love me…” you said, looking down and folding your arms. He sighed and said “my gorgeous girl-” “no don’t call me t- that. Y-You won’t kiss meee in public” you said through hiccups. He cupped your cheeks and lifted your head up.
You looked up at him and he pecked your lips quickly and you smiled. He smiled too and said “let me pick you up. The car is a far walk away” You yawned and he scooped you up, walking down the street to take you to the car.
You kept kissing him but he wasn’t super anxious about it because it was so late he thought it wasn’t possible anyone would catch you two. He put you in the car and you slept with your head on Nick’s lap, snoring a little which made Chris unable to keep his eyes off you.
Nick rolled his eyes and said “this is so disgusting” “shhh! You’ll wake her up” he said, reaching over to stroke your cheek. You smiled a little, a sleepy whimper coming out as you curled up even more. He blushed and Nick sighed, making Matt giggle.
You got home and clung onto him the whole time, making him carry you all over the house as you giggled into his neck and kissed all over his face. He sat you down on the counter and wiped off your makeup and gave you some medicine to hopefully help when you wake up with a hangover.
When he finally got you in bed, you fell asleep almost immediately, cuddling into him once he got in bed too. He kissed your head, rubbing your warm back and listening to you mumble in your sleep, blushing when you said his name.
When you woke up you were really nauseous, and Chris was already downstairs making breakfast. You cringed even more at the smell and said “baby?” as you rubbed your eyes and yawned.
He turned around and smiled at how cute you looked with your puffy little lips and messy hair. “Hey,” he said, kissing your cheek. You groaned, hugging him tight. He picked you up and said “you feeling sick?”
“Yea” you said, sighing softly. He set you down on the counter next to him and you said “what are you making?” “Just eggs and toast” he said and you smiled. He handed you more medicine and you kissed him as a thank you.
“Gross!” Nick said, coming downstairs. You blushed and said “shut up, loser” Nick scoffed and threw a sock at you. Chris covered you and said “hey, stop” You nearly swooned, Chris was so ridiculously protective and it genuinely made you melt. He was standing up to his own brother who threw a tiny little sock at your leg of all places simply because he didn’t want anything bothering you.
Matt came downstairs and dapped you up, groaning when you ruffled his hair up. Chris gave you breakfast and stood between your legs as you fed him half of your breakfast, even though he kept trying to make you eat.
“Guys? Have you checked your phones?” Nick said and you shook your head. Chris grabbed his phone and opened it checking Instagram, assuming maybe there was some new update “I don’t understand, nothings different” he said and Nick showed him a tiktok.
Your stomach dropped, you could see the two of you outside of that bar last night and then you started kissing on him and practically hanging off of him and then you watched your pouting and then he picked you up and you two kept kissing and just kept on fucking kissing.
You jumped off the counter, running up to his bedroom. You locked the door behind you, breathy and strained whimpers leaning your mouth. You knew you’d fucking do this. You’d fuck up and ruin everything and expose your relationship before Chris wanted to.
Your chest felt so tight, you could barely fight the tears because of how upset you were with yourself. “Baby! Baby, hey it’s okay. I’m not upset, can you please open the door” he said and you sighed shakily. You felt so nauseous now, you ran to the toilet and threw up.
The stress combined with your hangover didn’t mix well, and you felt like crap. Chris managed to jiggle the cheap lock open, and ran to your side in his bathroom. “My love, hey, hey it’s okay breathe” he said and rubbed your back, holding your hair.
You groaned and coughed a few times, your entire body shaking as you tried to push him away. “Stop it,” you whined, you didn’t want to see him because you didn’t want him to be mad at you or break up with you.
“No, you stop. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere” he said and you shook your head, sighing as you flushed the toilet. You stood up and brushed your teeth, your entire body vibrating.
“Honey, why are you shaking? Everything is gonna be fine” he said and you just ignored him, you didn’t want to talk about it and you were so sick of him always pretending that he’s not mad at you. He’s never once gotten upset with you and you just can’t stand it. Why is he so calm around you?
You tried to leave the bathroom but he stopped you, picking you up and placing you on the counter. “I’m not upset wit-” he said and you rolled your eyes, trying to get off the counter and away from him. He scoffed and said “Y/n, what the hell? Stop fighting me”
“No, you always do this! Every time I fuck up or something you just talk to me and that’s it you never yell at me or get angry you’ve never even breathed differently when I did something wrong, and this is as bad as it fucking gets. Why can’t you just get mad at me and why the hell are you still with me?!?” You yelled, your vision was so blurry and you almost couldn’t hear or something, and holy crap your mouth was dry.
“Y/n, hey, hey look at me,” he said and you locked eyes with him, looking around his face frantically and trying to blink away the blurriness. He gently grabbed your hands and breathed with you, talking to you so softly and bringing your mind back from the panicked state.
He’s weirdly grateful that growing up with Matt taught him how to also help you when you had moments of anxiety or even attacks like this one. He was holding you now, and you weren’t fighting him, which told him you’d given up.
“I don’t get mad at you because I don’t like to see you upset or sad and I don’t want to make you sad either, I think it’d kill me. I love you too much to want to be angry. Yelling and screaming isn’t healthy, either, you know? At least not every time you make a mistake. I understand when you do it it’s because you can’t help it and need to let it out. You don’t get mad at me nearly as often as you think, by the way” he said and you shook your head.
You sobbed and said “this is really bad…” “then so be it, my love. I don’t care who knows. At least I can kiss you in public now and touch your butt whenever I want” he said and you giggled, looking up at him.
“I’m sorry,” you said, more tears streaming down your face. He wiped them away and said “don’t be sorry. You didn’t know what you were doing, plus you were too cute for me stop you so it’s also my fault” you rolled your eyes and Matt and Nick popped into the room.
“Hey…” Matt said awkwardly. They got overly worried and couldn’t help but creep up to check on you two. Based on the fact that the door was opened the assumed things were decent. Chris looked over and said “it’s…it’s fine. We’ll deal with it. I’m not gonna let something so stupid make us so upset”
You sniffled and buried your head into his chest, the embarrassment of knowing everyone can see a video of you hanging off of Chris and kissing all over him like some clingy teenage girl hitting you like a truck. Nick chuckled at you and you flipped him off.
“Now you guys can kiss whenever. My life is ruined” he said and you giggled again. You played with his hands nervously and shoved Nick playfully. You stuck your tongue out and Chris shook his head as you said “you’re just jealous!” “Alright, babe, real mature” he said and kissed your head.
As of now l'm writing for
Eddie Munson
Lo’ak
Neteyam
Sebastian Stan
Bucky Barnes
CW!Bucky Barnes
Chris Evans
Geralt of Rivia
Henry Cavill
Chris Sturniolo
So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)
#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x fem!reader#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo fluff
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