#but then i slowly got back into the swing of things
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Not Like The Movies
Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader
Fandom: Fallout
Request: Yes by Anon
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Violence
Word Count: 1,688
Main Masterlist: Here
Fallout Masterlist: Here
Summary: How Cooper got landed with someone of her sunny disposition, he will never now. And it does not help that she knows his films.
“Good morning, you cutie. Oh who’s the best little girl ever?” A feminine voice brought Cooper out of his deep slumber. His eyes had to adjust to the bright light outside that flooded the building they had stayed the night in. He looked around for the source of the noise and was relieved to see it was just his partner playing with DogMeat. The man sat up from the bed that was miraculously in the building that probably used to be someone’s house and began to roll the sleep from his muscles and bones.
“Well, good morning to you, cowpoke.” She greeted, allowing the dog to roam around wherever she pleased.
“Mornin’ sweetheart. Whatcha doin’ up this early?” He asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His boots hit the floor right next to where his partner was, as she sat up on her knees to pull him in close. Physical affection was something Cooper was still not used to after all this time, but he was slowly coming around to it. All of the affection happened behind closed doors, or in this case, a closed house. He still had an image to maintain after all.
“Couldn’t sleep, so I spent some time with Bella.” She said cheerfully into his chest. Cooper just sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Don’t go naming the thing. Then you’ll get too attached and then you’ll be depressed when it dies.” He groaned out, shifting their bodies so their eyes met.
“But she can’t be named ‘DogMeat’. That’s not a proper name,” came her cry. She laid on the puppy eyes really thick.
“DogMeat is a proper name because that’s what it is.” He argued back, tilting her head up by her chin.
“Fine,” she relented, and smushed her face back into his chest. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Well, gotta head into town now. Stock up on some supplies, gather a new bounty hopefully.” Cooper pressed a kiss to her hair, and shuffled so that he could pull both of them up to stand.
“You gonna behave when we get into town?” He drawled, voice leaning into dangerous territory. His partner giggled and nodded her head.
“Of course, Coop. When am I not?” She inquired, biting her lower lip. That woman knew the easiest way to get Cooper riled up was to do just that motion right there. Because, in an instant, his eyes were locked on to her lips.
“What about back in Filly where you kept smilin’ at folks, leaving me to save you from someone’s fist in your face? Huh?” Howard recalled, watching her shift in his arms as she, too, recounted their last adventure into town.
“How was I supposed to know?” Her whimper made Cooper weak, but he had a job to do today.
“Just tone down the sun a little bit, alright? Maybe a nice cloudy day instead of bright ass sunshine.” He offered, bringing her face back up to his. She nodded and stood on her toes to reach his face. Cooperate, ever the gentleman, met her halfway and locked their lips together. They moved as one, letting their lips slide across the other’s. Hands roamed freely, and it was starting to look like they were not going to be making it to town soon. That is, of course, until DogMeat came back in the room with a dead iguana in her mouth. She dropped it on the floor, and pawed at the man and woman who were locked in their embrace. The Ghoul groaned as his partner detached them in favor of tending to the dog he claimed he did not want.
“Good girl. Such a good hunter.” The baby voice was back. Seeing that the dog was getting the attention now, Cooper moved to grab all of his effects from where they were strewn about the room. His duster sat upon his shoulders, while his hat found its spot on his scarred head.
“Come on. Let’s get goin’.” He stated definitely. His saddle bag was slung across his shoulder, and his hand helped navigate his partner through the abandoned house.
They began their trek into town, which thankfully was not too long of a walk. DogMeat followed on the other side of Cooper, hot on his heels. He kept his eyes peeled as they drew further and further into the town. There was a pharmacy, a trader’s hut, several food stalls, and even a mechanics repair shop. Plenty for the two of them. Turning to his partner, he passed her some caps and pointed towards a couple stalls.
“Go get you some dried meat, and get a box of ammunition. Don’t smile so much, alright?” Cooper stressed. She nodded in return and patted his arm as she left with DogMeat.
The Ghoul made his way into the trader’s hut first to find a new bounty that was around. Thankfully, the woman behind the counter had one, and it was simple enough. Someone had not paid her what she was owed, and now she had a hat out on the man. He accepted half of the caps upfront, before moving on to the pharmacy next door. Cooper’s eyes caught his partner and DogMeat traversing the stalls, already having several pouches of meat in her bag.
Which is why he was not afraid to leave her alone while he took his time getting his chems from the pharmacy. Being a ghoul certainly had its drawbacks; the stares, reputation, and fear. But it also held some positives; the stares, reputation, and fear. It certainly helped when acquiring what he needed for a reasonable price. A commotion caught his ears from outside, but he was not afraid that it was his partner.
Until he stepped outside. Cooper saw his partner being crowded against a pile of sheet metal while DogMeat kept barking up a fuss. The dog ran over immediately to the man and began to drag him by his duster over to the woman.
“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t play hard to get.” Some man crept into her space, making her cower down even further. Based on what he could see, and the description the trader gave, this must have been the bounty. She did mention that he tended to go where he pleased like he owned it all.
“Please. Let me go.” She whimpered. Her voice was full of fear and worry, and Cooper was not about to let that stand.
“Everyone’s got a price. I can pay whatever your price is.” He continued, placing his hand on the woman’s waist.
“I do believe the lady asked you to let her go.” Cooper finally made his way over. The man turned around, and smiled with blackened teeth.
“Don’t worry, Ghoul. Once I’m done with her, I’m sure you can have a turn. Certainly don’t wanna do it the other way around.” He laughed, as if what he said was the funniest thing in the world. Cooper began to chuckle lowly as he peeked his eyes out from the lip of his hat. Catching his partner’s eyes, she felt relief as she saw her savior in western gear.
“See, she might be bein’ nice and askin’ you to let her go. But I ain’t that nice. So now I’m tellin’ you to let her go. Now.” Cooper growled, feeling his patience wear thin.
“Or what, Ghoul?” The man never got to hear another response. In a flash, Howard had aimed his gun and fired on his legs. Blowing both of them off, the not-so-tough man now crumbled to the ground, screaming and crying, pleading for the ghoul to have mercy on him.
“Well, ain’t that some shit.” The Ghoul growled, tying a rope around the torso of the man, and began to drag him to the trader’s hut. He focused on the task at hand, knowing that DogMeat would take care of anyone else that had dared get close to her owner.
Walking out of the trader’s hut, Cooper’s eyes scanned the town as he tried to find her partner. He found her, hugging her lugs, stuck in the same place that she was being held. DogMeat was chowing down on the legs that were left. His pocket felt heavy with the weight of the caps, but all that mattered now was taking care of her.
“You alright there, sweetheart?” Howard held a hand out for her to grab onto, and she did. Eagerly shoving her face into his chest and letting out a shaky breath as she processed the events that had just unfolded.
“I’m good. Can we go please?” Her words were muffled in his shirt, but he understood them plenty. Calling for DogMeat, Cooper led the three of them out of the town and into somewhere more secluded. Once they were there, tears fell from her eyes as the weight of what happened fully caught up to her. He set her down on something resembling a chair, and squatted down in front to check her over.
“You saved me.” She whispered, letting her partner do what he needed to do.
“Course I did. What’d you expect? Me to leave you with that man?” He countered with a ridiculous tone.
“It’s like one of your old sheriff films.” Her giggles matched his groan as he dropped his head.
“This ain’t the movies, darlin’.” Cooper looked up at her.
“It’s kinda like the movies.” She replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to bring him in close.
“I can always take you back to that town and leave you there.” He stated in her shoulder. She giggled again.
“That’s not very sheriff-y of you.” Every time he thought he had won, she proved him wrong.
“Alright,” he stood up and took her with him, “let’s get moving. Maybe if we’re lucky we can find another house to sleep in.”
“Ooo, do you think we could find one with a television and a few films?” She teased, already walking off away from town. Cooper groaned, but caught up to her and kept her underneath his arm as they walked away from that town.
#rebelliousstories#writing#cooper the ghoul howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x oc#cooper howard imagine#cooper howard#the ghoul x oc#the ghoul imagine#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul#fallout imagine#fallout
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Glasses
A teeny, tiny drabble so that I could participate and do something for @nestaarcheronweek despite my crazy, hectic life. I've always imagined that Nesta wears glasses for work or reading or something, and that it drives Cassian absolutely nuts. I wish I had more time to make this more, maybe some day, but for now, I give you Cassian appreciating Nesta in glasses. 💕
Am I still good to swing by to bring your key back?
Yep! Working from home and have no more meetings today. Come by whenever you want, no need to knock.
Cassian smiled at the words flashing across his screen as he reached the windowed door that revealed the doors to the two apartments in Nesta's converted townhouse. Nesta had already told him twice that he could come by any time after noon today, but he let his nerves get the better of him and he had to check just one last time. Even if he was already on her street.
"How are you already here?" the silky sharp voice of his girlfriend asked, carrying easily down the stairs as he opened the door to her apartment.
Cassian chuckled, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Couldn't get to you fast enough, sweetheart," he called up as he began to climb. It was a steep staircase. And dark. He hated it. Nesta could really hurt herself on it, and that was something he wouldn't be able to handle. Cassian dreaded the day he got a call telling him she'd fallen down these damn stairs.
Reaching the main floor, he set the keys down on the tall table in front of him just as a large, cream furball let out a loud hiss.
"Even after feeding you for a week, you still hate me?" he muttered, bending down to see if Ataraxia would sniff at his fingers. The furry little beast lifted his nose up and sauntered away from Cassian like a little prince. "Your cat is a spoiled brat," he said, walking down the small hall toward where he knew Nesta would be working in her large living room.
"As he should be," she replied.
Cassian walked into the room and suddenly the world felt lighter as he laid his eyes on his girlfriend for the first time in a week. Staring intently at the computer screens in front of her, all he could really see was her delicate frame and the golden brown hair tied back in her typical coronet style.
He took a step toward her, going to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then paused in his tracks as Nesta turned in her chair to look at him.
There, resting on top of her perfect nose, was a pair of rounded-square glasses in a dark frame. They weren't exactly hipster glasses - too small for that - but they were a similar shape that sat perfectly in Nesta's face.
Nesta was always the most beautiful woman in the room, always sharp and stunning and obviously intelligent. So Casssian wasn't sure exactly what it was about these glasses, but they took his breath away. Perhaps he was more attracted to librarians than he realized. Or maybe it was just Nesta, looking absolutely stunning in everything, and adding new fantasies about glasses Cassian never thought he'd desire.
"Wh…what are those?" he asked like an idiot, pointing to her face.
Nesta let out a small laugh. "My glasses? I wear them for work. They're just blue-light lenses, they keep me from getting a headache when staring at a screen for a long time."
"They're-"
"A necessary nuisance."
"-phenomenal." Nesta blushed at Cassian's last word, turning back to the computer screen.
Cassian wanted to riot, just as he always did when Nesta looked away from him. It should be illegal, for him not to be able to look upon her face. But especially now. Who knew wen he'd get to see her in glasses again? He needed to find a way to save himself from this withdrawal, and he knew just the thing. "Don't you get a lunch hour?" he asked softly, stepping closer to Nesta and leaning his chin on her shoulder.
"Yes…" she answered slowly, turning her face to look at him.
He grinned. "Great. So why don't you log off but keep those glasses on and join me in the bedroom?"
Before Nesta could answer, Cassian left a kiss on her neck and sauntered to the back of the apartment, smirking as her heard soft footsteps following him.
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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 49
It's here!!! The final part of this massive fic. 😭 I can't believe we're finally at the end. I'm still in shock that I get to close the door on this fic that has taken up the last three years of my life. I have so many emotions running through me right now. 🥺
The epilogue will be posted during @elriel-month in addition to a little surprise I'm so excited to share with you. Stay tuned!! 💜💙💚
My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics
My ao3 account: tswaney17
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕
Catch up here.
Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘
Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW
This part also features descriptions of birth and complications from it.
Word Count: 7,225
Elain had spent a good portion of the late morning getting ready for the baby shower scheduled for noon. At just over eight months pregnant, they were cutting close to the wire of the twins’ arrival.
She was beyond exhausted. Growing the babies was work enough, but she ached everywhere at this point. Her boobs, her hips, her ankles. Her back…that hurt the worst. She looked like she swallowed two extra large watermelons. Elain hadn’t seen her feet in two and half months and she was praying that her toenails looked well enough for sandals today.
On top of her aching body, she also slept like shit the night before, having woken up in the wee hours with Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to never want to go away. They were getting obnoxious at this point.
Oh! And her boobs had already started leaking. Aside from the contractions, Elain also woke up to a soaked sleep shirt and an attitude that poor Azriel was desperately trying to keep calm. She felt bad that her irritation got directed at him, but he took her mood swings in stride, giving her the space when she needed it, and focusing on taking care of Kaden and getting him ready for the party.
Her husband knocked lightly before entering their bedroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it when he saw her standing there in an ugly pair of panties and a strapless bra—which she had no idea how it was going to hold up her tits, but here they were. “Hello, my love. How are you doing?” he asked, striding further into their room. He was already dressed in black slacks and a white button-down rolled up to his elbows. It was one of her favorite looks on him. Casual but classy and sexy as hell.
“I’m all right. Better than this morning,” which was true. In the time she took to get ready, she felt her irritation slowly dissipate. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”
He gifted her a soft smile he reserved only for her and their children. “El, you’re carrying two babies. You’re allowed to let out your frustrations. I’m here to spar if you need it, you know that.”
She knew he meant spar as in letting her yell and shout and hiss words until she felt better while he just took it. Gods, he really was the perfect husband. Elain held out her coco butter lotion towards him. “Do you mind rubbing this on me and helping me dress?”
Azriel took the bottle from her outstretched hands, dropping a sweet kiss on her plump lips before squirting some into his scarred palms and gently rubbing it all over her swollen stomach. He knelt before her, dutifully getting every inch of her covered. “You are so beautiful, Elain,” he murmured, kissing her at the fullest part of her belly.
She snorted. “I am a beached whale who ate too much.”
“You are a gorgeous woman carrying life inside of her womb. That will always be beautiful, sweetheart.”
How he always knew what to say was beyond her, but she tugged him up off the ground to kiss him thoroughly. It should’ve annoyed her with how just a few sweeps of Azriel’s tongue had every concern and irritation simply melt away. He knew when to play that card and fuck did he play it well.
But even his tongue couldn’t stop the hiss of pain as another contraction wracked her body.
He immediately pulled back at the sound, eyes scanning her face. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern etched into the tone.
She breathed through the wave that tightened in her abdomen. “Braxton Hicks contractions,” she said as an explanation.
His brows shot into his hairline. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”
Elain reached up to cup his cheek in her palm, her thumb swiping over the stubble there. “No, it’s a normal thing this late in the pregnancy. I’ve had a few this morning starting before dawn. It’s why I was grouchy.”
Understanding lit his face and he carefully ran his hand down her stomach again. “Why didn’t you wake me this morning?”
She huffed a laugh. “Because I knew you’d go into full-birthing-dad-mode and neither one of us would’ve slept any longer.”
Azriel shot her an unamused glare. “You will be thanking me for that birthing-dad mode when you’re in labor and I have everything packed up within minutes.”
This time Elain laughed loud and joyfully. “Yes, you’re probably right.” She nodded to the dress on the bed. “Help me slip that on?”
He grabbed the fabric, bunching it in his large fists, and pulled it over her head. It was an off-the-shoulder, loose, pale pink cotton dress, decorated with roses. It looked vintage, gathering just under her bust, with oversized puffy sleeves that sat off her shoulders, over her biceps. Ruffles accentuated the bottom hem, emphasizing the vintage style. It was the perfect spring dress. When Elain first saw it at the store, she knew she had to buy it for the shower.
Azriel tugged her loose curls from the back of the dress, letting them brush against her spine. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder before grabbing the rose-pendant necklace he bought to go with the dress and draping it around her delicate neck. “Perfect,” he murmured onto her skin, his smile pressing against her neck.
Elain sighed softly, reaching up to thread her fingers through his dark hair. “How am I still horny for you?”
He nipped at her throat, a rumble shaking his chest. “Because you know I can deliver what you need without even blinking.”
This time she laughed, letting his hands run across her body in possessive little touches.
Azriel brazenly cupped her sex through the dress, growling as she let out a mewling sound and began to writhe against those skilled fingers, searching for the friction she desperately craved. “Would you like to fuck my hand, love?” he murmured, mouth grazing her jaw.
Elain fell slack against him, letting his strength hold her up. “Az,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he began to rub her in earnest. “Please.”
He nipped the curve of her ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. “You beg so prettily, El.” Bunching up the dress in a fist, Azriel slid her panties aside, swiping his fingers over her soaked pussy. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet for me. Always desperate for my touch.”
She gripped him, nails digging into his exposed forearms. “I need—I need,” she panted out, wiggling in his hold. “Please, Az.”
Giving her exactly what she wanted—needed—Azriel sunk his middle finger into her aching cunt, pumping once before adding a second digit. “Such a good girl,” he whispered, thrusting in and out of her. The heel of his palm grazed her clit sending bolts of pleasure up her spine.
Elain bit her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to burst from her. His fingers scraped along that special spot inside of her, building her up and up and up until she teetered on the edge of bliss.
Barely conscious of her surroundings, Elain caught the sound of the door handle jiggling, followed by a “Momma!”
Azriel clapped a hand over her mouth as he continued his machinations. “Momma’s getting dressed, Kaden. We’ll be out in a minute,” he called out, pressing his palm firmly on her clit and sending her spiraling into her orgasm.
Too far gone to care, she tumbled into sweet oblivion, coming hard on his fingers. Elain moaned, only quieted by the muffling against her husband’s scarred hand.
He worked her through her release, slowing his movements when she started to come down from her high. Az peppered her skin with sweet kisses, removing his fingers from her pussy and readjusting her panties back into place before letting the dress fall back down. “Better, my love?”
“I’m gonna have to change my underwear, but yes.” She twisted in his arms, catching him sucking his fingers clean. Elain brought his mouth down to hers, tongue licking the drop of her release dotting his bottom lip. “Thank you, husband.”
He smiled into their kiss, deepening it once more. “I’ll go check on Kaden while you finish up. We’ll head out when you’re done.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in the car on their way to Rhys and Feyre’s place. It was a gorgeous day full of sunshine, the air warm with the oncoming of summer. It was as if even the Mother wanted to grace her presence on that day with her radiance. They really couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day for a baby shower.
“Momma?” Kaden called from the back seat. “Where are we going?”
His speech had improved so much since they first brought him home that the therapist they hired had told them after the end of the school year, that he likely wouldn’t need to continue seeing a specialist to catch him up. He was reading and writing the way a five-year-old should be and was on track to pass kindergarten with flying colors.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Remember how we talked about going to Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys’s for the baby shower today.”
He seemed to think about that. “What’s a baby shower?”
Her lips quirked up at his curious mind. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked about where babies came from again. “It’s a party to celebrate the upcoming arrival of your brother and sister.” Her hand came to rest on her belly instinctively.
His face scrunched up. “Will I have to take a bath again?”
Azriel let out a snort, glancing at her. “It’s a fair question.”
She laughed. “No, sweetheart. Not that kind of shower. To shower with love. The party is just to celebrate the babies before they arrive.”
“Will there be cake?” he asked, excitement lighting up his face at the prospect of sweets.
“For my sister’s sake, there better be.” Elain’s late-stage pregnancy craving was anything sweet. Cookies, cakes, pastries, whatever she could get her hands on, she was eating it. Azriel was barely able to keep the pantry stocked with desserts for her to snack on.
Her husband chuckled. “If she doesn’t, we’ll stop by a bakery on our way home and get each of you a cake. How’s that sound?” he asked, grasping her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.
She grinned. “You spoil me.”
He looked at her then. “You deserve to be spoiled.”
They were fashionably late to their baby shower, and Elain completely blamed her husband’s morning sexual charade for the delay in their arrival. Not that she minded at all. She had another Braxton Hick contraction in the car, Azriel eying her with worry and once again asking if they should make a pitstop at the hospital just in case.
But that would’ve made them even more late and Elain knew it was unnecessary.
All of their friends and family were waiting for their arrival. And she hated being late.
“What am I going to do with you gone for six months, Elain?” Thesan teased, taking a sip of his beer.
She shot a devilish grin at the head nurse sitting on the couch across from her. “I’m sure Viv would love to pick up all the slack.”
Viviane squawked in outrage and pointed a menacing finger in her direction. “Don’t put your work on me while you’re enjoying your babymoon, Elain Archeron-Knight.”
The group laughed as she pushed herself up off the couch. Another contraction hit her and she winced, catching the attention of the sharp-eyed nurse. But before she could ask, Kaden came bounding up to her, tugging on the skirt of her dress.
“Momma, can I have a cake pop?” He looked up at her with those damn puppy eyes he knew she couldn’t resist.
Elain ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, sweetie. Only one. You don’t want to spoil your appetite for Uncle Cassian’s good barbeque.”
Said uncle was out in the backyard tending to the grill with her husband, Rhys, and the Moonbeam brothers because, apparently, that’s where men gathered. Aelin and Rowan had joined them, the former getting an eyebrow raise from Azriel at her company’s appearance.
She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to perhaps score one of those cake pops herself—she was the guest of honor, surely she could snag one too. Feyre, Nuala, and Cerridwen had been busy putting together the final touches for lunch and were just waiting for Cassian’s proteins to serve food.
But just as she reached the breakfast bar, a wave of excruciating pain washed over her. Catching herself on the counter, Elain gripped the side of her stomach, groaning loud enough that the other room went silent. And then she felt it. Liquid surged between her legs, puddling the floor beneath her.
No. No, it was too soon. They couldn’t be coming already.
Viviane rounded the corner from the living room as Feyre and the twins approached her.
Somebody breathed her name, but she couldn’t decipher who it was over the blood rushing in her ears.
More footsteps sounded as her friends and family came from the living room to see what was going on.
“Elain.” It was Feyre’s voice that broke through the fog of fear that had clouded her, but she was too numb to respond. Too nervous. “Somebody get Azriel!”
Her panic grew and her breathing turned shallow. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared enough. The anxiety of giving birth hit her like a freight train.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t.
~~~~~
Azriel took a swig of his beer, rolling his eyes at the cad comment Rhys made. His tanned skin warmed in the sunlight even with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. With a glance at the large window, he caught Elain rising from her spot on the couch, Kaden gripping her dress to speak with her.
Gods, that fucking dress. Elain looked like a maternal goddess in it, emphasizing her swollen belly, brimming with the life of his children. Az never realized he had a breeding kink until he and Elain got back together. His desire to fill her with his seed, to watch her grow with life had him hardening in his pants.
Now at eight months, she had reached the stage where little things irked the hell out of her. Honestly, her temper was cute as hell, but he tried to be considerate of her exhaustion and short-fuse, offering himself up to take the heat of her ire. It was only fair—he’s the one that got her pregnant.
It may have made him a primitive, alpha-douchebag, but fuck did he love to see her waddling around, pregnant and barefoot in their home. She was already such a wonderful mother to their boy, Kaden. Cassian had been right. He was so incredibly grateful for Elain’s maternal instinct.
“Something caught your eye, brother?” Cassian taunted, grinning. His brother knew exactly what he was looking at. Or whom.
He shot him a dry look that had Cash chuckling.
“If she wasn’t already pregnant, I’d say that look alone could’ve knocked her up,” he teased. “Who knew you had such a kink, Az.”
Azriel opened his mouth to retort, but the sliding glass door opening caught his attention.
Nuala peeked her head out, a worried look on her face that had his stomach tightening in knots. “Azriel! Get in here now!”
But he was already moving, dropping his drink on the table and running after her into the house, his brothers and friends hot on his heels. He froze in the entryway of the kitchen, taking in the scene for a split second before his eyes settled on Elain bent over the counter, a puddle of clear liquid beneath her.
His feet ate up the space between them in three long strides, her name falling from his lips as he cupped her face and forced her gaze on his. Azriel prided himself in knowing exactly what Elain was feeling, what she was thinking by just the look on her face. He read her better than he did himself. So, seeing the blatant apprehension and worry written as clearly as a tattoo on her forehead had his heart racing in his chest.
Her eyes were wet with the tears he could tell she was trying to hold back.
“Love,” he said quietly, unsure how to proceed at the moment.
She blinked like hearing him cleared a bit of the fog that had washed over her. “Azriel.” Her voice cracked.
He folded her into his arms, trying to soothe whatever worries were troubling her. “You’re okay, my love.”
Elain seemed to melt in his embrace, her tension slowly ebbing away the longer he held her. He gave her whatever time she needed, ignoring the audience they had around them, but it was long enough for another contraction to hit. She cried out, gripping his hand in hers and squeezing tight.
Viviane snapped into action at that. “Azriel, her contractions are about nine minutes apart now. She’s going to have at least two more by the time you reach the hospital.”
“No hospitals,” Elain growled.
That had him pulling back to look down at her. “El, the babies are coming—”
“No. Hospitals.” He could see the wavering in her face. “I—,” she paused, hesitating. “They’re not ready. It’s too early. Too soon. They can’t come out yet…” Her head fell until she was looking at the wetness still sitting on the floor. “I’m not ready,” Elain whispered so quietly, that he almost missed it.
Azriel knew that was nerves speaking. While Kaden made them parents, the idea of giving birth to the twins was the primary source of her fear. The books he read said that many expectant mothers experienced this type of anxiety right around the time they went into labor. If they were going to have any success in her having a smooth birth, Azriel needed to get her to calm down. He glanced at Cassian. “Can you get her a chair?”
His brother grabbed one from the dining room, setting it out for Az to carefully guide Elain into. He knelt in front of her, keeping her hands clasped firmly in his. “Elain, sweetheart,” her dark eyes latched onto his, needing to hear his reassurance. He kept his voice low, wishing they didn’t have to have this conversation in front of their friends and family.
Rhys seemed to sense that and began ushering people out of the room. “Let’s give the couple a few minutes.”
He shot his brother a grateful look before returning his attention to Elain. “Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. I know it’s earlier than we were expecting. But if there is one thing that I am certain of is that you can do this.” He squeezed her hands in comfort. “You are the strongest person I know. You’ve been through so much that once all is said and done, you’re going to look at me and tell me that this was the easy part. I promise you that if anyone can do this, it’s you. And I will be right by your side for every step, holding your hand, giving you ice chips, and bearing whatever you need me to bear to bring our children into the world.”
She sniffed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re sure?”
“Without a doubt, Elain. You can do this.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth, kissing her fingers and letting her absorb whatever confidence she needed. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to have our babies, love?”
Elain huffed a laugh, his words settling the nerves she had. “Yes, let’s go have our babies,” she breathed, her grin taking over her entire face, lasting all of thirty seconds before a look of panic took root once more. “Az, the birthing bag is still at the house.”
He let out an undignified snort. “Do you think after having that contraction in front of me this morning, I’d leave the house without having absolutely everything packed and ready to go? Come on, baby, you know me better than that. It’s all in the back of the car.”
She blinked in surprise. “The birthing bag and my pillow?”
“In the car,” he confirmed.
“Kaden’s overnight bag?”
“In the car.”
“The car seats for the twins?”
He scoffed. “You know I installed those weeks ago, try again.”
Her lips quired up at the corner. “What about the slippers I was wearing this morning?” she asked, thinking she had him.
Az rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. “I grabbed them when I snagged the birthing bag.” He kissed her hands again. “I’ve got you, love.”
And then she was leaning forward, kissing him with so much love and devotion, he felt it down to the soul she brought back to life. The sound of their family’s cheers forced them apart, a pretty blush dusting the tops of Elain’s cheeks, but she didn’t dare look away from him.
Without looking away from her, Azriel reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Rhys. “Can you grab Kaden’s bag from the trunk? The one with dinosaurs. And then Elain’s purple one as well.”
Elain’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why is he grabbing mine?”
His lips pulled up into a knowing grin, brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, “I thought you might like to change your underwear and put on a maternity pad for the ride to the hospital.”
Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, but she nodded in agreement.
A little body shuffled closer. “Momma?” Kaden murmured, looking so very worried over the state of his mother.
She held her arms out, motioning him forward. “C’mere sweetheart.” Elain tucked him into her chest, kissing the top of his head. “You’re going to stay here with Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys while Daddy and I go to the hospital to have your brother and sister.”
He looked up at her with those puppy-dog eyes and damn, the kid knew how to work them. “But I want to go with you!” His lower lip quivered and Azriel could tell he was on the verge of tears.
But his wife took it in stride, cupping his little face in her palms and swiping her thumbs across his cheeks. “I know, sweetheart. I know you do. But you’ll have a much better time here with your aunt and uncle. Momma’s not going to be fun to be around until your siblings are here.” She kissed his plump cheek. “But I promise that you will be the first to see us once they arrive. Okay?”
Feyre stepped forward, reaching out a hand for their son. “Come on, Kaden. We’ll have lots of fun eating all the desserts left over.” She shot them a wink when he finally relented, taking her fingers.
After cleaning her up as best as he could and getting her a maternity pad from her bag, he and Elain were in the car on the way to the hospital. As Viviane predicted, she had two more contractions on the way, grabbing his offered hand and the “oh shit” bar as she groaned her way through it. And then promptly went into a third one right as they arrived.
Az timed them out, still sitting about nine minutes apart. “Breathe, baby. Good, love. Just like that.” His thumb grazed the back of her hand. Her grip was tight, on the verge of painful, but he didn’t dare let his face flinch or show an ounce of discomfort. She needed his strength and that’s exactly what he was going to give her.
They were immediately escorted to their private room and Elain’s vitals were checked over. She was sitting at only two centimeters dilated, which meant they were looking at being there for a bit.
Between her contractions, he swapped out his clothes for a fitted black t-shirt and grey sweatpants to get more comfortable and then sent a text to their siblings to notify them that they were in and settled, but it would be a while before they would have any progress.
“Can you check in with Kaden?” Elain asked, taking a scoop of ice chips from her cup.
The corner of his lips curled up at the question. “I already did. Feyre said he wouldn’t leave the front window for a while and had to persuade him with his baby cousin and a lot of sweet treats.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “He’s going to have a mouth full of cavities before we get home.” Elain twisted to look at him. “Do you think we made the right decision by not letting him come with us? It sounds like he’s waiting for us to return. I know that some families let their little ones be present for the birth of their siblings and we discussed it—”
He interrupted her train of thought. “I think we made the right call, love. We’re going to be here for a while and we both know that things can upset him. I don’t know how well he’d handle watching you go through that.”
She nodded but didn’t look very convinced.
Azriel reached for her hand, covering it with his own and squeezing her fingers. “He’s safe and well-cared for. Remember that while we focus on bringing his little brother and sister into the world.” He brushed his lips over her knuckles in a sweet kiss.
Elain smiled softly at him. “Okay.”
And so, they waited.
Per his wife’s birthing plan, she wanted to attempt to go natural. Azriel admired her strength and resilience in doing so. But after over sixteen hours of hard labor, he could see her resolve fading.
He stroked her cheek, fingers brushing hair behind her ear. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Dark circles already lined the underneath part of her eyes. She looked so weary. “I’m so tired, Az.” Her voice came out nearly broken and fuck if that didn’t just rip his beating heart from his chest.
Kissing her forehead, he murmured, “Do you want to get the epidural? It’ll help you get some much-needed rest before the delivery.” As of now, she was only at seven centimeters and the doctor had said it could still be a while longer until she reached a full ten.
Her chin dipped in confirmation. “Please.”
Azriel didn’t waste time calling for the nurse. Within ten minutes, he watched as a grossly large needle was inserted into her back, sending that relief washing over her. He peppered her face with kisses during the procedure, murmuring words of praise and comfort in her ear as she gritted her teeth through it.
Elain spent the next eight hours in a fitful sleep, dosing off and waking up not long after each time. Azriel didn’t bother to try and sleep, not when she wasn’t really getting much at all.
But finally, after just past nine, she was fully dilated and ready to push.
His wife pushed and pushed and pushed for a half hour with nothing to show for it. She was in tears, frustrated, and so exhausted he was practically supporting all her weight having slid an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.
“I can’t, I can’t,” she sobbed, half burying her face into his chest.
“You can, love. You’re so strong. Just a little bit more,” he tried to reassure her. It fucking killed him to see her like this.
“Can’t you do it for me?” she pleaded, looking up at him with wild, desperate eyes.
He gripped her cheek in his palm, kissing her temple. “You know I would, El. I would give anything to switch places with you right now. But I know you can do this. Just a few more pushes and then they’ll be here.”
Whatever she read within his words seemed to do the trick, her brows furrowing with a determination he hadn’t seen since they left the house. Elain pushed herself up, trying to get into a kneeling position, and he was right there, sliding behind her and supporting her weight.
The nurses squawked, muttering something about hospital policy, but frankly, he did not give a fuck, snarling, “Her body is telling her to push like this. Listen to your fucking patient.”
Changing the position was exactly what she needed because their son was born within the next two contractions, entering the world with a healthy set of lungs.
They sagged back against the pillows, his face wet with tears as they placed their new baby directly on Elain’s bared chest. He couldn’t stop himself from tipping her head back to kiss her softly on the lips, pausing the savor the moment.
Az traced the pads of his fingers over the curve of their boy’s cheek, just needing to touch him to prove he was here with them. Even covered in fluids, he was so beautiful. The perfect blend of the two of them.
The nurses gave them just a few minutes with the first baby before Doctor Chen said that she needed to start pushing again. She took their boy from Elain’s arms, promising to bring him back for Azriel after he was cleaned up and their daughter was born.
Delivery of their little girl went easier than with their son. But whereas their boy came out crying, their daughter came out silent.
Azriel knew something was wrong just by the silence, but it only grew the anxiety in his stomach when the doctor turned her back on them, taking their little one with her to work on.
“She’s not crying,” Elain breathed, worry clouding her voice.
He could only squeeze her shoulders in comfort, watching as they shoved things into her nose and mouth.
“Suction,” Chen ordered.
“Azriel, why isn’t she crying?”
“She’s going to be okay, love. They’re helping her. She’s okay.” The words passed his lips even as his heart dropped into his stomach when they started doing compressions on her tiny body.
No.
This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t lose her. It would kill him to lose his little girl, but Elain, fuck, he couldn’t even begin to fathom the devastation she would face at this loss. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pay to fix this or threaten someone to save their baby girl.
So, he did what any father would do.
He prayed.
He prayed to every god, every deity, everything, and anything he could think of to keep his little girl safe and bring her back to them. To take her place if they demanded it. A life for a life. He’d pay it for his child, his family. “Come on,” he murmured. “Come on, baby. Come on.”
Elain curved her face into the side of his chest, howling in a way he’d never heard from her before.
His arms went around her, that dreaded feeling turning his blood cold. The terror he felt of their little one dead before she lived was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But still, he did not stop praying, clutching Elain’s shaking body to his. “Come on, little one. Come on!” he chanted. “Please.”
And then, a rattled cough tore from her tiny body, followed by the sweet, beautiful sound of her cry.
Elain’s wail turned into relieved sobs, as the doctor walked over their bundled little girl and placed her into his wife’s awaiting arms.
“Somebody was just so excited to meet you, she took a breath a little too early, but we cleared out her passages and lungs and she looks good now.”
His wife tucked their daughter into her chest, kissing the top of her head. “Hi sweet girl, Momma’s here,” she whispered, tears still falling down her cheeks. Tears that matched the ones running down his face.
She was here. His baby girl. Fuck, she looked just like him, with dark hair and tanned skin. He hadn’t gotten a look at her eyes yet, but already she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Here you go, Mr. Archeron-Knight,” one of the other nurses said, pulling his attention from his wife and daughter as she handed him his son, cleaned up and wrapped in a soft blanket.
The small bundle was gently laid in the crook of his elbow. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever feel the amount of love he did on Kaden’s adoption day, but sitting here with his gorgeous wife, holding their newborn twins, he felt his heart soar in his chest.
Sweaty and fatigued, Elain glanced up at his face, the sweetest, exhausted smile pulling on her lips. “I love you,” she murmured.
He let out a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a sob. “I love you more.” And then he kissed her, sealing that moment in time with his undying love for her.
~~~~~
Elain woke to the sound of a whimpering cry, swiftly followed by Azriel’s low voice.
“Hey, sweet girl. What’s wrong, huh?” She heard some shuffling as her husband lifted their daughter from the nursery bed. “Momma needs her sleep so we need to be quiet.” He kept his voice low enough to not disturb her—fuck she loved him so much—but she was already awake, rolling over in the hospital bed to face him.
Azriel holding his children was, hands down, the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. How she could even feel the need for him after pushing two babies out of her currently aching and severely injured body was beyond her, but just watching him bounce their fussing daughter made all those desires come roaring to the surface.
Almost as if he could sense her presence, hazel eyes slid to hers. “I’ve got her, love. Go back to sleep.” His voice remained soft as night as if anything louder would disturb her.
She curled up on her side, watching him. “I think we should get used to no sleep now.”
He huffed a laugh, patting Rosalie on her back as she further settled into the crook of his elbow.
Their daughter was almost two pounds smaller than her brother, coming in right at five whereas Ryder was a healthy six pounds, fourteen ounces. The doctor was a little concerned over Rosalie’s lower birth weight, but Elain had managed to get both babies to latch and feed earlier and she ate well, so they were mainly playing it by ear.
Because of her smaller size, Azriel already placed an order for some preemie clothes and sent a photo of her with the twins to their siblings. They asked to give them a day to recuperate before coming to the hospital in the morning. After the scare with Rosalie, both she and Azriel wanted to take some time to spend with the babies. Plus, the medical team was in and out of their room, taking Rosalie for some additional tests just to be sure everything looked good.
It was just after seven that night, and they were settling in for the evening. Tired of hospital food, Azriel ordered hamburgers from DoorDash for them to eat. Elain was starving and it sounded so good that she drooled when she suggested it to him. Both babies had been fed only an hour earlier and she anticipated not having another feeding till late evening or early morning.
Elain grabbed whatever sleep she could, knowing she’d need it when they were released in a couple of days, but she was sure Azriel hadn’t slept a wink since she’d gone into labor.
She pushed herself up, reclining on her pillows. The nurses cleaned her after the delivery and stitched her up from tearing, but Elain couldn’t wait to get home and take a proper shower. “Does she need to be changed?” she asked, nodding to the now-sleeping baby in her husband’s arms.
Azriel shook his head. “No, I think she was just fussing.” His dark hair was still mussed up from when he stripped out of his shirt earlier, taking time for skin-to-skin contact with each of the twins.
Elain had to rein in her laugh at how the nurse blushed as he revealed miles of gloriously tanned, tattooed skin and corded muscle. Her husband was a fine specimen, but he never flaunted it, so seeing another woman react to it was humorous especially since he didn’t even seem to notice her blushing, stammering state.
“You should sleep too, Az,” she said instead.
He looked at her, his lips curving up. It had been doing that a lot since the birth of the twins. The sweetest, smallest smile that crept up the corners of his mouth. Almost as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was utterly adorable and made him look younger. “I’ll rest later. You need it more than me.”
Her shoulders shook in amusement. “You know, we can sleep when they do.”
“I just don’t want to miss a second of them.” His attention returned to his little girl who already had him wrapped around her finger. To be fair, all of their children did. “Fuck, I can’t believe they’re here already. It seems like it was only a month ago you found out you were pregnant.”
“I can’t believe our first anniversary is coming up in just a handful of weeks.”
At that, he laughed. “I guess a trip for our anniversary is out of the question?”
She grinned. “Not unless all our little ones are coming with us.” Because like hell was she going to be able to leave them so soon. Plus with her nursing, it just wouldn’t be ideal.
He seemed to consider her. “We could take the jet to the Summer District. Kaden will be out of school then and we’ll both still be out on leave. Just a thought.”
Gods, he was fucking perfect. “That might be nice.”
A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was going to say. He frowned in confusion, looking at her.
Elain shrugged, sitting up further on her bed. “Come in,” she called out.
She thought it might be a nurse or a doctor, coming to check on her or the twins. What she didn’t expect was for Rhys to peek his head into the room. Surprise lit her features and she glanced at Azriel, who looked equally as bewildered at the sudden visit from their brother.
“Hey,” Rhys said. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but somebody really couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see you.” He opened the door slightly, revealing Kaden clutching a teddy bear, eyes puffy and red from crying.
Her heart ached at the distress their son must’ve been in for Rhys to come all the way here. “Hello sweetheart,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Come here, my love.”
He took a small step further into the room, Rhys’s hand guiding him at the backside of his head. Kaden took slow steps as he approached the side of her bed. “Momma, are you sick?”
She reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. “No, baby. I’m not sick. Your brother and sister decided it was time to come out of my tummy.” Her eyes found Azriel’s as he rose from his seat on the couch, moving toward them. “Would you like to meet them?” she asked, returning her gaze to Kaden’s.
His head dipped in confirmation.
Elain pushed herself back even more. “Rhys, can you help him up and then grab me that flat pillow over there.”
He set the boy on the bed between her spread legs, Kaden shuffling backward and bumping into her sensitive lower area.
She hissed out in pain before she could stop herself. A wave of agony washed over her with enough intensity that her stomach curdled with nausea.
Azriel reacted immediately. “Easy, buddy. Momma’s going to be sore for a while and we need to be extra careful with her.”
“I’m okay,” she spoke quickly, not wanting to upset Kaden any more than he already was, and kissed his plump cheek as she breathed through the pain. “Okay, Rhys. Place the pillow over our laps.”
Adjusting his arms in preparation, Azriel gently lowered their daughter until she comfortably rested on the nursing pillow.
“Kaden, this is your sister, Rosalie,” he announced, letting his finger stroke her rounded cheek.
Elain couldn’t see his face directly, but she did catch his eyes widening as he stared down at her, his fingers carefully tracing over her delicate features just as his father did.
“Rosawee,” he said, not quite catching the ending syllable. It would be something they would have to work on. When she kicked a leg within her swaddle, he pulled his hand back, startled.
She laughed, feeling the bed dip as Azriel sat down next to them, bringing over their son. “And this is your brother, Ryder.”
He reached out to trace the outline of his brows, the touch gentle and exploratory. “I’m a brother?” he asked, turning his head to look up at her.
“That’s right sweetheart. You’re their big brother, and they’re going to love you so much,” she told him, kissing the top of his head.
Elain took in her family, her incredible husband, and three beautiful children. It sounded so wild to even think about. She was a wife and a mother. Thinking back, she remembered the day that had changed the trajectory of her life forever. The bank robbery a few years back. It was crazy to think how such a terrifying moment altered her life in the best of ways. It brought her back to the love of her life.
It put her on this very path.
She’d face every one of the moments since then tenfold as long as it brought her to this point in time, sitting here with her gorgeous little family.
“Perfect.”
She looked up at Rhys, catching him with his phone out.
“Your first family photo.”
Her lips turned up and silver lined her eyes. “Thank you, Rhys.”
He waved her off. “Do you want me to take Kaden back with me?”
“No,” Azriel said, ruffling his eldest son’s hair. “He can stay here with us tonight. Can you put his booster seat in our car? The keys are in my bag.”
“You got it.” He grabbed the keys but paused on the threshold. “And congratulations you guys. Rosalie and Ryder are beautiful.”
Azriel leaned further into her side, kissing her temple. “Thank you, brother.” Once alone, he turned her head toward his, bringing her mouth to his for a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you so damn much, Elain.”
His smile was infectious, making her lips turn up at the corners. “Thank you, Azriel, for giving me this life—these babies. You have made me the happiest I could ever imagine. I love you.”
“Momma! She’s got my finger,” Kaden’s giggle interrupted their moment.
They laughed, looking at their three beautiful children.
Elain knew that this perfect moment was just the very beginning of the rest of their lives.
~~~~~
Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕
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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!
#i do bad things with you#idbtwy#elriel#elriel fic#elriel fanfic#elriel fanfiction#elain#elain archeron#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#elain x azriel#elain x az#azriel x elain#elain and azriel#azriel and elain#tswaney17#tswaney17fics#tay writes#my writing#fanfic#fanfiction#sarah j maas#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf
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i think taking a break from writing smut for like almost a year has been rly refreshing bc i think it made me stop questioning if my writing is interesting without sex and just write it how i want. and then tbh a part of me has realized i like writing without the sex half the time. it’s nice. it’s fun to explore intimacy in as many non sexual ways as you can
#not that i don’t like writing smut#bc tbh sometimes u just have to write gojo cumming#to feel fulfilled#but#yeah idk#dipping my toes back into sm.ut has been a journey#bc on one hand i actually didn’t like it at all when i started writing it again#i was like bro how did i write this so often#this sucks ass i will go back to sfw fluff cuteness#but then i slowly got back into the swing of things#and now it’s like#ok yeah i did miss this a bit#but i think if anything#the break was good for me it made me#overall more confident in my writing and it’s ability to compel / draw in an audience without sex appeal#but also just have more plot based development#which is why i’m so happy w that post canon geto fic#bc me of a year ago#could never fathom writing 10k words of no smut#yeah anyway ramble over#but that being said#ima till write pure filth for october LMAO
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Your name isn't jacket
Old sketch under the cut
I think I like the proportions of this old one more BUT I enjoy the vibe of the new one
#payday#payday 2#hotline miami#jacket#getting back into the swing of things slowly. but i do miss drawing him#ive got.... ideas.... >:)#jar art
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in the emtts universe, do you think eddie and/or steve would watch movies in other languages with robin? like, my friend and i - she's french and i'm indian so she watches bollywood romances with me and i watch french romances with her every sunday :-)
First, that’s an adorable thing to do with your friend and I think it’s very sweet that you and your friend take a vested interest in each other’s culture.
I can see Steve and Eddie both watching films in foreign languages with Robin separately.
Like, Steve ends up watching a lot of foreign films with Robin by proxy.
Robin insists that the only want to keep a language is to be immersed in the culture and since there’s not a lot of culture in Hawkins that isn’t painfully Americana, she rents out the abysmally small foreign film section from Family Video constantly. Since Steve is with her a lot, he is also immersed in these cultures.
He complains but he also secretly loves it.
He loves how into the movies Robin gets. He loves how passionately she explains it to him. He loves trying to figure out the plots and how she lights up when he gets it right, but he loves it even more when he gets it wrong.
Robin likes a lot of arthouse films that don’t have linear timelines or that are meandering to the point of confusion so sometimes Steve misses the mark completely, but it’s okay. They’ve spent hours after a movie, telling two different stories about what they just watched and Robin never seems upset that Steve just didn’t get it.
Eddie ends up watching films in foreign languages with Robin out of necessity.
In like a ‘my world famous band is about to tour Europe and I just realized that I only speak English but you keep correcting how I do that so maybe I don’t keep English too good either’ kind of necessity to which Robin responded, “Jesus Christ.”
Eddie got a passport and then realized that Gareth took three years of French, Grant spoke fluent German with his grandmother all the time, and Jeff was passable with Spanish, and Eddie. Gee, Eddie was going to look like the biggest idiot on the planet – “Or, you’ll just look like an American.”
“That’s even worse!” Eddie despaired, draping himself across the counter of Family Video. “Help me, Robin-wan, you’re my only hope.”
Help to Robin was an English to Spanish dictionary and a bunch of study material, but help to Eddie was the Italian Giallo he picked up in Indianapolis last week because that was more fun. She sent Eddie off to Europe with an English to Spanish dictionary and a ‘good luck.’
It did not help.
#Robin listening to Eddie butcher Au Revoir at the airport: Oh…he’s doomed#Steve and Eddie double date with Nancy and Robin to a sign language course so they’re all semi-fluent in ASL#I got this ask like a month ago and I’m sorry it’s taken so long#I’m slowly getting myself back into the swing of things#eddie munson tiktok saga#steve harrington#eddie munson
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It's always the worst when you finally have some energy to spare and got the creativity flowing so you want to be productive and the internet stays out for over 24 hours. 🥲 Thankfully it has returned now (fingers crossed it stays that way). Hopefully I can dig some of that ambition back out to try and get things done this weekend. But I hope you've all been doing well. 💙
#; OOC || Bri ♟️#//I wanted to work on some Sh///////uake week stuff (it's halfway over already and I'm very late as usual haaaaa)#//but it was just a frustrating and tiring yesterday so I got nothing done instead!!! Very much on brand for me. 🙃#//This entire month has just been super overwhelming and draining and I'd really like August to be better.#//(Please universe I beg of you let me have this.)#//Hopefully things will calm down so I stop feeling like a husk because I miss writing and talking and gaming and all the things. ;3;#//Either way thanks for always being super patient with me. I'm gonna try to slowly get back into the swing of things. 💙
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Fuck the depressions getting really bad. Can't even find the effort to go to the grocery store. It's literally the only thing that gets me out the house and now I just can't be fucked with even that. But also I mean who cares? I've kinda stopped giving a shit about my health.
#it's not good tbh#my psyc will come back from leave soon and she's probably gonna be concerned lmao#but also who really caresM#not like im gonna need to drag myself out to meet with friends lmao#not like family are gonna wanna swing by my house and chill#not like I'm gonna have an event or a party or an outing or a get together#nobodys gonna notice nobody will care and I csnt be fucked caring any more#every time i look forward or hope or dream in my life its fucked me over in the end lmao#so im done imma just let myself slowly evaporate away in my stupid apartment#nobody will notice unless I tell them lmao#i dont have any reason to get out of bed or leave the house or take care of myself so why bother honestly#im really wondering why i should bother djjdj#gonna have to really talk to my psycologist about it all i guess#but im not really a fan of her idea to find a group to engage in the community like finding friends is something i want yes#but i just hate those kinds of things idk#almost our of psychologist appointments too probably only have a few left#im tired i got my freedom but im miserable because of jt lmao#is this what I get for getting away from my family? i mean its for sure whaf happens when you grow up isolated without the chance to#make long term friends lmao#i dont even know what im saying any more i think im having a bit of a break down hffhf so im gonna shut myself up now#AceofDragons#vent
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Back off,kid.
Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader
Note ₊˚⊹♡ : (Teen)Gojo is jealous over (kid) Fushiguro having a crush on you.
Fushiguro Megumi always wonders if he made the right choice every time a white-haired sunglass wearing teenager walks into the house.
The tall older boy would grin as his hands form a salute. “You doing good Megumi and Tsumiki?”
He was as useful as the indoor plants. Fushiguro thought.
Gojo wasn’t much good at cooking and neither helped with cleaning, probably because of his rich background—but he did spoil them with lots of food and pocket money but he wouldn’t ever admit that.
As much as Fushiguro would love to throw insults at Gojo, he holds back his tongue each time; Tsumiki would send sharp glare and nag him if he did.
The first friend he brought to visit them was a girl; it was after Gojo went missing for a while and when Tsumiki inquired about it ,he simply said one of his dear friend went cray-cray as his finger twirls at the temple of his head.
The girl had short, brown hair with a distinct smell of cigarette; her name was Shoko Ieiri. She wore an impressed look when she entered the house as she looked over to Gojo. “Heh— The place is pretty neat,Gojo.”
Fushiguro looked to Gojo who placed some groceries on the counter top with a proud smile on his face. “I know right!” Gojo replies.
The young boy frowns. “It’s Tsumiki who keeps the place clean.” Shoko gives Gojo a stare before she cackles.
A week later when Tsumiki was still in school with club activities, another person makes an appearance ,you. He could faintly hear conversations between you and Gojo through the front door on how you’d actually wanted to visit them sooner but was bombarded with mission before it swings open.
The first thing Fushiguro noticed was how Gojo seemed to make you enter first— other times he barges in without a care for Shoko— his hands near your back with a slight space, without touching it. Why was Gojo being nice?
You blink at the dark haired boy. “Fushiguro Megumi, right?” Gojo peers from behind as you smile. “Did you eat?”
“Not yet. Waiting for Tsumiki to get home.” Fushiguro thinks you’re the first person who is kind of decent.
You nod take plastic bag from Gojo’s hands and lift up it, your smile widen. “I’ll make you some good stuff then.”
“I want to eat your cooking too,y/n.” Gojo chirps in only to be ignored. And to your credit, it was actually good. He didn’t remember the last time he had something this good home made.
After that, your visits seemed to increase which Fushiguro Megumi did not mind, in fact he was getting fond of your presence. You helped with food, cleaning which lessened the load on Tsumiki plus you also helped him with his studies.
“You seemed to get it now, Megumi.” Poor kid, blushes a bit hearing your compliment. “Practice this set of questions and I think you’ll do pretty well on your tests.” You smile.
Fushiguro nods as he does as you say, face still heated up. He looks up at you, who was reading a book. Your hair slightly in your face, lips slightly parted with eyes focused. You were extremely beautiful and as much as he wouldn’t admit it , he had a big fat kid crush on you.
“Megumi-chan.” Suddenly he is shoved to the side as a body makes way in between you and him. It was Gojo who sat in between. “Move over~ This seat is mine.”
The boy frowns and so did you, not liking Gojo’s action. “Don’t interrupt the kid, who is studying.” Kid? Ouch…You huff as your move over, despite you complaining you make space for him, focus back on your book.
Fushiguro watched as Gojo leans closer to you, almost resting his head on your neck as he looked over to your book; after a while eyes slowly moved over to you, his expression softens.
Gojo smiles as he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair, to which you don’t react as if it was normal. Thee older man then turns his head to Fushiguro—oops,he got caught staring.
The white haired boy then grins, a condescending one in fact as he mouths out the following words.
‘y/n-is-mine.” Fushiguro huffs. ‘back-off.”
·:*¨༺ Part 2༻¨*:·
Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo imagines#gojo imagine#gojo satoru imagine#gojo satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro imagine
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Underneath The Strobe Light
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Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )
Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023
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You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.
You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.
He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.
You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.
However— needing and wanting are two very different things.
And you want. So, so much.
Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.
You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.
World News Now?
Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.
Yeah, no.
You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.
It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.
Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.
It couldn't be anyone else.
About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.
The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.
"Hey," you offer.
"Hi," he obliges.
You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"
It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.
"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."
"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."
He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."
"And yet … "
"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."
"Fine?"
"Fine."
You don't want to let the silence set in.
"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."
"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."
"Asshole."
"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"
His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?
"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."
"Oh, really?"
Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."
"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."
He's almost cheeky when he speaks.
"It's life-changing."
You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."
Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"
"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"
"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."
You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.
After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.
"It's getting really late."
You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"
"Are you gonna head home?"
Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—
—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.
"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"
"It's not."
He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.
"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."
"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.
"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."
You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:
"Why don't you stay?"
Your own breath stutters in your chest.
"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.
"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."
His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"
"Why are you here, anyway?"
The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"
"It's not!" You exclaim.
Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.
"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"
You stop yourself.
"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.
Might as well, huh?
"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.
There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.
Then:
He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.
"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.
Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.
"Yeah?" You dare to ask.
Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.
"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.
You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.
You reach out.
He lets you lace your fingers through his.
Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.
You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.
"... Can I?"
His reply is almost instantaneous.
"Please."
You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.
He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!
His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.
You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.
However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.
It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.
He moans.
You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.
"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"
"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."
You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.
So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.
Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.
You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.
"Should I—"
"Yeah—"
With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.
All you want to do is keep going.
You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.
"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"
"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"
"Yes —"
"You want me to take 'em off?"
Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.
He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.
"Go on," you encourage.
He helps you move so he has easier access, and—
His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.
"Look what you did to me," you murmur.
He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.
Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—
Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.
"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"
"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.
"Mike —"
He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.
"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"
"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"
"Oh —"
The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.
Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—
Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.
Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.
You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—
"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.
"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.
"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.
You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.
When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.
"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."
You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—
"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.
True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.
He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "
"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."
Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.
He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.
Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.
"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."
"Yeah, okay."
When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.
The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.
"Thank you," he mumbles.
You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.
"For what?"
"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."
The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.
"You're welcome."
He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.
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He makes you cry during an Argument.
Arguments with these boys? What could possibly go wrong..
ೃ࿔*:･
Headcannons and short stories under the cut!
ೃ࿔*:･
TW!! talk of Hoodie stalking, but not major! I think that’s it!!
Jeffrey Hodex:
- you’d think an argument with your boyfriend who loves you oh so dearly would hopefully end in him apologizing. Wanting to make sure he didn’t say anything to you to hurt you.. but you sometimes forget he’s not the normal person.
-Jeff has anger issues and it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s brought up. So typically with any argument he has, his anger tends to get the better of him.
-which means if the argument is small it’s bound to be blown out of proportion, if it’s a pretty bad argument it’s about to be even worse.
-he doesn’t like to listen. To him he’s always right. He’s never wrong even if deep down he knows he actually fucked up he doesn’t want to admit it because he doesn’t want to look “weak” or too “soft”
-he typically doesn’t feel bad if you end up getting hurt emotionally, you’ll get a good ol scoff and roll of the eyes while he tells you “it’s not that big of a fucking deal, you don’t need to be so emotional.” Along the lines of that.
-but… you might just tug a few heart strings when he realized he’s made you cry. It’s when he sees that he’s scared you that he breaks a little. He’s got a habit of punching walls, breaking shit around the house when you both argue, screaming in your face.. and if it all leads to you finally breaking down and shaking that’s where he finally draws his line.
-he didn’t mean to scare you.. not like that at least. The last thing he wants is for you to be scared of him. He loves you.. even if he shows it in odd ways. He’s an asshole yes but he’s your asshole.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Would you just fucking Listen!” Jeff screamed out. His hands were immediately gripping onto his pants, trying his damned hardest to not punch the closest thing to him. But he can’t help himself the moment you cross your arms and give him that fucking look. “Jeffrey. Cut it out, I’ve listened to you for the past 40 fucking minutes.. you need to listen to me-“ you’re cut off quickly hearing his hand collide with the wall and a loud grunt leaving his lips. He’s slightly heaving, breathing heavily and hair a bit messy in front of his face. You jumped a bit, backing up quickly when he immediately whipped around to trudge towards you, black combat boots making him taller then he already was. His large hand was quick to grab your jaw and squish your cheeks together just slightly. “No you fucking listen to me. Stop being a fucking bitch. Why do you have to pick at everything I fucking do, huh?! Huh?!” If he was a scrawny guy you’d say you’d be able to at least get free but no.. no he was a big guy, tall. Muscular, broad shoulders.. built chest. His biceps twitched slightly as his grip grew harder. There was no way you were escaping this. Not with him. Your small hands pushed at his arm and your eyes watered, a tear falling onto his fingers. Oh.. Jeff’s grip softened as he slowly let go. His form lowering himself so he was at your level. “Oh baby.. oh..” his hands hesitated before cupping your cheeks and his lips are kissing at the corners of your lips, trailing towards your ear. “I didn’t mean it..” his voice is deep, gruff and low in your ear as you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry..” really it’s the only time you’ll get a sorry out of him, a genuine one at that.
Tobias Rogers
- he’s one of the ones who’s a bit more understanding. He can’t exactly understand physical pain or frustration but he can completely understand emotional pain and anger.. and how fucking awful it can be to handle. So when he’s stood, tall and lanky in front of you, hands swinging in the air and his voice raising he can suddenly feel the room shift to a hurt.. deep cut feeling.
- he tries not to yell he tries to hear you out when you both have an argument, but having BPD can be an issue when it comes to that.. you say one thing in a slight tone and he’s set off. Oh? So this is his fault suddenly? Why did you have to say it like that? You could have said it this way. Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole?
-when in reality that’s not how you meant it at all.. and yes Toby does feel bad for it afterwards he shouldn’t have lashed out that way, he should have sat and listened and maybe asked why you said it that way.. but sometimes things get the better of us.
-he’s not always the one to apologize afterwards but he does when he knows he really fucked up. He can’t lose you not to something so fucking stupid. “I-I’m sorry.. you didn’t deserve to hear that.. to e-endure any of that..” with a sniffle you look up at him teary eyed. Oh that really hurts. “It’s okay Toby” he’s immediately at your side, hands brushing your hair back and placing gentle kisses to your jaw. It kills him when you cry.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“I don’t know Toby I’m just tired..” this is what set him off. The way you said it. You were tired? of this? Of him? Of this relationship? “Are you fucking serious?” He speaks with his teeth clenched together, his head resting in his hands before he’s looking up at your slowly. His body slightly twitches from time to time, though when he was angry it usually became an issue for him, twitching far too often, clearing his throat more aggressively. His tics would normally become more violent in some ways. “Are we just d-done then? That’s it just b-because you’re tired yo-you can’t fucking walk away-“ his arm flys up in the air as he stands, his hands coming to rub at his face and the patch of hair on his chin. His tired droopy eyes dart towards you. You didn’t necessarily start crying because he scared you it was more of the the stress of the situation. “Toby please that’s not what I meant.” He still hasn’t noticed as his tall figure is rambling on, tics making his occasional grip and smack to his leg but he of course can’t feel it. When he finally looks at you he realizes you’ve been crying and it stops. The room becomes quiet and he twitches a few more times before softly kneeling on the floor where you sat. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that.. I’m sorry..” he’s softly laying you down on the floor as his lips trail your neck, his hands placing your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles against your neck.
-Ben Lawman/drowned
- to be honest he’s probably not the one who started it. He’s usually pretty calm, and quiet…. Except for when he wants to act like a child and become ignorant and downright inappropriate.
-he can be perverted.. gross and this is usually where the arguments start, not that you don’t like him nor the way he acts it’s more when he says things he shouldn’t be saying. So you typically end up yelling at him and he will normally sit embarrassed and feeling a bit guilty.. he didn’t think you’d get so upset.
- on occasion if the argument isn’t about that and about something else he still is usually the one to just take it but there are rare moments where he snaps back. And when he does. Oh boy.
-constant pacing back and forth, hands in his hair, sharp glares at you and laughing in disbelief. He’ll sometimes say things he doesn’t mean. He’s usually not one to yell but when he does you aren’t really expecting it. So it scares you.. and the tears finally break.
- ben only stares for a moment. “Shit.” Yeah he fucked up big time. He immediately feels guilty and he immediately rushes towards you to pull you into a tight embrace. He didn’t mean to take it that far.. he really didn’t, knowing it was him who made you cry makes him want to break down himself.
ೃ࿔*:･
“You can hate me yknow, I won’t blame you, or be angry..” Ben mumbled against your hair, your sniffling shattering his dead heart even further. You look up at the blonde, your fingers lacing their way into his hair as you force a bit of a smile “I just.. I hate when we argue like that..” your voice breaks causing Ben to swallow. Oh no. There’s that lump in his throat. His hands rub at your back before feeling his way towards your lower half, squeezing gently. “I know babe. Don’t listen to me when I get like that yeah?” You give a gentle smile as he softly lifts you up, bringing you closer as he grabs his controller, getting ready to play his game and have you relax against him. Occasionally he’ll presses kisses to your forehead. He doesn’t like to talk about the arguments, maybe because he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions and yours at the same time or maybe he’s just scared it’ll lead to another argument, but he apologized like he always does and makes sure your comfy against him while he games. As long as you’re content with it, he’s content.
-Masky/ Tim Wright
- a bit like Jeff I just think he’s a bit more mellow, he won’t ever apologize unless he knows he’s actually in the wrong. Which ends up being majority of the time. You know he has his episodes, where he blacks out and doesn’t remember a lot of the things he ends up doing.
- he will sometimes black out during an argument. It’s not often but when he does it’s like arguing with a brick wall. Like Jeff he won’t listen. He refuses to listen to anything you say because In the moment he’s the one who’s right. But he’ll never go as far to say mean things like Jeff does. No Tim tends to stop himself before he does.
-he storms off frequently. I think he more or so hates the emotions that comes with this. He hates the yelling, the way you look at him with disbelief and anger.. Its more so he doesn’t feel like fucking shit up for being an asshole to someone who genuinely cares about him. So he leaves you to your emotions to figure out, and if they aren’t figured out by the time he gets back he tries his best to help. Even if he does seem annoyed.
- typically your arguments are more him being snarky, sarcastic and being too logical, he can raise his voice from time to time but he’s only ever yelled at you once, and he still beats him self up for it to this day. Seeing you cry at how angry he got, how you still reached out for him in your meltdown caused by him.. and you still reached for him.
ೃ࿔*:･
“They’re pills y/n, prescription pills. I’ll be fine you know I need to take them. Why do I need to keep telling you thi-“ you cut him off quickly your voice already laced with concern as it shook. “Because you take more then you should be taking Tim. I don’t like it I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” he understood where you came from yes but what you needed to do was stop it. Just stop worrying about him. “Please for the love of god, I’m fine! I’m fucking fine! I’ll be fine! Please just stop it. I hate how much you worry and stress yourself over me. They’re fucking pills, I take them when needed. So just stop!” Now he didn’t scream super loud, but it was loud enough for you to feel the lumpy tingly feeling in your throat bubble, your hands softly twisting together “s-sorry..” you squeaked out. Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip quivered. He watched you carefully for a moment, grimacing a bit as he watched your face twist with sadness.. and you slowly making your way towards him. Tim opens his arms and quietly pulls you in, one hand rubbing at the back of your head and the other gripping your back. “I’m an asshole. I know you’re just worried.” He mumbled quietly, lips pressed to your forehead as you hide your face in his chest. “You’re okay..” he continues to mumble, awkwardly trying to find a way to comfort you further.
Hoodie/ Brian Thomas
-he’s quiet. Very quiet. I think he’s the most gentle when it comes to arguments with his S/O. He’s scared to hurt you, always in any circumstances. He’s more observant, he knows when the argument gets too much for you just by a single movement.
-though he does have his moments where he does get angry back, he can normally control his temper. Usually the argument starts by something he’s done so he can handle it, he can deal with it. He tells you “I promise I’ll change, just give me some time” and you believe him because he does change but then he falls back into his habits, leaving for weeks on end, taking too many pills, his stalker tendencies.
-the argument this time is unclear, you probably don’t even remember by the Time Brian starts yelling back at you. His hair is messy from running his hands through it one too many times, he’s clenching his fists and trying to breathe as he shakily keeps his voice down.
-even in moments like this he still thinks of you. Not wanting to hurt you nor scare you.. he just lets you have your outburst and then you both move on. But tonight was different.
-he tends to ignore you when he gets worked up in an argument. If he’s not yelling back then majority of the time he’s just silent. His back towards you. But only when he’s angry right back at you. He’ll give you that silent treatment for hours.
-but this time. He made you cry. And he’s stopped dead in his tracks, eyes softening, getting down on his knees and resting his head against your stomach,his hands holding onto your waist. Sigh… he just had to fuck shit up again didn’t he.
ೃ࿔*:･
“Brian you can’t just leave me for weeks on end.. you can’t just.. disappear then show up like nothings happened. Where do you go..? Is there someone else” at this point he’s just been listening to you, letting you vent out but when you suddenly accuse him of cheating on you.. he snaps. You really think HE would cheat on you?! It’s not like he didn’t spend months watching you, becoming so infatuated with you to the point that it would make anybody so fucking sick to their stomach. But he couldn’t tell you that he couldn’t tell you he’s loved you far longer. So he stands, looks at you with anger in his eyes, a hint of sadness flashing on his face “don’t fucking accuse me of cheating on you.” He points a shaky finger in your face “don’t you ever. You don’t understand the shit I’d do for you, the shit I DO for you.” He’s close now, watching as you look up at him shakily. “This S-still doesn’t explain where you go Brian.. you-“ he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you close “no listen to me. I want to tell you I want to tell you so badly but I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t.” His eyes are averting he’s becoming shaky himself, he’s panicking. Trust him. Is what he wants to tell you, that It’ll all be okay, he’ll be okay in a couple of days, he’ll change just give him time.. but he can’t lie to you.. not now. It would only make shit worse for you in this moment. When he finally looks back at you he sees you staring up at him, not a word spoken but tears streaming down your face, and your wrists still held tight in his large hands. “I..” he softly brings your hand down, lowering himself to the ground as he watches you still stare straight ahead. He scared you. Brian goes silent and lets himself sit on his knees, his hands running up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and burying his head into your stomach. “I’m sorry” he whispered gently, shivering when he feels your hands curl into his hair and finally look down at him. You know he feels guilty. He’s only trying to protect you.
#creepypasta#masky x reader#ticci toby#ben drowned#jeff the killer#hoodie x reader#marble hornets#jeff the killer x reader#ben drowned x reader#ticci toby x reader#brian thomas x reader#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x female reader#masky x you#masky x y/n#hoodie x you#hoodie x y/n#jeff the killer x you#jeff the killer x y/n#ticci toby x y/n#ticci toby x you#ben drowned x y/n#ben drowned x you
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Tangerine
Oscar Piastri x reader
Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2
Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo
The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.
You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.
Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.
He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”
You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”
He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”
You raise your brows right back. “Working?”
You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.
“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”
He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.
“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”
He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”
You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”
You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.
It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.
“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”
He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”
You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.
“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”
Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”
You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.
He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.
He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”
“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”
“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.
“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.
“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”
“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”
“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”
You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.
“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“
He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.
“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”
You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.
“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.
You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.
“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”
“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.
He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”
You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”
You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.
You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.
You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.
…..
You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.
You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.
“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.
“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.
Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.
Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”
Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.
…..
Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.
“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.
“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”
You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”
When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.
You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.
What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.
“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.
“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.
“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”
You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”
He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.
“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.
You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”
Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”
He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.
“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.
He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”
“Right, we established that.”
“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.
You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”
“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”
“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”
“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”
“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”
“No, you won’t.”
You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.
…..
Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.
You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.
You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.
You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.
“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.
“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”
You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.
“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”
To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.
“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”
“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”
Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.
“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”
“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”
…..
Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.
When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.
The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.
You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.
He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”
You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.
“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.
“No judgement?” You ask.
“No judgement,” he promises.
You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”
He nods. “Sleep?”
“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.
He nods again. “Can I come with?”
You blank, staring at him. “What?”
“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”
Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.
“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”
“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.
You hook yours with his and seal the deal.
…..
You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.
“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.
It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.
After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.
You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.
“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.
You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“
“Insomnia,” he suggests.
“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”
You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.
You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.
Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.
“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”
You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”
He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”
“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.
“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.
Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.
You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.
“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”
Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.
By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.
“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.
He smiles. “Are you tired?”
You sigh. “No, but you are.”
“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”
You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”
He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”
You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”
He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”
“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”
“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”
“Me neither.”
You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.
The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.
He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.
The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.
“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”
“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.
“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.
Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.
“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.
“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”
Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.
Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“
“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”
He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.
It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.
“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”
“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”
He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”
That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.
“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”
You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.
You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.
“Sorry,” you mumble.
“For what?” He asks, voice steady.
“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”
Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”
You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.
“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“
“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“
He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.
“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”
He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”
“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”
You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”
Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.
“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”
You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.
“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”
“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”
“Why would you want to?”
“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”
You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.
“If you want that,” he says, voice low.
You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”
He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.
“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“
You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.
…..
Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.
He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”
Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.
You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.
You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.
“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”
You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.
You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”
He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“
“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.
It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.
“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.
He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.
You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.
He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.
When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.
…..
“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.
You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”
Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.
“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.
You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.
check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here
thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all
#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#formula 1 fanfic#f1 oneshot#f1 fanfic#Oscar piastri oneshot#pls be gentle I am tired#honeywrites#op81#Oscar piastri#tangerine!verse
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Cry - Matt Sturniolo
summary: you and your boyfriend, matt, have spent the day together. you've been snapping at him the whole time, until it gets too much for matt and you accidentally make him cry. you find a way to make everything up to him.
contains: sub!matt, nsfw, blowjob?, matt crying, angst.
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matt and i have been dating for 7 months, sure, we’ve argued before but it’s never lasted more than a day and it’s never affected us that much. i’ve never seen matt cry, according to his brothers he hates crying infront of people, or even talking about it.
today we’ve been bickering non stop, i’ve been making snarky comments and snapping at him for pathetic reasons, matt’s just been ignoring it.
9:24pm
i sit on the dining table, matt directly opposite me on his phone as he takes small bites of his dinner. “matt.” i say, my voice almost like a robot.
“mhm?” he hums, his eyes fixed on his screen, i groan, “for fucks sake matt.” i huff under my breath.
“what is it?” matt asks, his finger continuing to scroll across his screen.
i don't know why i've been so on edge today, everything matt's done has pissed me off. the way his hand is cemented onto his phone pisses me off.
“fucking stop! you don’t even care about me the only thing you do is go on your phone, your an actual excuse of a boyfriend.”
the words leave my mouth quicker than i can process, i don’t even fully comprehend what i’m saying.
i finish off my yelling fit by slamming matt’s phone out of his hands.
he stands up abruptly, his bottom lip shaking as his eyes well with tears. “don’t fucking say that.”
i scoff, folding my arms and playing with my nails. matt lets in a sharp inhale, a shaky sob exiting his mouth.
my head snaps up to look at him, he’s got tears soaking his pink cheeks, his lips a raw red. he reaches his ringed fingers up to rub his eyes before speed walking out of the dining room, directly towards our bedroom.
my heart drops, an aching infecting my body. i feel a wave of guilt wash over me, tears somehow prickling in the corners of my eyes. i wipe my face quickly,
i’ve just made matt cry. shit.
i stand up from my wooden chair, the chair legs screeching on the wooden floor.
my footsteps tap on the ground as i slowly walk towards matt and i’s shared room, the door is shut.
i stand outside for a few seconds, pressing my ear, which is decorated in sets of earrings, up to the wooden planks.
i hear sniffles coming from inside the room, and small crys. my heart pounds against my ribs as i twist the door handle.
i’m met with matt’s body which is sitting at his desk, his back facing me. i’m not sure he heard me, so i walk over to him.
i tap his grey sweater, the cute wool sweater that he wears whenever he’s cold, the sweater his mom gave him in high school, which still fits him.
i feel him tense under me, he swings his head round to look at me, his eyelashes are dark and wet, his cheeks a deep red and his lips swollen.
i take one look at him and my stomach forms a pit, i wrap my arms around his neck, yanking him into a deathly tight hug as i bend down to his seated height.
matt doesn’t hug me back, his arms hang loosely by his sides. i bury my head into the crook of his neck,
after a few seconds i pull away, visible nerves on my face, matt’s tilts his head down to his lap, where his hands rest, fiddling with his rings.
“matt please, look at me.” i say, my voice barely audible. his head shakes, i nod my head “okay.” i whisper.
“i’m so sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean any of that, i promise it’s just the week before my period. you know i get in these stupid moods that i can’t handle.” i say softly,
matt continues to stare down at his lap.
i get down on my knees my hands resting on his thighs, my nails scratching the material of his sweatpants.
im at the height where i can see his full face, his lips slightly pouted. i stare up at him, his eyes lock with mine for a split second. my hands travel to his waistband and grip the elastic, i look up at him again, asking for permission. matt's gaze drifts to my eyes again, he nods, his top teeth sinking into his lower lip.
i pull down his sweatpants to his midthighs, he's got no boxers on, already half hard.
i brush my thumb over his tip, earning a shaky groan from matt. i maintain eye contact with him, i feel him grow fully hard in my hand. i run my hand up his length a few times before taking my hands off him completley.
"please" matt clears his throat, "please what?" i tease, resting my hands on his thighs, he almost looks as though he’s going to cry again,
i can see his breathing intensify, "tell me what you want." i say calmly, matt lets out a whine, his leg bobbing up and down on the spot, "please." matt breathes out again.
i lean foward, wrapping my lips around matt's tip, a soft moan exits his mouth as he gentley tangles his fingers into my hair. i swirl my tongue around his tips before taking more of him further down my throat.
"close-" matt warns, bucking his hips up as his hands grip my hair tighter. i pull off his cock for a second to catch a needed breath,
"i need to." matt protests as his cheeks flush, small droplets of sweat gathering on his forehead, he runs his hand though my hair. i wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, "i know, i know." i say, quickly wrapping my mouth around him again as i scratch his thighs with my nails.
i bob my head up and down quicker, matts whimpers filling the room. i look up at him with doe eyes, he squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting his cock deeper into my mouth.
i can see his breathing intensifying before he releases in my mouth, i pull off of him.
matt leans back in his chair, before quickly reaching a hand down under my mouth, i spit it out into his hand "sorry.." matt laughs slightly, grabbing a bunch of tissues and cleaning his hand and my lips.
"don't say sorry matt, my fault for getting you so worked up." i say, standing up and grabbing matts arm, pulling him up onto his feet. i lead him towards the bed, he stumbles slightly as he recovers from his orgasm.
i sit down on the bed, my back resting against the headboard. matt lays down next to me, i pull his head onto my chest.
"matt, i feel really bad." i start,
"what? for what? that was the best fucking experience i've had all month, the nails did somethin-" he rambles, i cut him off.
"no! about the things i said, and.. you know.. making you cry" i say with a small laugh.
"trust me, you made up for it, can you do the same tomorrow so i can get another blow job." matt smiles, i run a hand through his hair, shaking my head with a scoff.
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#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fluff
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Danny is desperately running away. Not from a robber, they’re not much of a threat to him anyways, but from a really intense Batman.
“Oh my ancients,” he muttered as he sprinted away from the dude swinging above him. “Can you please go away?! I already paid you back, dude!” Danny raised his voice at the swooping figure above him. He wished he could go ghost, but that would break his cover so fast as a “meta” or whatever.
“Stop running,” Batman landed in front of him, growl reverberating around them.
“Stop chasing me then! It’s bad manners!” And Danny’s from the midwest, so that’s an actual concern.
“How did you find Two-Face?” Batman loomed before stepping back when Danny’s shoulders curled inwards.
“Oh. Is that what this is all about?” Danny huffed. “It was self defense! And… the pun was too good to not, you know? Yeah, no, I had to. Prime opportunity.”
The cowl might hide it but Danny always knew when people are doing that nose pinch of exasperation. It’s a talent he carefully cultivated through shenanigans and puns.
Batman? Definitely inwardly pinching the bridge of his nose.
“How did you find him? Harvey Dent is a dangerous criminal.”
“In my defense,” Danny started, like a teenager caught guiltily shoving the entire cookie jar into his room instead of leaving some for the rest of the family. “He found me first. Well, no, he found the kids first. He started it!”
Batman somehow raised an eyebrow. How the hell does he do that?? The cowl covered the entire upper half of his face! Danny squinted at him. Is Batman a meta?
“Listen, I didn’t start it, but my sister sure as heck taught me how to end it. It’s not my fault Dent couldn’t handle a beat down. And I told you I was gonna pay you back for that one (1) Big Dent! If you wanted cash, you should have said so!”
“Hrm.”
Maybe it was the fancy gear. Maybe it was the pointy head thing. Batman reminded Danny way too much of Vlad and he got the ick.
“Okay, well, good talk, bye!” Danny ducked and ran, faster than he had before.
Batman grappled up and forward, trying to grab him. Danny, with years of dodge training under his belt and impeccable teenage instincts of gtfo, managed to dodge Batman’s reaching hands with a hollered “OPE!”
“Bye! See you never!” Danny ducked behind an alley and turned invisible as Batman swooped past.
When he was sure the vigilante was gone, he slowly faded into the visible spectrum.
“Jeez. Better warn Amy about this. Maybe I should hide in Crime Alley until this blows past.”
——
Gotham’s underbelly had a new tale to sling around their bars that week and a new demographic to be wary of.
The Terrors, the kiddie gang that ran perpendicular to Crime alley, was preyed on by Harvey Dent.
“What do you think you’re doing to them?!”
“Ahhhhhh!!!” Harvey screamed, flailing as a creature of shadows and claws- god damn those sharp ass claws- descended upon him, scarring it just one side but both sides of his very vulnerable face!
“Back the hell off of my kids, you fashion reject!”
As for Harvey… well, he’s developed an aversion to the smell of peanut butter and small children.
——
Batman, hunting down Danny because he’s worried about the endangered meta kid: you left me a Dent.
Danny, because he sees a vigilante bum rushing him: I have no cash! That’s the only way I can pay you back rn!
——
Batman, trying to lecture Danny about safety because he’s a worried batdad:
Danny: ew a rich stalker trying to be my dad!
@tricksterwitchkat can you tell I’ve been thinking about your pun for days? This is for you, thank you so much for that pun, it made my entire week.
#batman#danny phantom#bruce wayne#dc x dp#harvey dent#two face#two face is not having a good time#Danny and his little sister’s kiddie gang#bamf danny phantom#ope being a thing I’ve heard midwesterners say#I think
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꒰ :🥀 [ May I have this dance? ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯
Summary : It was a late stormy night at the hotel, you weren't able to sleep, but when you sneaked into the kitchen a certain red-haired demon was humming to a tune while cooking.
Pairing : Alastor x Reader
Word count : 1309 Words
Genre : Fluff
Warnings ➵ None
a/n : Dancing with Alastor? Sign me up (even tho I cannot dance and he would probably kill me for stepping on his feet..-)
Also I personally cannot dance, so I'm sorry if the description of the dancing seems a bit off!
┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡
For once it was storming in hell, it was a very rare occasion, but once it did storm, it was crazy. The whole city had a blackout, VoxTech was probably going crazy right now. Meanwhile, the hotel was cozy, Alastor used his magic and brought out some candles, so the hotel was clad in nice candlelight now.
Yet here you were laying in your bed, not able to fall asleep. Outside your window the rain was slamming against it, lightning and thunder could be heard every few seconds. Sighing you swing your legs back out of your bed, it is no use, you won't be able to fall asleep like this. Feet hitting the cold floor, a shudder running over your body. Slipping on some socks and a jacket, you take the candle holder from your nightstand and light the candle up again, before you make your way out of the room.
Slowly and quietly you make your way downstairs to the foyer and then to the kitchen, everyone else was probably asleep right now, so that's why you were almost going on your toes. Arriving at the kitchen, the door closed, you noticed soft light shining underneath the door gap, wondering who was in the kitchen this late at night. Opening the door a bit to slip a glance inside, you see Alastor at the stove, candles were lit all around the kitchen, indulging it in soft light. The stove was going with fire, probably thanks to Alastor's magic. He was stirring something in the pot, you couldn't see what it was, but the smell it gave off was enticing.
"How long do you intend to stand there and gawk at me, darling? Come on inside!" Alastor did not turn around at all, making you wonder how you were noticed, unknown to you, his shadow was watching you the entire time since you began to sneak a peak inside. Entering the kitchen now, you close the door behind you softly, pulling your jacket closer around you. Your feet carry you over to Alastor, glancing into the pot. He was making some stew, you couldn't really tell what every ingredient was, but it smelled good. "Open up dear~" Holding the wooden spoon up, he let you have a taste and it was incredible, he had a hand for cooking. It was a slight bit spicy, but not too much. "It's very nice!" Nodding now, as you slowly start to get the things out you actually came for, a cup of tea.
"Oh dear, let me make this for you, do take a seat." Grabbing the cup from your hands, you look at him a bit flabbergasted, yet do as he said and sit down. "Why are you even awake this late? And cooking on top of that?" Watching him, just now you notice how he was still wearing his normal attire, he hadn't changed into sleepwear yet. The only thing he took off was his coat and bow, the first button of his shit open, yet he still looked proper as always. "Oh I just felt like cooking something up, couldn't really rest." Was his answer to your question, afterwards it got quiet again.
Just now you notice how some jazz was playing from his staff, Alastor was tapping his foot along to the rhythm. It was a nice change for once here in hell, simply enjoying some music and calmness. "Do tell me, darling, do you dance?" Looking over his shoulder with a mischievous smirk, smiling and smirks were normal for him, yet this one looked daring and playful. "I'm not really skilled at it if I'm honest, I prefer watching others." Alastor's eyebrow quirked up a bit, the lid of the pot was placed on it now, letting the stew simmer for now. Your tea was almost ready too, as he strode over to you. His hand was extended out to you now, his playful smile a tad bit bigger now. "I beg to differ, my dear, I think you may be a skilled dancer, with the right person to lead you, so.. may I have this dance?" The jazz music getting a tad bit louder now, as he awaits for you to place your hand in his. For a second you were unsure, yet placed your trust in him, in other occasions this may be a bad idea, but right now it's simply a dance.
With a quick pull, you were on your feet, as Alastor slowly started to lead you, the music slowed down a bit, while he took the lead to guide you, probably taking it slow at the start right now. The dance was a swing to the jazz music playing, the more he guided you and twirled you around, the more you got the hang of it. Letting Alastor and the music guide you, the next song was slowly picking up the pace, he was obviously enjoying this, having fun with twirling you around to his heart's content.
"You see my dear, you were only missing the correct partner to make you a darling little dancer~" His words made you blush a slight bit, it wasn't unusual for Alastor to talk to you or Charlie with pet names like dear or darling, but somehow his words now had a different tune to it, they were soft, like he meant what he said with his whole heart. "I guess you're right.." Agreeing with him, as he now noticed how you were slowly getting out of breath, the music slowing down to a waltz, as he pulled you in closer to his body now, his hand now placed on your waist, as his other one holds yours in a soft grip, as on instinct your hand finds its place on his shoulder.
This felt different than before.. more intimate than the fun swing before, his face wore a soft smile, as he looked down at yours, your eyes avoiding his a bit now, too shy to face him. A chuckle makes you raise your head again though, noticing how close he was to you now, mere centimeters between you two.
"So mon amour, how did you like this?" The music was still going and so was Alastor, softly guiding you to the music, but not as concentrated anymore as before. "You definitely are a great guide, it was fun, though I was a tad bit nervous I must admit." Chuckling at your response, he nods. "Don't worry your pretty little head, you were fabulous, like a little dove." Letting your hand go now, he comes to a stop, takes a step away from you and back to the stove. Your breath was still the slightest bit harder from the dancing, you were just happy you didn't end up stepping on his feet or anything.
"Your tea darling, head on out to your room and sleep soon, it's late, can't have you missing sleep now can we?" The cup was placed in your hand, as he guided you to the kitchen door with a hand on your lower back. "Thanks, sleep well too Al!" Giving him a soft smile, as you turn to go back to your room. "Let's repeat this another time darling." His words bring a slight red hue to your face again, as you nod in agreement, before making your way back to your room. Alastor closed the door with a content smile, he didn't get to dance often, and dancing with you, his little darling? An amazing turn of events.
The next day the power was back and the storm gone, the cup on your nightstand empty and after exhausting yourself with dancing, you slept like a kitten this night.
And let's just say, Alastor pulled you into a dance here or there more often now than you thought he would.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin imagine#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel x you#alastor#alastor x you#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x reader
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hi m!!! what do you think about bf!pete getting his wisdom teeth out? and the reader taking care of him?? hed be so funny lmao xxD
-🧸
pairing: bf!peter parker x reader
w/c: 750
a/n: hi anon!! thnk u for requesting i had sm fun writing this! :)
you’re sat at the dentist's office, cooped up in those uncomfortable chairs while you anxiously waited for your boyfriend’s surgery to finish.
when peter ranted and moaned nonstop over his constant toothache, may decided enough was enough, and took it upon herself to set an appointment for her nephew. he wasn’t too keen on the idea. peter wasn’t afraid of anything ninety-nine percent of the time. dentists, however, wasn’t one of them.
“can’t you stay here with me?”
“stay? baby, no they’re gonna be drilling in your teeth.”
“but i-”
“and it’s gonna be bloody and nasty and i don’t wanna have to see all that.”
you turn towards him, only to come face to face with the boy’s horrified look, his eyes are wide and skin pale, mouth open in shock. you cringe at your response.
“but,” you stand, “you’re gonna do amazing, you’re gonna sit here and let the dentist do his magic.” you smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead.
“y/n/n, wait but-” you drop his hand on the way out, “bye, love you baby! be good!”
“y/n!”
two hours later swing by when a woman in navy scrubs comes to get you, announcing that peter is out of surgery.
you knew that he would be high out of his mind on laughing gas, you just didn’t think it would be this bad.
when you enter, the dentist is off to the side, looking over charts, packing a care bag for his patient.
peter’s head lulls towards your touch on his shoulder and slowly blinks at your presence.
“hi baby, how you feeling?” you give him a beaming smile.
your boyfriend does his best to muster the same grin, but the amount of gauze in his mouth makes his rosy cheeks puff out, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth.
peter takes a moment to stare at you, “woaahh” he languidly slurs his words, “you’re so pretty.”
you giggle at the comment when the boy gasps in horror, “wait, wait, i have a girlfriend, and she’s-” he looks up at you worriedly and slaps his forehead, “i’m in trouble.”
you can’t help but let out a laugh, he’s so dopey.
your fingers touch the bottom of his chin gently and lift his head, “i’m your girlfriend, silly.”
a loud gasp escapes peter as his face turns ecstatic, “get out!” you giggle at his reaction, the dentist glances over at you two and offers an admiring smile.
“so do we have sex?”
the awkward silence in the room kills you.
your face blushes, as you shake your head and clear your throat, “peter, no.”
“no?!” he sighs in disappointment, “aw man.” your boyfriend pouts at the floor, “what have i been doing with my life.”
“oh my god, pete,” when the dentist turns away, you whisper and offer him a shrug, “sometimes we do.”
the delight on his face returns and his eyes go wide, “really?!”
the boy seriously has no filter.
as you’re packing his things, peter pauses and pokes his cheeks, “wait y/n,” he pauses, “my face kinda feels weird.”
you look around and hand him a mirror from the counter, “oh my god…” peter gingerly touches his face as you kneel down at him, “what’s wrong, baby?”
“my face… it’s so fat!” he’s got tears in his eyes and whining with a jutted bottom lip, “y/n,” sniffle. “will-” sniffle. “will you still love me if my face is so fat?”
you roll your eyes and smile at his antics, “of course, i would.”
he seems pleased with your answer because he’s back to smiling. you go back to packing his things. “hey, mr dentist,” he woozily slurs, the gauze is practically spilling out his mouth, “d’you know i’m spider-man?”
you mentally facepalm at his obliviousness and mutter, “jesus christ.”
you turn to the older man who’s chuckling at his mental state and shrug, “he also thinks he’s luke skywalker from star wars.”
“but i am!-” “okay bug boy, lets go.”
“where we going?”
“home, sweetie.”
he gasps eagerly and raises his eyebrows at you, “to have sex?”
“oh my god.”
soon after the dentist explains and hands you everything he needs to recover, you guide peter to the car.
he’s extremely dramatic.
he’s got his hands around your shoulders, dragging himself on the floor, acting like he can’t walk - which he definitely can.
“peter, i know you can walk. c’mon help me out,” you beg.
“no, i can’t" he moans, "carry me,” he demands.
“what? no,”
“why not?”
“because you’re too heavy.”
and he’s crying all over again, “i knew it! you hate me 'cause you think my face is too fat!”
#m's clubhouse! 🎧#m writes ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#🧸 anon#peter parker#peter parker x y/n#mcu!peter parker x reader#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#tom!peter parker x reader#tom!spiderman#peter parker x reader#peter x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman#spider-man#spiderman x reader#peter parker smut#peter parker blurb#peter parker oneshot#peter parker fic#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland smut#tom holland peter parker#peter parker angst#peter parker writing#college peter parker#mandy's clubhouse! 🎧
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