#this was fun to write and even more fun to see my beta readers react to
Text
rest for the weary
(neuvillette x fem!reader) [sfw]
༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to as 'girl'), no established relationship
༻❁༺ word count: ~1.9k
༻❁༺ tags: sickfic? sort of?, mild hurt/comfort, gentle and tender Neuvillette, being overworked, fainting, neuvillette is sexy in a paramedic kind of way, crimes against gloves, almost-crimes against pastries, "you will be taken care of So Help Me" neuvillette, very self indulgent, can you tell i'm a college student
༻❁༺ author’s note: blame my mutuals for putting talk about neuvillette being gentlemanly and kind on my twitter feed. this is their fault and also the four glasses of sangria i drank before i wrote this
Neuvillette would like to believe he understands human behavior quite well by now. What he does not understand is their tendency to be self-sacrificial to the point of exhaustion. When your stress reaches a fever pitch, he steps in.
You don’t remember if it was the fatigue or the hunger that you noticed first. Both have been on the fringes of your consciousness since you left your bed early this morning. Right now, they’re kept at bay only by a lingering headache that worsens as you step out into the clear day.
The beautiful azure of the morning sky above. The flocks of pigeons that dapple the steps of the Palais Mermonia like sunlight through leaves. The hum of the Court of Fontaine as coffee sales begin for the morning. All are lost on you as you forge ahead, feet barely clearing the cobblestone below them.
The papers on your desk, stacked high and demanding attention, are all that your bleary eyes register at the moment. Anything else is secondary.
As much as your conscience would contend it, your current predicament isn’t entirely your fault. Sure, you had procrastinated a bit when the pile of records was first assigned to you, and maybe hadn’t chipped away at it the way you could’ve if you planned ahead.
For a gestionnaire, though, it’s also just that time of year when the clouds pour rain daily and the opera house sees a never-ending rotation of cases.
So if that means some sacrifices on your side are required, you’re willing to make them for the good of the Court. You’re certainly not the only one, either. The circles under the Chief Justice’s eyes always grow darker during the rainy season; you hope he’s taking better care of himself than you are.
Once you’ve gotten rid of this batch of paperwork, you’ll be free to rest for a while, you tell yourself. You can take a break. Maybe you could walk to that cafe down the street with the nice cashier and get yourself breakfast, if the rain isn't too bad by midmorning.
Your knees waver under you as you carry the precarious stack of records to the threshold of your office. On second thought, maybe you should ask if they offer delivery.
The low murmur of a familiar voice, a pleasant bass melody, reaches you as you step out into the plush carpet of the hallway. It floats through your dizzy head like syrup.
Good. You won’t have to walk far to give these to Neuvillette, then. You’re not sure your feet would carry you all the way to his office anyway, and you’d rather not field any uncomfortable questions about your health from such an esteemed man.
Assuming what you hope is a pleasant expression, you approach the Iudex and Sedene as he bends at the waist to inspect a bump on her antler.
There’s a very becoming look of concern on his face, you notice. It must be nice to be the focus of such care.
The unfazed voice of a Melusine comes from somewhere below you: “I promise it’s just a mosquito bite, Monsieur. I must’ve stood around the docks for too long this morning.”
“Even so... I would administer some anti-inflammatory soon, Sedene. Please don’t neglect your health,” he chides as he pats her head affectionately.
Neuvillette rises again to his full height, catching your eye as you draw near to him.
A fetching smile upturns the corners of his mouth. He greets you with a stately nod, holding out his right hand for your stack of records. Your gaze flits to his other hand, currently engaged by an apple turnover.
Ah. A gift from a Melusine, no doubt. You hope he enjoys it, even if a part of your brain wants you to snatch it for yourself.
If Neuvillette catches the way your eyes linger on his breakfast, he doesn’t mention it. What he does is quirk his head to the left in a silent question as he continues to stand with his hand outstretched.
Oh, archons. How long have you been standing in front of him with a blank look on your face? Too long to be appropriate, certainly.
Clearing your throat and forcing a smile, you take a step forward to hand off your pile of papers to him. Only, instead of making contact with the floor of the hallway, your shoe falls into thin air as your other knee buckles and your back falls towards the carpet.
As your consciousness slips, you feel a cool hand snake around your waist.
Your head goes limp, bouncing a bit with the impact until the pastry drops to the carpet and Neuvillette’s other gloved hand comes to cradle the back of your neck.
He’s caught you. He wishes you were awake to instruct him what to do next.
He lowers you to the ground softly, brow creased with worry. Sedene stands next to him with a similar expression, holding the turnover she saved as it fell.
“Sedene. Bring me a pillow from the sofa in my office, please. Quickly.”
The Melusine salutes and she darts off. His eyes never leave your face as he kneels, large frame bent over you protectively.
Releasing your waist, he brings a hand up to his teeth and tugs off the glove in a smooth motion before resting his bare fingers against your forehead. A curse in a tongue unknown to all but him breaks the quiet air and his brows knit together. Humans and their damned self-sacrificial nature.
Sedene returns holding a cushion. He eases it under your head with care, ensuring your neck is supported before he retracts the hand underneath.
There in the Palais hallway, the Iudex of Fontaine strips himself of his judge’s coat, uncaring of decorum at the moment. Gentle hands graze your bare skin as he wraps the garment around your shoulders. Were you conscious, you would feel the softness of the silk lining against your cheek and the scent of the ocean it carries with it.
He knows from his extensive observations of human behavior that you’ve probably only collapsed from fatigue, not sickness. And yet… and yet he cannot keep himself from stroking your forehead, cool fingertips resting there as he meditates.
Another moment passes before he makes up his mind. Your body rises from the carpeted hallway floor into strong arms, seldom-seen muscles flexing under his white undershirt.
The change in altitude brings you halfway out of your daze. Through hazy vision, you catch the sight of pale skin moving above you. His slit eyes meet yours and you don't manage more than a small sound of confusion before you’re pulled back under by sleep.
With a brief nod to Sedene, Neuvillette carries you to his office in a few quick strides. The door slides shut behind him.
Your hands unconsciously tug on his lapels and you curl your body closer to the warmth of his chest, making his ears burn.
Every time he thinks he understands your species, something like this happens.
He had certainly noticed your energy waning over the last few days, but he worried about the propriety of mentioning such a thing to you. Would you resent him for asking about something so personal? Should he send someone closer to you to step in before you hurt yourself?
In the end, he had settled for bringing you breakfast from a nearby cafe. He glances at the turnover, now sitting innocently on his coffee table courtesy of Sedene. It taunts him.
The silence in his office is deafening as Neuvillette lays you carefully on the sofa next to his desk. He runs through the list of human vitals in his head.
You’re breathing quite deeply. Your pulse is healthy and strong as his fingers press against the side of your throat. The color in your face is returning to its normal shade. Surely all you lack is a good meal, which he can certainly provide, and some rest.
Then why do his hands shake as he pours tea into a cup on the table before you?
Why can he not keep his eyes from you as you sleep, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm?
Why does he find it impossible to return to the paperwork that calls his name just a few feet away?
A clap of thunder shakes the building.
He doesn’t realize how long his eyes have been trained on yours until you’re staring back at him through lowered lids, awakened by the noise.
It takes about a half second for you to remember the circumstances of a few minutes prior and gasp, sitting up with a speed that makes Neuvillette reach towards you in concern. His coat falls from where it was draped across you and you stare at it, unblinking.
Your gaze flits to Neuvillette, bare to the wrist. He watches silently as you register the sofa you’re laid upon and the lavish office around you.
The Chief Justice makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you rush to stand up, face burning. Your head spins - whether from fatigue or embarrassment, you’re not sure. A million apologies threaten to spill from your mouth at once.
With your head bowed and your feet unsteady below you, you don’t see the hand rising to your face until a cool sensation spreads over your flushed forehead. The surprise of it shuts you up immediately. When you do dare to raise your eyes, you hardly trust what you see in front of you.
There is no anger in the face of the Iudex, in the downturned curve of his mouth or the crease of his brow. Only tender concern presents itself as he addresses you.
“You appear to be feverish. Please, sit back down. I won’t have you fainting again if I can help it.” He removes his hand from your skin, leaving behind a burning sensation that you can't attribute to a fever.
“Mon- Monsieur?”
He tuts, raising the cup of tea to your hand and folding it into your grasp. “Drink, please,” he murmurs, face etched with care.
You blink a few times, sipping the drink as if compelled by magic. It's sweeter than you’re expecting.
“Good girl.”
You nearly choke on it.
If possible, Neuvillette looks even more distressed by your sudden coughing fit. “You’re far redder than when you awoke. The fever reducer in this blend should help with that, but in the meantime, please take some of this…”
The minutes pass quietly. Periodically, Neuvillette instructs you in a gentle tone to drink your tea or eat a bit of pastry. He absolutely forbids you to stand after the second time you attempt to excuse yourself.
When he's been assured that you're comfortable, he speaks again.
“May I ask why you believe those papers you were attempting to bring me were worth working yourself to exhaustion over?”
His words are authoritative, but his voice carries such softness that you can’t help but be honest with him.
“I’m so very sorry, Monsieur. It won’t happen again. I’ve just had a lot on my plate this week.”
Neuvillette's violet eyes are melancholy as they meet yours. “Of course. It’s a busy time of year for us all,” he says, shifting his gaze to the steady rain outside. “I do hope you know, however, that I would far rather your work be late than your health to fail on my account.”
You duck your head. “...I understand, Monsieur.”
The man’s stately expression fades into something unreadable at that.
“...Please, call me Neuvillette.”
You were unaware that his voice, so commanding in the courtroom, could sound so tender directed at you.
Your gaze darts up from the floor. The Iudex is not meeting your eyes. His are fixed instead on the light drizzle pattering the windowpane. A faint swathe of color decorates his lofty cheekbones.
As you smile and nod your head, pronouncing his name with a few words of thanks, the morning sun streams into the room behind you.
It’s getting to be quite the lovely day outside.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x fem!reader#fem!reader#:3c#this was fun to write and even more fun to see my beta readers react to#shout out to tender and honey btw love you guys#have i mentioned how much i love gentle men recently#if i haven't here's 2k words to remind you
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hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out
𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏
📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again.
📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals.
📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words.
📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader
📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs.
📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake
𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)
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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.
you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.
except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.
you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.
“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.
“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.
the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.
“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”
oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”
oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.
“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”
oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”
“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”
“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”
oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.
he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.
oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.
when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.
your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.
your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.
you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).
you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.
incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.
the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?
“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.
it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”
you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.
oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”
there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.
oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.
“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”
you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.
“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.
“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.
“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”
oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.
“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”
you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.
“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”
stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.
“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.
“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.
“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.
“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”
oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.
“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.
“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.
“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.
he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.
oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.
oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”
“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”
oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”
he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.
he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”
“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”
oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.
his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.
your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.
“can i–”
“shouldn’t you–”
oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.
“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”
oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”
“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”
oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.
“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”
“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”
“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”
oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.
oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”
taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz
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#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri x black!reader#oscar piastri x you#lando norris x reader#logan sergeant x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x black!reader#f1 x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smut#oscar piastri smut#formula 1 x reader#f1 fluff#f1 fic#f1 fic rec#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#formula 1 x black!reader#serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: op.
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Overtime
Joel Miller x F!reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Summary: You and Joel fight over the remote as adults do.
Warnings/Tags: language, established relationship, handjob (M receiving), some restraint, insinuated that Joel is larger than reader (he can move you around), implied sex, football references, Joel and reader being menaces to eachother
Words: 1165
Notes: Let’s try this again! Tumblr flagged the first one (tumblr you prude!) written for @iamasaddie’s moodboard game! I had so much fun writing this! And seeing everyone else’s creative genius with their moodboards! Huge shoutout to my love and fellow sportsball enthusiast, Angela @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, for letting me talk through stuff and beta reading! And last but not least, @saradika for the divider!
Joel is used to lazy Sunday afternoons on the couch. Typically committing Saturdays for errands and projects, he’s tried to use Sundays as a day to spend time with Sarah, but she’s out of town with her best friend until this evening. Which is how Joel finds himself spread out on the couch, the warm sun pulling through your window on the other side of town.
The tv hums with the voices of the sportscasters over the Cowboys’ game. He can hear you bustling around in your bedroom, two threads keeping him tied to consciousness.
There’s the distinct sound of your footsteps and the channel switching as the broadcaster’s voices change. They’re leading into the late game.
“I was watching that,” Joel says, gruffly.
“You’re sleeping.”
“Am not.” Joel runs a hand over his face, slowly blinking his eyes open. “Just resting my eyes.”
You let out a huff of laughter. “Okay, Dad.”
He eyes your backside as you’re engrossed in the pregame commentary. Dressed in the familiar light blue of your well worn Houston Oilers shirt, a smile spreads across his face. “Is that really what you want to call me?”
You flip him off.
Joel bites back a laugh. He reaches out, pinching your bottom firmly between two fingers. You squeal, spinning to face him. “Joel Miller,” you say, crossing your arms.
“C’mon, Sweetheart. The Oilers left Texas years ago. They ain’t even the Oilers anymore,” he prods, knowing he’ll get a rise out of you. “Turn the Cowboys game back on. It’s almost over.”
“My aligiance is not dependent on the location of my team.” You stick your tongue out. “The cowgirls should’ve put the Giants away by now. Not that you would have noticed.”
“Rude.” He scowls.
“My house, my rules, Miller.”
He lets out a sound that reminds you of a growl and before you have time to tease him about it, his arms are around you, pulling you down to the couch with him. You laugh as his lips press to your neck right where you like it.
Your laughter quickly turns into a soft moan as your head dips against his shoulder. His fingers skirt under the hem of your shirt, caressing the soft flesh of your stomach. “You like that baby?”
You nod your head as soft whimpers fall from your lips. Joel chuckles again. His arm slips around your waist, tugging you flush against him.
“Such a good girl,” he purrs in your ear, fingertips trailing down your wrist.
If you thought you couldn’t melt anymore, you’re wrong. Something akin to a whine escapes your lips as you turn your head to kiss him. You’re so close to his lips when his slow chuckle turns to a laugh and the tv remote slips from your grasp.
He flips the station back just as the Cowboys are kicking off for overtime. Before you can react, he tosses it across the room, holding you against him.
“You jackass!” You strain against him, trying to break free.
“I’m just trying to finish my game.”
“You barely started it before you passed out.”
“Wasn’t sleepin.” Joel’s voice is still gruff in your ear.
You try to wiggle free, but it’s useless. He knows from more than enough experience how to keep you in one spot.
You get more anxious as the minutes tick by, shifting as you can between his legs.
“They’re about to kick off,” you fuss at him.
“Overtime will be done soon.” He pats your thigh placatingly. “We’ll turn on your Oilers’ game then, or whatever they’re calling themselves now.”
You roll your eyes.“The Titians?” You shift again.
“I know my teams, Sweetheart.” Joel nips at your earlobe, eyes trained ahead. “And quit shiftin.”
You furrow your brow, until it hits you, literally. His cock presses into your back as a slow smirk spreads across your face. “Why? Is this affecting you?”
You rub against him more intentionally this time. His breath grows ragged in your ear. His hands move to your hips, desperate to stop your motions. He’s not going to let you win the game.
Try as he might, he doesn't have the sheer strength to keep you immobile. Your hands drop to his thighs, fingers trailing the inner seam of his jeans.
You glance behind you. Joel refuses to look at you, a slight twitch in his set jaw. You’re not sure he’s actually absorbing the game anymore.
Your hand creeps up, landing between the two of you as you palm his erection.
He lets out a low groan, gripping your wrist. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
You smirk. “Who said I couldn’t?”
He groans, back hitting the couch, but keeps a hold of your non-dominant hand, tethering you to him.
You pop open the button of his jeans and his cock springs free. You raise an eyebrow at him. “This is a new development.”
“Had to make things easier for you.” He winks.
You scoff, tracing a vein with your finger tips. “Such a pretty little cock.”
“Little?” He teases. “Ain’t nothing little here, Sweetheart.”
You spit in your free hand before gripping him. You run a finger over his tip, spreading out the precum that’s begun to leak. Joel’s head hits the couch with a low groan.
Using your tongue and hands, you waste no time working him to the edge. You’re far enough into your relationship to know how to get Joel off with quick efficiency.
His hips thrust up. “Fuck, Just like that, Sweetheart. You know how I like it.”
His eyes are closed, chest heaving with desire. He’s all but forgotten about the heated overtime match playing on the TV.
You could finish him off right here. Two quick moves and you know he’d make a mess right here, but his grip on your wrist loosens just enough for you to slip free.
The moment your warmth is gone, Joel’s eyes open. He’s dazed, looking blissed out on your couch. He makes eye contact with you, and you shoot him a wink before flipping the station once again to your football game.
Joel groans, rising to his feet. Laughter settles in your bones. He’s trying to look menacing, but his features are still clouded in lust and desire.
“That wasn’t very nice of you.”
“Neither was turning off my game in my house.”
He rips the remote from your hands, tossing it to the couch. He grabs your hips, spinning you toward the wall.
Your hands spread out against the dry wall with a thud, breath catching in your throat as heat floods your body. “Suppose I need to teach you a lesson now, Sweetheart.” He drags out the nickname as if there’s nothing sweet about you.
Shivers rush down your spine. You’re not sure how much of a lesson he teaches you, but it’s worth missing the first quarter.
Joel doesn’t know how his game ends until the halftime report and quite frankly, he doesn’t care.
#✏️ game#joel miller#the last of us#Joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#Joel miller x you#pedro pascal#tlou#mature#pedrostories#Pedro stories#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction
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CRACK FIC, I CHOOSE YOU
So, Adam and reader being at a talking stage where they just meet up to hang out for a bit, somehow got shit face drunk, maybe someone snuck in alcohol for them since they had "debt" to pay off for Adam (Like he did them a favour or smth and he just kept it for the right moment). Lute just finds them giggling and shit, before reader goes quiet as he thought about all the times Adam did something so questionable that he wondered if God was actually in any way active in Heaven. He looked quite distressed at Lute and pointed at Adam before saying: Please... Look at him and tell me if there's a God, right here in Heaven or is he on vacay?
Lute just looking at him like: The fuck? 🫥 And Adam in the back just giggling even more, swaying to the side and leaning on reader's shoulder to proudly, with the biggest grin ever, say: He made me in his own image 😁
Mwah, don't speed with this, take your time writing your masterpieces AND HYDRATE YOURSELF DAMN IT. Love you ❤️
Me stressing out over finishing requests? I'd never (that's a fucking lie) but HERE YA GO CUTIEPIE I hope ya like it, missed ya crack fic requests babes <3 I love you too dear
If God's watching then we're both sinners
pairing: Adam x male!reader
warnings: language, sexual tension, sexual implied content (near the end), non-responsible use of alcohol
note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers
“Sup bitch,” you yelled as you kicked open the door to Adam’s apartment while you also did your best to not drop any alcohol bottles. Adam had some fucking nerves, that was for sure. That dude had called you in the middle of the night and asked you to come over with alcohol. Alcohol, which was considered a drug and strictly forbidden in heaven. But you owed him, so you haven’t had much of a choice.
“Living room,” the first man yelled back at you and you sighed as you kicked the door shut behind you, of fucking course Adam wouldn’t help you carrying the shit. Fucking bastard. So it was up to you. “Some help would be fucking nice,” Adam looked up from his phone, a smirk appeared on his lips the second he laid eyes on you, completely ignoring your demand he commented, “Someone got dolled up for me, huh babes?” You huffed as you put down the bottles one by one, careful not to break the glass. “In your fucking dreams,” you shot back, a mix betweeen annoyance and joy puddled up inside of you as you watched Adam getting up from the couch. Of course that fucking bastard was just wearing a shitty band shirt and fucking boxershorts. Teasing fuckhead. “Oh nah shawty, in my dreams I’m fucking ya,” you were torn between punching him in the face and telling him to pin you down and fuck the living shit out of you. You put the drinks down onto the table as Adam rounded the table to walk up to you. His wing tilted your chin upward, forcing you to look at him, his hair was messy, not the kind of messy they were when he took off his mask but rather a bedhead kind of messy, it suited him. His eyes held kindness in them, kindness for you. Ever since you guys had mentioned upcoming feelings for each other Adam had turned into a fucking tease and you didn’t know if it was because he simply liked how you reacted or if he wanted you to finally ask him out. You had been on a date with him twice, it had always been fun. On the first date he had taken you out to see your favorite band - that cocky bastard had managed to get his sneaky fingers on some pretty rare VIP tickets. On the second date it had been a bit more simple, you had taken him out to get ice cream and then have dinner together. This was apparently your third date - well was it a date? Maybe so.
The softness of his feathers felt smooth against your skin, you liked the feeling of those golden feathers of his, they felt cool yet they kept you warm and cozy. And they came hand in hand with Adam providing physical touch, so it was a win-win thing.
“You brought the good stuff, I see where this is going,” the cocky smile on his lips was met by an amused one of yours, a quiet snort escaped you at his comment, “What? Ya wanna fill me up ‘n’ fuck me?” Adam tapped his chin as if he was actually considering it for a moment - the offer sounded tempting, that the first man had to admit. But he shook his head, “Nah, I’d rather fuck you while you’re sober. That way you’ll remember the handsome face behind that fire feeling dick.” You playfully punched his chest before you turned around to head into the kitchen in order to get shot glasses. Your wings hit him lightly as you did so and you heard him grumble something inaudible, it made you chuckle. Because while you enjoyed flirting with Adam, you also enjoyed having the upper hand from time to time, to let him struggle a little. Playing hard to get was kinda funny, that you had to admit.
-
You had stopped refilling the tiny little glasses a while ago, you watched as Adam took a swig from the bottle he held firmly in his hand, watched in fascination as his adams apple worked when he swallowed the burning liquor. “Fuck you look hot, “ you mumbled as you watched the brunette, he cracked one of his eyes open to look back at you and grinned against the bottle that was pressed against his lips. He gulped the liquor down, lifted the bottle from his mouth and grinned, “Hot enough to fuck your cute ass?” And for the love of God, you couldn’t take this man seriously when you were sober, given that you were wasted, trashed even, you simply started giggling like a maniac, your sitting position shifted into one that would be described as curled up into a ball. You held your tummy as you giggled and giggled, not able to stop. “What’s so funny?” the first man asked, slowly the giggling started to influence him as well even though he had no idea why you were reacting the way you reacted. “Just imagine-” you had to interrupt yourself, the laughter that bubbled from your throat was too strong to hold back.
The door unlocked which caught your attention, the fact that Lute was entering Adam’s apartment only made the situation funnier for you - why you once again didn’t understand. But you weren’t the only one, Adam was also curled up on the floor, giggling like crazy. “Are you two-” she didn't even finish to ask if you guys were okay once she spotted the empty alcohol bottles that were scattered all across Adam’s living room. “We’re fucking fineeee, Lute,” Adam whined between giggles and laughters. Were they, though? She doubted that.
The exorcist noticed how quiet you were all of a sudden and she raised an eyebrow at you when you got up from the floor - it took you three tries to stand up but you made it - and walked over to her. Your hands came to rest on her shoulders and she tilted her head backwards to bring as much space between you and her as physically possible, you strongly smelled like alcohol - the strong kind. “Lute,” you whispered, or well, that’s what you thought, in reality you were speaking quite loud, loud enough for Adam to hear, “Look at him,” you slightly turned away from the lieutenant to point at Adam, in your head you were really subtle about it. Reality was something different, a whole different world. You acted so obviously that even drunk Adam noticed what was going on. He watched you with curious eyes, now that he was the main topic of the conversation between you and Lute. “Look at this bastard and tell me there’s a God, right here,” you pointed to the floor, “In heaven. With us,” you looked back at Adam, who was desperately trying to get up but kept falling onto his ass until he finally managed to stand up, he was swaying from side to side as he walked over to you and Lute, “Or is the big G on vacay?”
Lute just looked at you in confusion, your question was so stupid yet so justified, even she wasn’t able to answer it, because while she would never say it with Adam in the room, the first man sure knew how to make questionable decisions.
Adam wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you flush against his side as he looked down at you with a proud smirk on his face and spoke, “He made me in his own image.” Your eyes locked onto his and a cocky little smirk found its way on your lips as you responded, “Well, God’s image is fucking hot, then.” Lute simply decided it was best to ignore you two - you had been flirting with each other for so long, way before you had reached the ‘talking stage’ - as you called it. And she was getting tired of it. She picked up the empty bottles and carried them into the kitchen to throw them away, she didn’t need one - or even both of you - getting hurt because of some broken glass.
When she exited the kitchen to continue to clean up after your drunk asses and send you to bed afterwards, she was quite surprised to find you two kissing - well if you could call it that, to her it looked more like Adam was trying to shove his tongue down your throat as deeply as physically possible, yet you seemed to enjoy it. She pulled out her phone, took a quick picture and then separated the both of you just to guide you both into Adam’s bedroom, “And do me a favor, if you fuck, do it quietly.” Then she left the room and locked the door behind her.
It only took you a couple seconds before you pushed Adam down onto his bed and climbed into his lap to continue the interrupted makeout session.
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I dont know if you watched frozen fever, but if you do, can I request the first years with a fem s/o who has ice magic/powers and she has a fever/cold, and whenever she sneezes, cute little snowmans appear. Like what do they do or how do they react.
-- ! how to make an appropriate title 101 with naru. while i haven't watched frozen fever, i do get the gist of what it was about and what you want me to do with this request! apologies for the late response, but i hope you like it! // the sole reason why this was kept from my inbox purge was because i was already done with ace and deuce's part.
✧ first years with a s/o who summons tiny snowmen when having a fever
✧ gn!reader
✧ this is an old request, but upon re-reading the entire thing after i was done writing i realized i didn't use a singular pronoun throughout. so we sticking with the gender neutral reader here too HAHA. also not beta-read we die like how i let this blog die for a whole ass year.
✧ Shrieks a tiny bit the first time you sneeze and his head is suddenly freezing cold before seeing a tiny snowman topple down from his head - real confused for a good few minutes after, to the point he actually forgets you're the one that conjured that tiny being up.
✧ Stares at it for a couple of seconds, owlishly blinking at the sentient tiny snowman running around in circles before directing his gaze towards you: "You didn't tell me that your ice magic could also summons snowmen upon you sneezing," he remarks, sounding oddly offended about not knowing that detail.
✧ "N-No," you sniffle, "It usually doesn't happen unless I'm getting a high fever," you wheeze, another sneeze resulting in double the amount of snowmen appearing and Ace just stares trying to figure out what the hell is happening.
✧ He's worried for 0.5 seconds before his more mischievous side comes forward: "Oh, so those come out whenever you sneeze?" he asks, just to clarify his theory - to which you who is just a bit too delirious to notice any hidden motif he has, nod without thinking twice.
✧ Like, he sees that you're fine! You may be running a bit of a high fever soon, but you're still fine! You're going on about your days with tons of tiny snowmen following your trail whenever you sneeze, but other than that you're perfectly fine! He'll do his part as a good boyfriend after he's had a bit of fun seeing this unusual side effect from your magic.
✧ Tries every trick in the book to make you sneeze more often when he finally has you tucked underneath some sheets inside your room. Accidentally claps two books together that have accumulated just a bit too much dust your way? More tiny snowmen. Tingles your noise a tiny bit with a feather out of affection? Even more snowmen, and you want to be mad at him, but he's having this dorky smile on his face with a slight blush as he picks up another snowman. "Sorry, sorry! They're just so cute!"
✧ Deuce is rather ashamed to admit this, but the moment he set his eyes on those little snowmen appearing out of thin air when you first sneezed - the fact that you were running a high fever was forgotten. Completely gone from his mind, every worrying thought about your condition had suddenly vanished from his head.
✧ Over the moon seeing those tiny beings trail behind you. Ecstatic when he picks one up and the others just jump on top of his body like this is the happiest he is at the moment, nothing can make his day sour now that these little guys are around him.
✧ "Is this the reason why you try not to get sick so often?" Deuce asks, arms cradles full of the tiny snowmen that you conjure up whenever you sneeze and you can only give a defeated nod in return: "They disappear after a while, but if I'm sneezing left and right it's almost an unending snowman army."
✧ Becomes oddly attatched to every tiny snowmen you conjure up. You don't know why, he doesn't know why either. All you two know is that whenever one poofs away after a while, he gets sad and now you're the one consoling him even when you have a fever.
✧ Sadness is only there for a moment though before he picks himself back up and starts to take care of you: "Sorry, they were just so tiny that I couldn't help it. Come on, let's get you back to your room so you can rest properly."
✧ When he finds out the tiny snowmen try their best to help you too he's just so damn elated. Tries to give them small tasks and just smiles at them fondly when they try their best. You find it nice that Deuce isn't overly worried about you and causing a ruckus to the point you omit the tiny detail that every thing that the tiny snowman deliver to you, arrives freezing cold.
✧ Oh you're cradled up in his arms and off to his room the moment he even sees your red nose and shivering self. No he does not care if it's in the middle of the day and you both have class, you're not taking another step or standing up for another second.
✧ Literally halts in his tracks the moment he sees the first snowman appear when you sneeze. Eyes wide and blinking numerous time as he tries to process what the hell just happened, "I- That, is this normal?" No, Jack. It certainly is not normal.
✧ Vaguely listens to your explanation as he hurries towards the mirror hall and towards Savanaclaw, but every time you sneeze he stops to pick up any stray snowman that doesn't land on either you or him - What if you eventually need them to be absorbed back to get more of your magic back? "That's now how it works," "How would you be 100% sure? You rarely get sick as is."
✧ Keeps a mental note on the amount of snowmen that appears whenever you sneeze and where they scurry off to after they've toppled to the floor while taking care of you.
✧ Besides from the mental counting of snowmen he doesn't really try to touch the little creatures, they're made out of snow after all. Sure they can take quite a long fall to the floor or bounce on the bed whenever you sneeze, but they're so... small? He feels like if he just grabs their body they'll just evaporate from the warmth of his palm alone.
✧ You only laugh at Jack's hesitant face once the snowmen he has tried so hard to avoid touching just start to crowd around him, trying to jump on top of him to climb further up his torso. It's a nice pace of change, seeing your lover who usually runs around from dawn and lifting weights try to be so gentle with magic snowmen.
✧ The first snowman that's summoned from thin air and onto your head is in the middle of potion making class. Epel quite literally shrieks when he notices the snowman roll off your head and topple into the cauldron and drops everything he's currently holding to catch it.
✧ Which was the two beakers with other components for the current potion you were making, the shattering noise immediately alerting Crewel. However before he could even start to reprimand, it only took one mere glance at your wobbling self before he directed his gaze towards Epel who instinctively hid the snowman behind him, "Take them to the infirmary, puppy. They're one minute from falling all over the floor."
✧ And it is with that remark that Epel snaps his head towards you, stepping over and pressing the palm of his hand over your forehead, "Yeah, ya burn' up." he mutters, quickly excusing himself before pulling your weak self out the door. The snowman left behind scurries after the two of you when faced with Crewel who only raised an eyebrow up at it.
✧ He's not having a good time. While he tries his best to drag the barely consicous you to the infirmary, he also have to get a hold on every snowman you summon with each sneeze before they scurry away and wreck havoc. So safe to say, Epel has seen better days.
✧ Has half a mind to gather them and chuck them into a basket and zip it shut and another half to just observe them and see what they do. The former won the moment the two of you entered the infirmary and you let out a number of sneezes, which prompted more snowmen to appear and almost destroy the entire room.
✧ Does feel bad when he comes back to the infirmary after going back to the dorm to grab a few snacks to see a few more snowman appear and just try to pull the string open. Nonetheless, you awaken to Epel peeling off an apple, with a few of the snowmen sitting inside a bowl with a few unpeeled apples, "It took some time, but I eventually figured that they just wanted to help, so now they're just keeping the apples cold for me. Here, have a bite." he ignores the look of utter confusion on your face at the snowman on top of his head.
✧ Utterly appalled. Absolutetly flabbergasted. Disappointed that you, his lover, can not take care of themselves like he can. Barges into your room to see your sniffling self on the bed with a look of utter disappointment.
✧ "And here I thought you were one step above your other brethren the others with you rarely getting sick! And where do I find you right after thinking that? In bed! With a fever! How typical!" He huffs, pulling the sheets away from you despite your weak protests. He is utterly shocked the moment he sees the amount of snowmen jump away from your bed and out through your bedroom door the moment he pulled the sheets away from you, staring at the small creatures scurrying down the hallway of Diasomnia.
✧ "And to make matters worse, you hide tiny snowmen in your bed?! I cannot understand how you humans think!" You do not have the energy to correct him. But before you can get up and try to get those snowmen back into your room, Sebek is already pushing you back down to bed with a scoff, "You are not moving a single muscle until I allow it! Now, I know the young master is strong enough to handle some weak human magic, but I still need to ensure his safety, so wait here!"
✧ And he's off to worry about Malleus after lecturing you. After fuzzing about Malleus for a good half hour, the fae dismisses him with the loud thought of: "Wasn't [Name] feeling a bit sick this morning?" to remind your lover about your condition.
✧ Hence he barges back into your room and interrupts your short nap with a tray that's filled with warm tea and some soup. He scowls at the numerous of snowmen that's running around your room, setting the tray down on your bedside table before he gathers them all up and throws them inside a basket you had lying around in displeasure. They've made enough of a ruckus for a day.
✧ "As weak as you humans are, I would've believed you would still be able to take care of yourself sufficiently enough to not get a fever," he huffs, handing you the warm tea for you take a sip of. "I suppose I can give you some credit for trying to not get sick often, because these?" he starts, raising an eyebrow at another sneeze from you, and before the snowman can even topple down onto the bed, he's already grabbing it and throwing it onto the basket with the other snowmen, "Are quite frankly annoying to deal with." he huffs, picking up the spoon and taking the bowl in his hands, "Now hurry up and drink this soup so you can lay down while I prepare some wet towels."
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#ace trappola#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade#deuce spade x reader#jack howl#jack howl x reader#epel felmier#epel felmier x reader#reader insert#i had another draft where sebek just abandons you to make sure malleus is safe#im so sorry sebek#but it made me laugh
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Heya there!
I've been loving your blog for a while and I finally came up with the corauge to make a request! ^^
What about the rottmnt boys (Donie, Leo, Raph and Mikey) with a fem!reader that has just this
✨GenZ Energy✨
Like she makes a lot of self depricating jokes and has got dark humor.
I just kinda wanna see how they will react to this kind of reader xd
Also don't forget to take care of yourself and to not overwork!
Have a nice day/night! ;)
Random Girlfriend Moments
Summary: The turts do the opposite of laugh
Leo
Invites you for a cuddle sesh in his room. Because he misses you even when you both hung out yesterday.
Heart eyes when he walks in with snacks in hand to you sitting on his bed reading his comic collection.
You caught him grinning. You knew that look.
"What are you up to?"
"Nothing, just thinking that my girlfriend is beautiful."
Cheeky
"Really? What does she look like."
Starts high-key comparing you to a pepperoni pizza. Which is low-key high praise coming from him.
He wanted to hear your cute giggle when you get shy, but instead...
"That's her? She sounds ugly. You got some low standards, Leo."
The furrow between his eyebrows when he frowned could almost compete with Raph's. It was cute.
"Not funny."
Donnie
Was pulling his 6th all-nighter, working on a weapon upgrade for his bo-staff.
Worried for your boyfriend, you came over with pizza and calming tea in hand. He didn't even hear you knock.
Completely ignores your efforts to get his attention and eat.
"The beta stage is complete! All that's left is to test out its durability in battle and see its adverse effects on opponents!"
"Why don't you test it on me and get it over with?"
...That got his attention.
"It's going to hurt."
"No pain, no gain."
"What if you collapse?"
"The best sleep of my life."
"Darling, I know this is completely out of my character and I definitely will not be doing this again, but, do you need a hug?"
"I need you to eat and sleep."
"Okay"
Raph
You begged asked him to teach you how to ride a skateboard.
He would've been fine teaching you if you weren't so adamant about learning on the ramp inside the lair
Like, have you SEEN it!?
It DEFINITELY does not pass safety standards.
But you pulled out your trump card...the ✨puppy eyes✨, and he couldn't say no to that.
So now, he was sweating bullets CANONS with how nervous he was with you on top of the ramp.
His brothers sat at the bottom, making bets. Finding the prospect of you falling flat on your face is far more entertaining than playing video games.
"Do it! Do it! Do it!"
"Stop encouraging her! This is serious!"
"She's gonna be fine."
"Babe, it's gonna be awesome! Who knows, maybe falling on my face might make me prettier."
Let's just say that he refuses to teach you how to skateboard after that.
Mikey
To him, were nothing short of an angel.
Everything little thing about you, he finds so aesthetically pleasing no matter what you said or did.
You would've had bed hair and drool on your chin, and he'd look at you with the anime glitter filter on.
As such, anyone who dares insult your beauty would have to go through him and his razzmatazz. Even you.
"Babe, how are you so pretty?"
"Pretty ugly if you ask me."
Dr. Feelings was more than ready to sit you down and give a 10-hour presentation on how you were not ugly.
"Sweetie it's a joke."
"Oh, are you saying you're a joke now? Well, let's talk about that."
2 hours in and you were already numb from the waist down sitting in one spot.
He wasn't finished though.
Never again...
P.S: Hello everyone~ it's been a while and I'm really sorry about the slow updates. Finals are coming up and I just wanted to take a break and write something fun. So I hope you guys enjoy this short one!!
P.P.S: this is my first time using hdcs and I'm pretty sure I did it wrong -w-
#rise!donnie#rise!leo#rise!mikey#rise!raph#rottmnt donnie x reader#rottmnt leo x reader#rottmnt mikey x reader#rottmnt raph x reader#rottmnt leo#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt raph
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Mission Light - Update 10.03.2024
Hey everyone,
it's time for my weekly update. Firstly, my flatmates, who are also my beta readers, were really surprised and hyped for more after reading my character creation/prologue pt.1. Now they've even started playing interactive fiction themselves, haha.
The rewrites of prologue pt.1 are almost finished, so I can hopefully move on to the lawyer route soon. I've already planned out the routes for the lawyer prologue and partly coded them in Twine.
I attempted to code music into the game, after selecting some from a free website, for three hours, but unfortunately, I failed. It's something I'll revisit later on.
The word count for the character creation/prologue pt.1 is now around 15,000-17,000, including code (if I'm not mistaken, I work so chaotic sometimes I get really confused myself).
I'm not too thrilled about having to write two essays for uni right now, as I'm having so much fun working on Mission Light. But, my criminal law and interaction sociology essays won’t write themselves.
I can't wait to publish and show you all the character creation and the lawyer route of the first chapter. I've noticed that I feel a lot more insecure about my writing and how I portray things and characters than I initially assumed, so we'll see how you all react to what I've written. That's also why I rewrote a lot because I was so unhappy with how it turned out. I am more satisfied now.
I also changed the game's summary because now it fits my rewrites better.
Take care – Cassian :)
#interactive fiction#interactive game#interactive novel#interactive story#mission light#if#mission light if#lgbtq#twine if#itch.io
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hiiii, how are you?💕
for the fic ask: 8-12-27-48-50-76
Hi! I’m good! Just working through writers block and Vet School interviews for the time being! Thank you for asking 💕
8. Post an out of context spoiler from a WIP. So this is from my Modern College AU fic that was kind of inspired by another fic (FOG), my most recent Gilmore Girls re-watch, and Taylor Swift’s Midnights album.
12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are the outlines? How far do you stray from them?
So, it depends on the fic. Usually I’ll have an idea that I want to write about, sometimes song lyrics help me out, other times, it’s more so history inspired, and even then I might end up with some works that are mildly canon divergent depending on what I want to write about. Then, I end up outlining. So far, two of my longer chaptered fics have outlines of where I want them to go, one is canon compliant, the other is the college fic I mentioned. They’re pretty detailed in terms of how I want some scenes to play out, but if I have to change it and kind of Frankenstein the outline to get to a reading flow that makes more sense, I’m not afraid to do that. The scenes I tend to have in depth in the outline are the angst scenes, where there’s arguing, fighting, injuries, sad experiences (like crying scenes), and near death experiences. I tend to keep in line with the outlines, unless I think of something that I like for the plot better. One of my fanfics that I wrote in 2016 had a major character death, and I’ve decided that I don’t always enjoy writing those. I have a few newer ones with character death, but as of right now, they’re only the historical based fics.
27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?
Description of a background setting for sure, but I feel pretty confident with dialogue and internal struggles that the characters are having, too. Sometimes I feel like my writing isn’t great, and that occasionally stops me from publishing fics, but I might start having beta readers for a few fics that I’m working on.
48. Who is your favorite character to write for? How has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?
Will Byers hands down. I love writing from Will’s perspective, because there’s such a range to his character that we see on screen, but I want someone to allow him to actually get angry for once. He’s good at hiding his true emotions at times, and it’s fun for me to try and work different angles from his perspective. He doesn’t think he’s the heart of the party, but Will is the person that keeps the Party together and united. Mike is also the hearts, but in the sense that he’s able to inspire others (when he’s not plagiarizing others speeches.) I think I enjoy writing from Will’s perspective so much, because I feel like my personality is similar to his character in a lot of ways. Will is always going to do the selfless thing even when he wants to be selfish. I’m also similar to Mike and Nancy, and I think, being able to see why they might react the way that they are throughout the seasons, and trying to better understand them as characters, has definitely helped me in my writing.
50. How would you describe your writing style?
Aside from very ADHD —> if I don’t set deadlines I don’t get it done…? Umm…
I tend to write fics in a more informal manner, but if its one of my original books, there’s more of a formal tone about it. I’m just glad I don’t have to write fanfics in Chicago style or the way we write (and cite) biology papers.
76. How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?
When I’m told to write for an assignment or a project, I will 100% procrastinate almost up until the last minute. It’s bad. Sometimes, I’ll make an outline, and gather quotes that I want to use, so I’m a little more prepared. But if there is external pressure or deadlines for me to submit something, it sometimes kicks in 2 days before the assignment or draft is due, and then I write the best paper I’ve ever written. I wrote a solid 10 pages of a History term paper off of a rough outline and a compilation of quotes that backed my argument. 4 hours later, I had 10 pages on Medieval Queens and how they contributed to warfare during the Crusader era. Basically if I’m asked to write, I’ll do it, but it can be a bit tricky to get commit to getting it done.
As for internal pressure, if I’m feeling upset or there’s something I need to get off of my chest, it usually comes up in a vent fic. I kind of write when I want to between school and work.
Thank you so much for the ask @rebellius! I was so excited when I saw that I had one! 💛
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Just a rant about writing
So I’m finally giving in, with some encouragement, and will be writing and posting this Supernatural fanfic (it’ll be a series) that’s been in my head at @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes for those who want to look for it. It’ll be called BLOOD IN HEAVEN AND HELL and hoping it’ll be posted by this weekend.
I’ve redone parts of chapter 1 like three times so far and added to it as recommended by my spouse and betas. 😆 I love my mutuals who are willing to beta for me, @fluffiest-dreams and @myloversgone . I’ve never done this and not sure I would be doing this without their encouragement. 😊
I’ve even started on Chapter 2 and realized that I’m glad I did so I can be more cohesive about my original female character (OFC!Alex). I think I’m a bit weird because I have this huge detailed background written out too on the OFC and her family in a stupid amount of detail. See, I love to learn about the how and why of things, including people. Knowing the background and how things came to be as well as changed help me understand how these characters would react/act. I also realize I need to do drabbles on the past and post them too. I have way too much info in my head not to imo.
I’ve also discovered that transitions within a chapter are fricking hard. Ugh. It’s like 🤨 how do I move this scene to here? Skip it and just go which seems to be acceptable. Instead of writing the transition of them moving about, just making it later. Some things the readers can just interpret and understand having automatically happen. 😊
I plan to write bathroom breaks. It’s stupid but if you’re gonna write realistic, especially like urban fiction, you should write them going to the bathroom and use it as either a transition or a way to give info that character doesn’t or shouldn’t know yet. Maybe that’s just me. 🤷♀️ It’s a weird thing that bothers me.
I’ve been wanting to write and publish a book since I was a teenager. I guess I gotta start somewhere. 😊 Just glad I have positive feedback and encouragement. It helps my spouse is a damn fine storyteller too (He DMs a lot and is so fun when he does).
(Edited for fanfic name change 2022-07-14)
#spn#spn fanfic#spn-fanfic-reblog a-writes#spn fic#writing#tumblr#writers on tumblr#female writers#gender fluid writers#poly writers#writing poly#witch hunter#first time#supernatural#supernatural imagine#supernatural fanfic#dean winchester#sam winchester#Bobby singer#original fiction#demons#angels#monsters#horror#urban fantasy#hybrid#heaven#hell
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“Be a good girl and spread your legs” - w/ Kuroo, Atsumu & Suga
request: Ummmm, idk if you're still taking requests, but could I get prompt 20. With Atsumu, Kuroo, and Suga? Pls and thank chu!
a/n: these were super fun to write and i somehow ended up with three very different things, but i hope you’ll enjoy! please be mindful of the tws, i’m posting them separately for each drabble. no beta! smut under the cut.
pairings: Kuroo w/ virgin reader & slight corruption; Suga w/ daddy kink & dumbification; Atsumu w/ cowgirl, wholesome
wording: 2.1k
if you want to request drabbles, i have a list of prompts here, but please read my rules first here.
Kuroo
tw: implied virginity, fingering, oral (f receving), slight corruption
“Tetsu-” you moan softly, your hands sinking in his hair, his lips sucking at the delicate skin of your neck. That will leave a mark, but you don’t care. The fact that you are in his dorm room and his roommate could open the door any minute slips from your mind as you feel his hands knead your clothed breasts. All that matters is how good it all feels, how it leaves you wanting more, how his calloused fingers know just where to touch you.
“Be a good girl and spread your legs,” he asks, voice laced with honey. If it was up to him, he’d rip the clothes off of you, free your pretty tits so he could sink his teeth into your perky nipples. But no, he has to take it slow. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you from the start, he doesn’t want you running away from him. You’re so sweet and innocent and your body isn’t used to being touched by a man. You writhe under his fingers, goosebumps littering your skin. He won’t lie, he loves it. Even though his cock twitches painfully in his pants from the lack of friction. He’ll just build you up, steadily and patiently, until you’re on your knees begging for him to fuck you.
Kuroo can see just how shy you are, how you hesitate for a second at his command, your eyes darting to his as if you want to make sure you understood correctly. He smiles sweetly, pressing his hands on the inside of your thighs and pushes them apart slowly. He watches you intently, grinning internally when he sees how you cover your mouth with your hand, averting your eyes as if to hide from his gaze. It’s so cute how embarrassed you are.
Your chest heaves, your breathing shallow. Your whole body feels as if you have a fever - your skin’s burning up, a dull ache in your abdomen. He kneels in front of you and when you feel his finger lightly trace your clothed slit a loud whine escapes you.
He would tease you, tell you that he knows how desperate you are for his cock by the way the wet spot on your white panties grows with his every touch. But he can’t do it yet. He’ll keep the teasing remarks to himself for now, content to watch the string of slick still connecting your folds to your panties when he tugs them down. Your body isn’t as innocent as you are.
“Can I?” he asks, a playful smile on his lips when he sees you nod sheepishly.
Kuroo can’t help but grin when he sees how tight you are, how he’s barely able to push his finger past your entrance. Your moans get louder when you feel his tongue press on your clit, swiping the sensitive nub as his digit thrusts in and out of you incessantly. Will you really cum just from this?
Your walls clench, your body twisting as the pressure in your abdomen snaps, waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your juices spill on his hand as he keeps fucking into you, savoring the lewd expressions on your face as you come undone for him. You’re so beautiful, exquisitely so.
And if that’s how you react to just one finger and a few strokes of his tongue, he can’t wait to see how pretty you’ll look creaming on his cock, the fucked out expressions you’ll be making. Sometimes being patient pays off and Kuroo is sure this is definitely one of those times.
Suga
tw: hard dom Suga, daddy kink, dumbification, infantilization, praise, edging, overstim, dacryphilia, sex toys, mentions of alcohol
When you met Suga you thought he was just another pretty boy, nothing too special. The kind you take home to your parents or marry after you’re done experimenting.
“Be a good girl and spread your legs,” he commands, sharp eyes fixed on your body.
Turns out, his favorite pastime is watching you squirm as he fucks your brains out. All it took was stumbling into his bed one night after work, both of you drunk and lonely. And now you spent most evenings on your knees servicing his cock and waiting for him to take pity on you and stretch your walls.
You comply, opening your thighs and giving Suga a perfect view of your pretty cunt, soaked and throbbing. A small vibrator buzzes happily inside, pulling soft whimpers from your throat. He pushed it inside you on the lowest setting more than an hour ago - punishment for being late. The setting that isn’t high enough to get you off, but it’s high enough to make a mess out of your hole, to have you begging for him to let you cum.
“You look so good like this, you know? Like a dumb little baby, look how your cunny gushes.” He kneels between your legs, scooping the liquid between your folds with a finger “You like having that vibe inside you, hmm? Does it feel good?” He questions, his tone belittling. But you don’t care. All you care about is how good that tiny touch felt. You want to ask for more, but you know how much Suga hates it when you speak out of turn, so you settle on answering his question.
“I-It feels good, daddy,” your voice feels so small and broken as soft moans escape between each of your words. He smiles and your heart swells. You did good, he likes your answer. He watches you proudly. When you two met you were such a little brat. He worked so hard to make you behave, to make you into the dumb little fuckdoll that you are now. He loves you so much.
“That’s my baby. Now, tell me, will you be late again?” His palm is raised over your aching clit, ready to slap the bundle of nerves if you say the wrong thing.
“N-No, daddy,” you try. He smiles again. You sigh with relief, your chest rising and falling with your every breath, your nipples perked from the rush of emotions.
“Good girl,” he coos. His fingers find your clit, rubbing and pinching. “Is this what you want? You want me to let you cum?”
You nod desperately, cries and pleads erupting from your throat as you feel your climax within your reach. Just a little bit more and you’ll cum. You let out a whine when he stops and pulls the vibe out of you - you were so close.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Suga tugs down his boxers, his cock springing, large and throbbing. You lick your lips in anticipation. He gets between your thighs once more, aligning his tip with your hole. He pushes it in, torturously slow. Your legs are on his shoulders, your hands pinned above your head by his strong grip. He chuckles when he sees the way you squirm, how hard you’re trying to get more of his cock inside your plush walls. “You’re such a dumb little baby, so needy for me. You can’t cum without daddy’s help. What would you do without me, hmm?”
“I-I need m-more, daddy, please,” you beg, tears welling up in your eyes. Your insides felt like they were on fire. And you were so close to the sweet release of your orgasm. If only daddy took pity on his little baby and helped her cum.
“If you’re asking so nicely.” Suga slams his hips into yours, shoving the rest of his cock against your cervix all at once. He thinks you look so cute with your salty tears streaming down your face. You don’t last long, not with the pace at which he’s rutting into you. Your mind goes blank, tongue lolling out of your open mouth, your body convulsing under Suga’s. And he keeps thrusting into you, not even letting you catch your breath. You climax again, harder than the first time, your head dizzy, body going limp. Your walls are clamming on his cock, squeezing it and milking him for every last drop of his cum.
“My pretty baby, so good for me,” he whispers as he gives you a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Let me clean you up and I’ll cuddle you.” You don’t even hear his last words as you succumb to sleep, your exhaustion overtaking you.
Atsumu
tw: cowgirl, nipple play, kinda wholesome, Atsumu says baby twice, somehow this one ended up super sweet
Were you always such a tease? Atsumu asks himself as he stares at the way your tits bounce, threatening to spill from your low-cut dress. You’re skipping towards him, huge smile on your face and arms open to engulf him in a hug. You haven’t seen each other in a while, not since you moved to a different city for your job. But none of that matters now - you’re back.
Just like you’re back on his lap fifteen minutes later. Your lips are wrapped around his, your hands playing with the hem of his pants. You taste just as good as he remembers. God, how he missed you. He sucks on your tongue, his fingers pinching your nipples. He smirks when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. He always hated how those pesky things got in the way of his touches. You bite his bottom lip when he pulls away from the kiss and you smile, a devilish glint dancing in your eyes.
“Did I give you permission to stop?” You tease and he laughs. You’re even feistier than he remembers.
“Fuck, baby, I missed you so much,” his fingers dig into your back as he breathes deeply, taking in your intoxicating scent. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.”
He thinks your cocky smirk is adorable. “When was I ever a good girl, ‘Tsumu?” Still, you oblige, not because he asked you to, but because you want it just as much as he does. You move to straddle his lap, your hand between your bodies, stroking his cock through his pants. His mouth crashes with yours again in a sloppy kiss, tongues twisting as you swallow each other’s moans.
“You want me?” you question, your clouded eyes lying on his, mouth slightly open as you pant trying to catch your breath. His cock twitches at the hypnotizing sight - you could’ve asked him for anything right now and he would oblige.
“What do you think?”
“I think you can’t wait to bury your cock in my cunt,” a smirk plastered on your face as you reach for his boxers, rubbing your thumb in circles over his leaking tip. He hisses at the unexpected touch.
“You know I do.” Lifting yourself on your tiptoes, you pull your panties aside with a grin, placing Atsumu’s tip at your drenched entrance. You gasp as you slowly sink on his cock, relishing the way his girth spreads your ravenous cunt, inch by agonizing inch. You’re not prepped and even though you’re wet, your tight walls burn as his tip pushes inside you. But you couldn’t wait, not with his tantalizing cock finally within your grasp.
The way you’re riding him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, naked tits pressed against his taut chest is driving him crazy with lust. Why did he ever let you go? Your moans sound so sweet and he whispers your name in your ear, over and over, like a prayer. He licks at the shell of your ear and your cries get louder. You gyrate your hips, his palms resting on your waist as he meets your thrusts halfway.
“Your cock feels so good, ‘Tsumu,” you mewl as you pick up the pace, chasing your high with each slam of your hips.
“And you’re so fucking tight. Fuck, baby, look at me. I want to see your face when you cum,” your cunt is clenching snugly around his cock at Atsumu’s words. You indulge him. He watches you bend and undulate as you grind against him faster and faster. He feels his own climax build up and just as your body thrashes in his arms with your orgasm, he fills you up with his cum, his tip resting against your cervix.
“Let’s stay like this for a bit,” Atsumu mutters and you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, humming in agreement.
© 2021 all content belongs to @cherrysdollhouse, please do not modify or repost without permission
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader smut#kuroo x reader#sugawara x reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu smut#atsumu x reader smut#atsumu miya#kuroo#sugawara#atsumu#kuroo x reader smut#kuroo smut#sugawara x rreader smut#sugawara smut#♡.cherry#♡.cherry's requests#tw.dumbification
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stay stay stay
summary: You're leaving, but somebody'd like you to stay.
pairing: Spencer Reid x reader
category: Angst and happy ending....mayhaps
warnings: mention of smoking and alcohol
a/n: this was fun to write LOL. not beta read or even proofread and i kind of feel like it’s a lot of nothing but i hope you enjoy anyways <3 as always Reblog my shit. I do this for free and it helps me tremendously
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You’re going to tell them tonight. Tonight, or you don’t tell them at all.
While you originally considered the latter to be a last resort, it’s looking more and more like your only option. Filing the paperwork with Hotch was easy enough; he didn’t really react beyond a curt nod and a handshake, which are typical for him regardless. It’s the rest of the team that you’re worried about. In the years you’ve spent at Quantico, the sixth floor has become home. You can’t really recall a life before brunch with JJ and Penelope on Sundays, or a time before Spencer takes you to see new foreign film releases in the park. Before Derek invites you out on runs and walks when you lose your breath, or when you and Emily haven’t exchanged copies of Cats Cradle and Jailbird like currency. This is, to put it plainly, your life now. Serial killers included. But you’re tired of it. Parts of it, at least. So you’re spreading your wings. Departing. Saying adios. Quitting, according to Strauss. Apparently the word ‘resignation’ is reserved for people higher up than you.
Tonight. You’re going to tell them. Regardless of how scary the reality that you’re doubting your decision may be.
You’re at a different bar than usual; everything’s a little brighter than it is at O’Keefe’s. The dartboard’s electronic, something JJ’s adorably enthused by, and there’s a strangely Bjork-centric karaoke lineup. It’s not the typical Friday night you’d intended to create; as you hold a beer in one hand, the taste sour on your tongue, you get the feeling that the whole team is performing a little. You have to, to have fun after these cases. Fake it till you make it.
“You alright?”
Spencer’s beside you at the bar, holding what looks suspiciously like a Shirley Temple and eyeing you with a little too much intensity. With your luck, he can see right through you. This is the most difficult aspect of leaving, you think. You’ve been partnered with Spencer for your entire career at the BAU, being the youngest and most likely to harbor…a distaste for bureaucracy. After nearly ten years of friendship, he is the last person you’d like to abandon abruptly. Logically, after putting in your two week’s notice, you’ve avoided him for the past seven days and stopped taking his calls.
“Yeah, I’m fine. This is just new.”
You’d wanted it to be quiet, low-key. In your mind, you’d pictured telling them at the bar, a round of drinks ordered after. The clink of glasses sending you off into true adulthood. Instead, the team is scattered across the room, each absorbed in something different. There’s no way you’ll be able to corral them all into a serious conversation when this much drink has been poured. You watch as Spencer nods in your periphery, his hair falling into his face. Maybe it’s the beer, but it’s incredibly taxing to avoid reaching out and coiling a curl around one of your fingers. Just to see how it’d feel.
Your friendship isn’t new. That feeling is.
You go back to an unsteady silence, crushing peanuts in between your fingers as you mourn tonight’s plan. You didn’t want to have to leave without a trace. Technically, with minimal traces. There’s little you can hide from Penelope Garcia, to be fair. But this wasn’t how you wanted to do things.
Across the bar, you catch sight of movement. Derek and Penelope are slow-dancing to Usher and Emily’s really laughing, in the way that she only does when she feels safe, her whole body shaking from the effort of it. JJ’s filming from the corner, and you feel yourself smile to nobody as you watch them giggle and sway around the sticky floor. In another time, at another bar, you’d be right there with them. In a way, you’ve already left.
It’s entirely too hot in here, the breath and push of warm bodies suffocating. It’s nearly one in the morning—how is Spencer still here? Is Emily even sober enough to drive? Your mind races and maybe this is what makes your stomach churn; either way, you abandon your seat at the bar and make a beeline for the door. It’s only a little cooler outside, which you attribute to the sickly sweet humidity of late summer, but it’s still better. Against the brick wall, you fish in the pocket of your puffy jacket for a light.
God. You had really wanted to tell them.
“That’s a bad habit.”
You feel him beside you before you see him, his frame lanky and vaguely cedar-scented. Turning, you let the cigarette butt between your fingers fall to the ground. You stomp the spark out with your heel, trying not to laugh as you watch Spencer watch you.
“As if I don’t know.” He bugs you about it all the time, peppering you with statistics and factoids that feel right out of seventh grade health class. This is nothing new, but the animosity in your tone is. He nods, taking your feedback with an earnest expression on his face. Hands in his pockets, back slightly hunched, he meets your eye.
“Really. I worry about your lungs sometimes. You’re young, but your odds aren’t good.”
Your lips twitch upwards—not by choice. Spencer has a proclivity for making you smile. He means what he says, and it’s endearing. Profilers have a tendency to lie, because they know they can. At least, they know it’ll take a while for them to get caught. It’s a sign of something like trust when they choose to bestow you with the truth. You take a breath, reminded of your lungs, then exhale a little staggered as picture them, blackened and dry, overtaken with smoke. Maybe he’s right. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“This team copes by barhopping. We all have our vices, but I don’t hear you worry about their livers.” You level, your tone a little harsher than you intend. Defensive; being a profiler is only an added bonus in detecting the fact that he’s touched a nerve. You want to show him the box of Nicorette patches on your bathroom counter, the missed calls from your mother, the receipts from corner stores. Instead, you look him in the face.
“I like your lungs. That’s why I worry.” He takes an imperceptible step closer, craning his neck to look at the sky. He’s scanning for something, the moonlight casting a dreamy glow onto his features. He’s softer like this, less angular and harsh. It’s only when his eyes flick towards you that you realize you’ve been staring. It’s been a while since you were this close to each other, but each tiny detail on his face comes back to you in time. They’re hard to forget, and you piece them together slowly, tinkering with your toolbox until you’ve put your memory of him back together.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you lately.” You manage to get the words out despite the intensity of the look you’re sharing. It’s a little overwhelming, to be communicating silently and upholding a verbal conversation at the same time. You can’t decipher what his eyes are saying, only that yours are begging him to do something, to move closer, to stay.
“I know it’s hard. We’re not much if we’re not there for each other.”
He’s thanking you now, you can tell that much. Raking a hand through his hair, he shakes his head. The bar door swings open, a couple exiting hand in hand. The woman shoots you a tipsy smile before turning back to her partner, stumbling as she clings to their arm. Spencer straightens his spine and clears his throat. A wave of something tinted vaguely green and almost jealous crosses your mind, but you gulp it down before you can say something stupid. Spencer speaks and you’re jolted out of the idea, focused on watching him move.
“It’s not your fault, and I’m fine dealing with it on my own. I know things are rough for you too.”
“Still. I should be there.”
He nods, and the silence settles into something slightly more tolerable than awkwardness. When did this happen? You’ve always been close, but held at arms length. Emily once told you that Spencer wears an emotional life vest, and it’s true. He mitigates all risk, at the cost of vulnerability. You don’t know much, but you know everything. You should have told him. How couldn’t you have known, that it’d be this difficult? How didn’t you expect that you’d never be able to walk away?
“You can tell me what’s going on, you know.” He reminds you, matter-of-factly. You shrug, hands in your pockets as you watch your breath grow cool in the night air.
“I’m quitting.”
“Please don’t leave.”
You speak in unison, words jumbled and overlapping. His eyes widened in panic, already scrambling to formulate a response. You flush red, reaching to bridge the distance with a comforting hand on his arm. A slow ache built in your chest, the impact of his words lodging itself in your ribcage, a little delayed.
“You knew?”
It’s peculiar; he seems to relax instead of stiffen, as if he was expecting it. Your hand takes on a new weight against his arm and you can’t decide whether to move or stay put.
“You’ve been pulling away from everyone. I saw you talk to Strauss the other day. Thought maybe you were getting your affairs in order, trying to make a clean break.” He offers, rushing through the sentence like it pains to say. As he moves, hands gesticulating wildly, your arm falls to the side.
Huh. You’re a worse profiler than you thought. You’d been discreet, quiet, private, yet he’s figured you out. You blink the feeling of defeat out of your eyes and stammer, trying to catch your breath. It’s impossible, with the way he’s looking at you. Like you’ve crushed his heart beneath your heel.
“You’re right. I’ve just been thinking, lately.”
He looks younger, in the dark. You’re reminded of late nights on the sixth floor, spinning chairs and too-long ties.
“We joined the Bureau right out of grad school. We were babies. I had no idea what I wanted, at twenty four. I still have no real idea what I want.” You scoff on the last part of your sentence, trying to diminish the truth of it.
“But I miss teaching. I miss students, and classrooms, and helping people on their good days, not just their worst. I’ve done great work, here. But it’s a lot. And I’m tired.” He’s understanding you, and this is uniquely infuriating. With a clear of his throat, he looks at you with a little glint of sadness in his eyes and it’s at this moment that you realize he wants you to stay. He’s too kind to tell you this.
“It makes sense. You loved TA’ing criminal psych, I remember. I can’t fault you for pursuing your happiness.” He squints, brushing at his eyes. I’ve had happiness, partly, because I’ve had you. “That’s all we can really do, right?”
“Tell me to stay and I will.”
“You can’t ask me that.” His voice is hushed, accusatory, and you’re too focused on how uniquely angry he sounds to absorb the reality that he’s taken your hand into his.
“Why not? If you need me, I’ll stay.”
You’ve been wondering when the regret will kick in; apparently it’s underneath a stoplight, the smell of cigarette smoke more of a memory than anything else. He shakes his head, sniffing.
“You’re not the first person to go, and you won’t be the last. It’s my responsibility to learn to cope, not yours to accommodate me.” It hits you then, as the light from the street crosses his eyes and illuminates them a new shade of hazel. You don’t have to go. Not tonight, not ever. Not really.
“Spencer.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been fine before. I just wish we had more time, you know? I’d do things differently. It’s funny. We had so long, but it feels like no time at all.”
“Spencer.” You feel much younger than your years, tugging on his sleeve. He’s focused on something in the distance, and you don’t miss the shimmer of tears on his cheeks.
“I want you to be happy. I can’t take that away from you.”
“Spencer. I’m leaving the Bureau. That doesn’t mean I have to leave you, too.” This renders him speechless, his face blank as you realize just how close the two of you are. Neither of you move, though. You take in a tentative breath and feel the lapel of his coat between your fingers, trying not to get your hopes up.
“Ask me to stay.”
“What do you mean? We just—“
“Ask me to stay with you.” You give his collar a tug with each of the last words, trying to keep his attention. His eyes drift across your face, pausing on your lips before it seems to hit him.
“Oh.”
A small smile pulls on the corners of his mouth, and you get the sense that you’ve won. He exhales, a little shaky, and you feel something a little like pride. This fades, though, when his eyes widen and he smirks as he begins to tell a joke.
“Nobody’s ever done that before.” He clearly thinks this is very funny; his grin goes a little crooked as he jokes. You ignore the melancholy tone laced beneath it; this is a happy moment, at its glowing core. By now, you’re half-hugging in the cold, pressed against each other in a lopsided embrace.
“Yeah, well. I’m not nobody.” You give his hand a squeeze, relishing in his warmth. He’s come back to life, a little. The color’s returned to his cheeks and he’s smiling with his whole face, cheeks split into a grin reserved for you. You rest your head on his shoulder, suppressing a smile.
“No,” he says, and you’re not sure that you’ll ever forget the feeling of his lips as they ghost over your cheek, the edge of your jaw, the shell of your ear. “You’re not.”
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pairing : miya atsumu x gn!reader
genre : fluff
words : 2.1k
synopsis : Atsumu and you have been childhood friends since the day your parents decided to have a play date. You have always fancied him and he does too, but something made you two hold back your true feelings for each other. Until one day, when you called him.
tw : none, except some slight cursing
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this is the fic i’ve written for @atsumwah and mine fic trade collab ! it’s the first time we’re doing a fic trade together and i had a lot of fun writing this for u, love ! 💗 also a BIG shout-out to @beautifulblhell @meiansmistress @laineeey00 @luvnami and one of my irl best friend for wanting to beta it and helping me out with my awful grammar ! i rlly learned a lot from u all, so thank u so much lovelies ! i adore u all 💕
lu’s fic : 🦊
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“When are ya gonna confess to them?”
Miya Atsumu, who was throwing his volleyball up and down while laying on his back, promptly turned his attention to Osamu. By doing so, he forgot that the ball was still mid-air, which resulted in him getting hit in the face.
“Ouch! What the hell, ‘Samu?! Why ya askin’ me that all of a sudden?”
Osamu couldn’t help but let out a snicker, seeing how Atsumu was now holding his nose. He walked up to his brother and made himself comfortable on the floor.
“I see the way ya look for them in the crowd when we’re playing matches, ‘Tsumu,” he said while smirking at his twin. Atsumu stubbornly turned his head away from Osamu, while muttering, ‘am not’ under his breath.
The person in question was their childhood friend and neighbor, Y/n. The twins had known Y/n since the moment their parents decided to let them have a play date. From that day onward the three of you were inseparable, that is until you all hit puberty and started to attend the same high school. The three of you began to speak less and less with each other, too busy with your own agendas. The twins were focused on volleyball and you on your studies.
Sometimes you would make room in your busy schedule to watch their matches, and recently during their last match, Osamu noticed his twin’s weird behavior.
Atsumu’s eyes would search the crowd for a second too long on the days you promised to attend their match, before turning around on his heels and getting ready for his serve. His face would either morph into his usual smirk or he would wear an expression that could kill whoever it’s directed to, depending if he did or didn’t see you in the crowd.
Needless to say, Osamu knew his twin well enough to know he has been crushing on you for a while now. He would ditch the team after practice in order to walk with you and he would spend extra time and care on his appearance, more so than usual. Osamu even caught him saying your name during his sleep while hugging his pillow close to him. That last one freaked him out a bit, he’s not gonna lie.
“Ya should ask them out already and not act like a coward.”
Atsumu jumped to his feet, agitated by Osamu’s persistence. “I am not a coward, ya shitface! Ya better focus on yer own non-existent love life! I have already enough to worry about, so just drop it!” he bellowed out, before storming out of the gym.
Normally, Osamu would retaliate, but the way Atsumu reacted only further proved his suspicions. He took a bite out of his onigiri as he watched Atsumu come back for his gym bag. He then proceeded to stick out his middle finger, before again stomping through the gym doors.
“Stupid ‘Samu. What does he know anyways? He should be mindin’ his own business for once,” Atsumu muttered in frustration while walking to the bus stop.
Atsumu has never been the type who craved for a relationship. He often saw it as an unnecessary hassle to his already busy schedule. Volleyball has always been his priority and he will be damned if he lets his dream take the back seat for someone else.
However, if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t deny the feelings he had been developing for you recently. He tended to be a bit more competitive during matches when he knew you were in the crowd.
One time, you accidentally cheered for him during his serve, but instead of getting pissed off at you and calling you a ‘noisy pig’, he started to laugh and told you it was okay. That was one of the moments he realized you were someone special to him.
Another instance was when one of your classmates, the son of the principal, started to fancy you and wanted to ask you out on a date. Unbeknownst to you, your classmate was two-faced. He would act kind and innocent to you, but Atsumu heard him talk to his friends behind your back that he wanted to corrupt you. Needless to say, Atsumu didn’t take his behavior well and walked over to him for a ‘friendly conversation’, which had resulted in a beating to the face. He would've been expelled if you didn’t plead with the principal to let him stay. When you asked him what went through his head to beat up the son of the principal, the only answer he gave u was: “the dipshit had it comin’.”
Deep down he knew Osamu was right, that he was a coward when it came to you. He liked the reactions you gave him when he teased you. The way you would playfully hit his arm, but would instantly worry when he faked being hurt.
He liked how your eyes seemed to sparkle whenever you were talking about things you were passionate about. He liked how you changed him for the better, helped him with his homework and told him to be nicer to his fans. However, the most important thing he liked about you was how you genuinely supported and cared for him since the day you met.
He had to stop running away from you, because if he kept on pushing you away in fear of rejection, he would surely lose you. Time won’t wait for him to finally confess his feelings. He had to hurry. He had to let you know his true feelings for you, before it was too late.
He craved to be honest and clear, to speak from his heart. To be able to tell you he found you to be the loveliest person he knew. That he cared for you and that he wanted to share his hopes and dreams with you. He wanted to treat you way better than anyone else would. He wanted to show that he wouldn’t be anything you want, but would be everything you need.
He wanted to tell you the truth: that he loves you.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the spectrum was you, the person who fell in love with Atsumu since you were children. You had a few conversations with Osamu about your feelings for Atsumu and he reassured you that ‘Tsumu felt the same way. Yet, he also told you what kind of a dumbass Atsumu was and that you should give him some time to realize his own infatuation for you.
The thing was, you had been waiting for years now and there was still no indication from Atsumu that he liked you.
You couldn’t help but wonder if Osamu’s prediction was right. Had Atsumu ever thought about you when he was all alone? About the possibility of him and you being a couple and where your relationship could go? If his breath would hitch when you looked at him? If he was holding himself back, like the way you had been? Because at this point you had been waiting for so long now, knowing that your crush on him would not go away anytime soon, even if you walked away from him.
You couldn’t help but feel that there was still some hope left, that there was more than meets the eye. That both of your hearts craved each other, more than you would let on. You couldn’t stop your thoughts about him. At this point, he had you hypnotized, so mesmerized and you just wanted to know how he truly felt about you.
It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, when you reached out for your phone and dialed his phone number out of instinct. It didn’t even take him more than one ring to pick up.
“Sup, Y/n! How ya been?”
Atsumu’s familiar boisterous voice brought life to your normally quiet bedroom. “Hey, ‘Tsumu! I’ve been doing well. Quite busy with school assignments. The usual.” you heard him snicker from the other side.
“Yer should make more use out of yer teenage years, Y/n! Live a little will ya!”
You let out an indignant scoff. “Tsk, says you mister ‘I’m gonna be the best setter and spend less time with my best friend’.” you intended to sound teasing, but even you could hear the sadness that slipped in your tone.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you unsure of what to say next. That was until you heard Atsumu cough before he spoke again. His voice was uncharacteristically soft for once.
“Y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell ya something for a while now. I—euhm… wow okay, I underestimated how hard this would be. Y/n I—I like ya. Not just as a friend, but as somethin’ more than that. I want to take the chance between us, because I believe that we can make this potential relationship bloom into something more. Something that could last us forever, if ya let me.”
You couldn’t believe it. The Miya Atsumu, your best friend since forever, the one who was so adamant of not wanting a relationship, liked you back?
You felt something happening inside you. A rush of feelings, so overwhelming that you let out a gasp. The possibility that Atsumu liked you back, that he felt the same way about you, it was all too overwhelming.
Atsumu on the other hand felt more nervous by the second. He had finally poured out his true feelings to you and you hadn’t answered him back. He heard you let out a gasp and mistook it for rejection, but before he could apologize for making you feel uncomfortable and to forget anything he just said in the last couple of minutes, you seemed to come back to your senses when you let out a series of giggles.
At this point, Atsumu was thoroughly confused. Were you mocking him right now? Why were you giggling? It hadn’t taken you long to relieve him from his worried mind. “Omg ‘Tsumu, I like you too! You are such an oblivious dumbass! Do you know how long I had to wait for you to finally confess?! Even ‘Samu knew I liked you before you did.”
“…Ya kiddin’ me, right? That’s why the bastard was interrogating me?!”
Atsumu already resigned himself to the endless teasing from his twin that was yet to come. But for now that wasn’t important. The fact that his longtime childhood crush reciprocated his feelings was the most important thing to him right now.
“Ya know what, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that ya like me back. So, Y/n. Would ya like to go on a date with me tomorrow?”
Your heart fluttered from his words. You held your phone away from your ear to fist pump the air in celebration. “I would love to ‘Tsumu! what time would you like me to be ready?” you heard some shuffling on the other end of the line.
“How about 2pm? I’ll pick ya up and we can go to the new curry place downtown? Ya okay with that, babe?”
“B-babe? Since when did you call me that?” you asked him, flustered.
“Since I know that ya reciprocate my feelings and agreed to go on a date with me. Don’t you like it, babe?”
You could clearly hear the smugness in his voice, the attitude you had come to love. Your own lips formed a smirk of their own as you replied, “I didn’t say that. 2pm sounds great, it’s a date then!”
“It’s a date. See ya tomorrow, babe.”
You plopped down on your bed and held your phone tightly to your chest, a smile very evident on your face. Needless to say, Atsumu wasn’t varing any better, as he jumped in the air while bellowing a “fuck yea!”
Bystanders around him looked at him weirdly, but he didn’t care. His childhood crush liked him back and no one could take that away from him. He didn’t run away anymore. He told you his feelings, that he liked you and he intended to see it through.
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reblogs and comments are appreciated !
[a/n] : ngl i had some difficulty with writing fluff, purely bc i’m used to writing angst or hurt/comfort fics (like u already know hahaha). even though it was a bit of a challenge for me, i still enjoyed the whole process ! especially bc i had bb lu on my mind while writing about ‘tsumu, i truly hope u all enjoyed it ! <333 oh i almost forgot, but one particular song was the inspiration of this fic. can u guess which one? 👀
© sennsational 2021 - all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, or repost my works and claim it as yours.
#lu + senn’s fic trade collab 🦊🌙#haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu imagines#haikyu fanfiction#haikyu fanfic#haikyu x reader#haikyu x you#haikyu x y/n#miya atsumu x gn!reader#miya atsumu headcanons#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu miya#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu x y/n#atsumu x reader#atsumu x y/n#atsumu x you#ઉ˚࿐ — writings [🖋]
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may i request din finding out his s/o is a sith lord when they go to rescue grogu and later while cuddling have a “Tell me every terrible thing you’ve done and let me love you anyways” moment
Warnings: hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, sith!reader, established relationship, playing with canon, kissing, not beta read.
Word Count: 3679
Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader (also sith!Reader)
a/n: Hey anon!! Thank you so much for the request and sorry its taken so long for me to finish it! I hit a huge writing block with requests and decided to focus on other works. That combined with how busy school got, I fell super behind on fics. Anyway, the concept of sith!reader was really fun to explore and honestly it was something I wanted to explore long before I got this request. I might write a few other things for sith reader of y’all are interested. Otherwise I hope you all enjoy <3
Note: fic will be labeled as ‘secrets revealed’ on my masterlist and on ao3.
“Look at you darling! Switching sides must come really easily for you, hm?”
Moff Gideon’s words had echoed throughout the cockpit, his image flickering within the hologram that shined before the three of you currently stood there. A sharp pain of dread had bubbled within you at the weight of what he had said, unease finding itself littering within your thoughts as the meaning behind it had settled among you all. You knew eventually this would come up, but had you thought you would have more time before it did. Honestly you didn’t think it would be here so soon, otherwise you would have already prepared yourself for this discussion with the Mandalorian.
“What?”
“Oh you didn’t know Mando?” Moff Gideon had smirked, his smile the most sickening thing you had ever laid your sights on, “Your little friend there is a sith.”
The Mandalorian’s gaze had snapped to yours in an instant, confusion and concern held within its blistering depth. He didn’t know much in regards to the sith, but he had learned well enough about them in his time traveling with the child. He had heard the horrors of what they had done—the wars they had raged and slaughters they had committed—he knew that the sith weren’t good. In fact they were the exact opposite of good. The sith were dark and evil on all accounts.
“That… That’s not true.” He had said in disbelief, the idea of you being one of them seeming so unlikely to him. You had always been so sweet and kind, treating the child as if he was your own. Even caring for him and the Mandalorian as if you were family. You couldn’t be a sith. “He’s lying. Right cyar’ika?”
Unmistakable shame had consumed you at his words, and you had looked away from him at his pleading question. You couldn’t seem to form an answer, and honestly you didn’t know if you wanted to, especially not with how he was looking at you in the moment.
“Mando listen… I-”
“-And,” Gideon’s voice had cut you off, his enjoyment of your suffering in the situation clear in just his tone alone, “They’ve been working with me the entire time. Well. They were at least. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be bringing me the child anytime soon there, especially not when you’re playing house with a Mandalorian.”
At the imperial’s words, Din’s gaze had finally moved from yours and down to the child that was still held tightly in your arms. His fingers visibly twitching with the sudden need to snatch the little one from your grasp. His concern and worry was evident even with the helmet that shielded his expression from your view. The sight of which had only caused for your heart to crack with sadness at the mistrust he was sending your way.
“Well congratulations my dear sith lord on your happily ever after!” Gideon had said as he ended off his call with a laugh. The holopad shutting off soon after, and allowing for a deathly silence to fall over the room once more. The air of the small space now feeling tight, and almost suffocating, as you two stared at one another for what felt like an eternity.
The Mandalorian had approached you cautiously after some time. Every step he took calculated, and slower, the closer he got. He had soon nearly snatched the child from your grasp—almost as if touching you for even the slightest of seconds would have burned him—now shielding the little one away from your prying eyes, and whatever evil he must have thought you carried.
You couldn’t blame him of course. As you probably would have reacted in the same way if you were in his shoes, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to see your beloved Mandalorian responding like this to the news. It hurt to see his mistrust in you.
“Din…”
“Let’s get out of here.” He had replied sternly, setting the child down in his own seat far away on the other side of the room, before motioning for you to take the other opposite one. “We need to get as far away from here as possible. Don’t want Gideon catching up.”
Another wave of pain had washed over you at his sudden coldness, causing your eyes to brim with tears, as you had nodded and followed the Mandalorian’s directions anyway. You didn’t have the heart to argue or even defend yourself at this time. Din was right after all, you three needed to leave the area as quickly as possible. The Imperial and his ship were surely close on your tail if he had felt the need to speak with you over the communicator.
The ride to the next planet was dreadfully quiet. Not even the child had cooed or chattered on the way there. Instead he had simply stared between you two with lowered ears and wide confused eyes. He had to have known something was going on, though it was unclear if he knew exactly what had been said and done.
Eventually the ship had landed flawlessly thanks to the Mandalorian’s piloting. Than a quick check of the area had made it apparent that you three had managed to escape the Empire’s hold once again.
You had watched as the Mandalorian fiddled with the control panel. He was making sure the ship was settled and secure just as he always did after landing, though this time you could see the unease in each of his movements. He hadn’t said a word to you yet, but you knew the two of you would have to talk about what happened sooner or later. Better now than never.
“Din I think we need to talk.”
“I’m putting the kid to bed.” He had stated simply, not even looking at you as he stood from his and made his way down to the hold with the child in toe, “It's way past his bedtime.”
You didn’t say anything in response to his words after he had left you alone in the cockpit. Instead you had chosen to move down into the hull and to your own cot silently, as you figured that you wouldn’t push him to talk tonight. Though of course, this reasoning of yours hadn’t stopped the feeling of guilt and despair settling firmly within your gut from the brisk interaction.
The sheets there were stiff and cold as you laid within them. Clearly they hadn’t been used in a long while, as you usually choose to share the sleeping quarters which belonged to the Mandalorian with him. Both of you had enjoyed the other's presence more than sleeping alone, and with your growing relationship, it just seemed normal for you two to begin sleeping in the same bed.
Tonight of course would be the first in a long time where you would be sleeping alone again.
From your cot you could take in the sight of Din rocking the child, as he tried to sooth the little one into resting. He had seemed to struggle with it tonight. The kid was far too restless to want to sleep any time soon—regardless of the long day he had just suffered through. You had watched the two of them for another moment, smiling sadly, before closing the curtain which had once provided you with privacy. Although tonight it had only felt like another wall between you and your family. Now existing only as a reminder of the details of your life you had hidden from them all this time.
Din had eventually managed to get the kid to lay down and sleep. A sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the curtain that had separated your space from the surrounding area. More rustling and the clicking of metal could be heard shortly after. The sound of it making you realize that he was now getting himself ready for bed. You had figured he wouldn’t be coming to see you that night, but the confirmation had still felt icy to your heart, and you found yourself once again on the brink of crying.
That’s probably why the knock on the wall next to your cot was such a shock to you. It was Din’s usual way of asking for permission to enter your enclosed space. He was always kind and considerate, wanting to make sure that you were always comfortable regardless of whatever else had happened. Tonight seemed to be no different in this regard at least, and you took comfort in what little normality you could hold onto.
“You can come in.” You had answered quietly, propping yourself up as you watched him pull the curtain back to let himself in, forcing a smile at the sight of him entering. “Is the kid ok?”
The Mandalorian had already stripped himself down to his under clothes and helmet. The metal shield which still remained over his face was a clear sign that he had been feeling uncomfortable and uneasy in the moment. You two had been together for a long while now, and he had ended up showing you his face some months ago. It was still only a recent development in your blossoming relationship, and it was one you were sure you had just ruined for the man with your lies now unraveled.
No wonder he had chosen to keep it on this fateful night.
“He took longer to put down than usual.” He had said when your gaze had locked with his visor, though he had soon broken the contact all too quickly, looking away as he stood awkwardly before you. “He seems restless.”
“That’s surprising.” You had said, though your mind wondered if the child was so restless because he could tell his parents were currently at odds with one another. “You’d think after the long day he’s had he would be exhausted.”
The Mandalorian had only let out a grunt in reply, sitting himself next to you on the cot as another silence had fallen between you two. He had looked down to his hands, twiddling them nervously, as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. He had looked up again briefly, as if he was trying to gage your expression, or even understand what you must have been thinking, but he had ended up lowering his sight again before finally deciding on what to say to you.
“So you’re a sith lord.”
The way he had gone straight to the point had almost made you feel surprised, but knowing him well, meant knowing that he was one to never beat around the bush. This was especially true when it came to important topics or situations, and even more so when they involved the child.
“Well no—I mean yes—but it's complicated and…” You had trailed off, looking away from him again as you tried to piece together exactly what you had wanted to tell him. Although you knew you had to tell him the truth regardless of how you felt and how much you wish you could just bury your past away from his sight. “Yes. At least at one point I was, not really sure if I count as one now.”
“Why?”
“I… I don’t know.” You had said, another wave of guilt washing over you at your words. Honestly you had felt unsure of what to say, or even how to explain it all to him. It wasn’t as if you had planned for your life to have gone that way. “Din I’m so sorry”
The Mandalorian had looked over at you, his own confession clear in just his voice alone, “Why are you apologizing?”
“I mean… I’ve done terrible things.”
“So have I.”
“No Din.” You choked out a sob, your lip trembling between each word that was spoken between you two, finding that you weren’t able to keep your tears in any longer. “I’ve actually done unspeakable things. I’m quite literally the worst of the worst.”
To your shock, his arms had moved to pull you into his chest, and you had found yourself cradled there as he hummed in a calming manor. “Tell me everything Cyar’ika.”
Those words from your love were the last ones to bring your already crumbling walls down. Your confession soon spilling out of you like the fiercest of storms. It seemed to have no end as you had rambled all your wrong doings to the man before you. All the way from how you had fallen, to the mission you had received from moff Gideon, and everything in between—there was nothing that wasn’t revealed by you to him in that moment.
Every confession had only brought more tears to flow from you, and as they piled higher you knew you had become closer to losing the man you loved. You had expected him to be disgusted and furious. You had assumed he would toss you aside and leave you to wallow in your disgrace. Any sane person would have, and you wouldn’t blame them.
The Mandalorian had done the opposite though, instead choosing to hold you close to him, as you talked and talked. Your whole life and terrible deeds being fed to him one by one. Even then he had never let go of you—even when hearing the worst things you had ever done—he had just kept you held tight in his arms while listening.
Eventually your words had died out, your confession of sins over as you now silently cried in his arms. His embrace had remained as a calming presence, and his shoulder had become a sturdy place for you to cry into, as you only broke down further into his arms. His hand had gently run soothingly circles along your spine—the same way that you had done for him on some of his worst nights—and his voice had been soft as he spoke reassurance to you in the most softest of tones.
“I’m sorry.” You had mumbled again into his chest. “Din I’m so sorry about everything.”
“Was what he said true? About the child and your mission.” Din had asked, whatever he was feeling now unreadable, as he had waited for your response.
You had only nodded in reply at first, burying your face farther into the crook of his neck, though you knew you did not deserve such a comfort. “It is. All of it. I was supposed to take him from you after earning your trust and then take him back to Moff Gideon—leaving you for dead.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Din’s question had made you pull back and look away. A wave of heat washing over you at the answer which danced at the tip of your tongue. He had waited patiently for your reply though, allowing you to take as much time as you needed to form your thoughts together properly.
“Because I fell in love with you. I love you so much Din.” You had whispered as you looked back to him. His grip on you only tightening at hearing those words leave your lips. “I fell in love with you and the child. You’re the most important things to me. I’ve never had a family before now, but you two… you both treated me as such without a second thought.”
A sound of the child crying had interrupted you both before Din could form a reply, and he had found himself letting go of you, so he could stand and go to sooth the little one. You had quickly stopped him though, looking up at him through pleading and tear stained eyes.
“I… can I? Please?”
Din had stared at you for a moment, and it felt as if you would combust on the spot if he didn’t answer soon. After a brief silence, he had moved his own hand to brush away the tears on your cheek. The feeling of his skin against yours a comfort that you had found yourself leaning into while also basking in the warmth it had brought.
“Of course cyar’ika.”
From his words, you had soon stood and quickly made your way to the child. Even sooner, you had scooped the crying infant into your arms, rocking him back and worth, as you did your best to soothe him. A quiet and soft hum leaving you as you calmed the little child wailing in your arms.
The Mandalorian had watched from the sidelines, his heart swelling and overflowing with his fondness at the sight of the two of you together. He had continued watching even after the child’s cries had subsided, his gaze never leaving you two, as you had tucked the little creature back into his bed. He had soon stood again from the cot after that, quietly removing the helmet he wore and setting it to the side, before making his way over to where you still stood watching over the resting child.
“I love you too cyar’ika.” He had whispered when his body pressed into yours, his breath ghosting over your ear, as he pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. The scuff on his chin tickling you and sending another flush of warmth to coarse through your form again.
A small gasp had left your lips at his sudden touch and a few stray tears had formed at the corner of your eyes once more. “Din I… are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“Even after everything I told you?” You had turned in his arms and felt your grip tighten along his own. Your eyes searching his for any doubt that they may have held, but instead only finding his undeniable love and fondness staring back at you within his brown hues. “Do you really still love me?”
“Yes cyar’ika. I still love you.” He had said, a small smile gracing his lips, as he nuzzled his nose against your own. “I never stopped.”
“But earlier...”
“I won’t lie, I was concerned and worried after hearing what Moff Gideon had said.” He had confessed, looking away almost shamefully, “I was scared that everything between us was a lie, and I feared that the child was in danger, or maybe had been for longer than I thought he was. I was afraid cyar’ika. I’m sorry.”
You had looked away again, another ping of guilt blossoming within your heart at the sadness you had heard in his voice, “I… Din I don’t know what to say honestly. Other than the fact that it's not you who should be apologizing.”
“Don’t be like that cyar’ika.” He had said gently, allowing himself to press another kiss to your forehead. “Now come on. It’s late, and you look exhausted.”
The Mandalorian had soon guided you to the cot again, and you had found yourself settled against his chest while wrapped tightly in his arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you could still see where the child slept soundly, and you had found yourself watching over him as you both laid there together in the darkness. The sound of the littles snores from the small creature, having brought a small smile to your face, before your mind had begun to wander back to earlier times.
“He knows.” You had said out of the blue, your tired voice causing the man’s eyes to flicker open and glance back down to you in his arms.
“Who?”
“The child.” You had replied, finally looking away from where the child slept, as you played and toyed anxiously with Din’s fingers that had intertwined themselves with yours. “He must have felt it through the force. He could always tell what I was, and could always sense the darkness within me. He’s always known.”
“Hm. Is that why he didn’t like you at first?” Din had teased, and you felt his lips smile against your skin where they had rested themselves earlier.
“Probably.” You had allowed yourself to chuckle at the thought. The little creature really hadn’t liked you at first, always throwing up a fit and glaring at you when he thought you had gotten too close to Din. “I don’t blame him, the sith and jedi aren’t exactly on good terms.”
“So I’ve heard.”
A smile played on your lips at his reply, and you snuggled yourself more into his chest at the feeling of his hand trailing along your back. The circles he drew causing small shivers and a wave of warmth to flow through you again. The gesture having relaxed you and allowed for your thoughts to teeter on the edge of sleep.
“I meant what I said you know? About everything.” You had mumbled with another yawn, as your eyes struggled to stay open, “I really do love you and Grogu.”
“I know, and we both love you as well.” Din had shushed you, allowing himself to kiss your forehead and mumble his own reassurance again. “Now get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning once you’ve rested, ok?”
You had nodded, resisting the tears that had tried to fall from your eyes again, as you had completely relaxed into his arms now. The need for sleep pulling you closer and closer to the dreamland you had so desired in the moment.
Din on the other hand had continued to draw shapes along your back, his eyes closed, as he murmured and hummed the sweetest of things into the kisses he left along your skin. Somewhere deep inside of your soul you had felt as if you didn’t deserve his kindness and love, but you had found yourself drowning within his affections anyway, clinging to his presence in a refusal to let it go.
The Mandalorian had no plans of letting you go anyway. He would hold you within his embrace and love you for as long as you allowed him to. Through the bad and the good—he’d be by your side even through the toughest of times. After all, you were a part of his little clan of three, and regardless of your past—he loved you like no other.
#the mandalorian#din djarin#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian x reader#mando x reader#mando#din#din x reader#mandalorian#mandalorian x reader#sith!reader#gender neutral reader#my fics#requests#star wars#star wars fanfic#the mandaloran fanfic
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I hate titles w a passion
Characters: Albedo, Childe, Kaeya x GN! Reader with tics
WC: 627
Genre: Scenarios, bulleted
Warnings: Mentions of tics
Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, no beta we die like hilichurls
Disclaimer: This is based off of my personal experience with tics, having them for a long while now. This is in no way intended to invalidate anyone else's experiences with tics
Hehe I was rudely reminded I had an ehe vocal tic bc of all the ehe te nandayo jokes, which was ofc followed by another video without a tic warning and so yeah I wrote this out of spite o_o
“...What was that?
Probably a bit confused because he hasn’t seen anyone with tics before
You have to explain that it’s normal for you and nothings wrong, he’s a bit hesitant to accept it but he trusts you
He’s curious
He’ll ask a few questions but drop it after a while
Won’t straight up study you unless you ask him about it
Maybe this is just a me thing but I don’t tic around people I’m not somewhat comfortable with? Either by suppressing them or being so tense in general from being around them
Probably kinda touched you trust him enough
Doesn’t mind it when you tic, probably ignores it for the majority unless you’re struggling with something because of them
Even if you think your vocal tics are loud or annoying it doesn’t bother him, it’s not unusual for you so why should they?
Probably the calmest when you have tic attacks, waiting it out with you
Has you lay down on the bed so you don’t hit something on accident, if you want to he’d have a conversation with you to hopefully take your mind off of it
If someone stares at you/makes fun of you, they probably won’t get anything more than a nasty glare from him. If you bring it up to him later he’d reassure you
Overall reacts so much better than the other two on the list—
“It’s a part of who you are, why would I be annoyed by it?”
Ngl big brother instincts kick in, probably gets really concerned about it and asks if you’re okay
Makes it way more awkward then it should be
After you explain it, he asks a few questions
Probably finds it interesting and will keep asking you about it even if they’re really acting up because you’re thinking about it
You don’t have the heart to tell him talking about them makes them worse so you just kinda suffer and hope it’ll pass
Might take you to Baizhu unless you insist against it
Glances over at you every time, simply because he’s not used to it
After a few weeks you cave and tell him it makes you self conscious
He tries but… like really tries… i swear…
Despite this, he doesn’t find them annoying
Might tease you about them unless (until) he realizes how uncomfy it makes you, apologizes (kinda) and dotes on you more to make up for it
Freaks tf when you have a tic attack for the first time, probably more than you did, you kinda just have to take care of it yourself, not that you’re not used to it
After it kinda calms down he makes you some food and gets you something to drink
Will fight anyone who stares at/makes fun of you and makes them sorely regret it
He’s doing his best let him be
First time you did in front of him, he kinda just stared at you waiting for an explanation. If you didn’t get the hint he’d just ignore it
Eventually he’d just come up and ask you about it
Again like Albedo’s, feels really touched you’re comfortable enough around him
He trusts that you’ll come to him and he’ll learn about it as he goes so he might ask 2 questions at most. They’re more about if you’re okay, if it hurts, etc
Doesn’t mind them, thinks a few of them are kinda cute ngl but wouldn't go out of his way to trigger them. like ever.
They’re not really an issue with him, only really has opinions on them if they make you hurt yourself on accident then he hates them
The first few times you have a tic attack he’s pretty calm on the outside but is freaking out ngl
Checks to make sure you’re okay physically
If someone mentions it in public, don’t expect to see them again <3
I mean they’re alive and fine just threatened by Kaeya when you weren’t paying attention
Is it obvious I dont have the motivation to write for kaeya
#genshin impact#albedo#childe#kaeya#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#albedo x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia#tartaglia x reader#ajax#ajax x reader#damn why he have so many names#chooose one goddamn#kaeya x reader#headcanons#genshin headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#scenarios#genshin scenarios#genshin impact scenarios
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Oh I am very interested in nr 22, because you very much have your own writing style.
Buckle up, it's a bumpy road, lol!
My writing process is probably going to make some people pull their hair out or scream, but it works!
If I'm not working from a specific prompt for a fest, I almost always start with a line of dialogue. The dialogue usually comes to me like at really inconvenient parts of the day, so I have to write it down in my Jot app and hope I remember the vibe when I start to work with it. I really like starting fics or scenes with dialogue. It grabs me as a reader, and I think it helps set the tone in a piece. A real challenge would be for me to write a fic over 2k without any dialogue and in a "reliable narrator" voice.
So I'll build a bit from the dialogue and decide where I'm going with it. Lines, for instance, I thought about, "We're too old for morning sex," which ofc screamed "Remus" to me, so I knew who was saying it and I knew I wanted Sirius to react because he's Extra and it would be more entertaining. ;)
Unreliable narrators are where I live. I love it. Let me have misunderstandings and stream of consciousnesses and all that good stuff, keep the reader guessing. They don't get to know anything my character doesn't know! :D
Someone asked me if I could share my writing playlist and I was so embarrassed at myself because...I will listen to one song on loop for as long as it takes to write, even if it's not a "song fic". If I listen to different ones, I lose my focus and my ADHD brain loves to hyperfixate on something. 10-hour loops make brain go mmmm.
Here's a hair-pulling part: I don't pick a tense until about 75% of the way in. 😬 I naturally drift to present tense when I start writing, but sometimes I'll shift to past. I always figure it out and fix it before I publish, but it's sort of that chaotic disaster human energy i exist with lol.
Another potential scream: I almost never draft. I just...start writing. I'll have my dialogue, my POV, and an end goal (normally). And I'll just...write. I am fortunate to be a very fast typist and a very quick thinker, so I can keep up with my thoughts while I write. I'll just go and go and go until either a) I need to look up a word, b) I need to research or verify something, or c) I'm done. Sometimes I don't have the time to finish actually writing, and THEN I'll do little action points or more dialogue in chunks like:
//Remus goes to the market and picks up vegetables
//Sirius makes a joke about the vegetables, make it good krethes
//they end up having a food fight even though they're 50, we love to see
(yes, I talk to myself in the blurbs lol)
Once I get the content down, I'll reread. I tweak dialogue constantly to make it punchy and impactful while still sounding natural to the character. Banter is my favorite thing to write, and I want it to FEEL flirty and fun. I fix my tenses, usually have to change "thing" to "thin", "Remorse" to "Remus", and correct my spelling of courtesy because really...it's a stupid fucking word, and give it another read through. I try to read my work at least 3 times with 1 time out loud or mouthing silently to make sure I haven't missed anything.
I...almost never get a beta. 👀 I'm impatient! When my writing's done, I want to post it immediately! I've used a beta on Silver for Monsters mostly for "does this make sense to someone outside the Witcher fandom" and for fests that require one. I find that I frustrate betas who aren't used to my writing style. I abuse the ever loving shit out of a comma and the em dash, and I don't know the meaning of "run-on sentence". I've accepted this about myself, but it drives some betas up the wall. Whoops!
I tried to correct myself and write in shorter, grammatically sound sentences but...it felt stifling. I wasn't able to express the emotions of my character properly and everything felt so abrupt. Someone once called my Explicit fics "poetic smut" and I think it's one of my favorite comments about my writing style as a whole.
I feel like I could continue forever, and I'm happy to, but this is getting long! Feel free to ask me a specific question or six if you have them, I love talking about my writing. ❤️
Thank you!
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What a Shift (I can't believe I got to write another one omg?)
(Imagine 2)
Summary: “D'you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?”
Warning: DUI accidents, mentions of drugs, EMT stuff
I apologize for any errors (English isn't my first language and all my works are not beta-read) and the inaccuracy (I tried my best to research as much as I can). I also use gifs to only show what is happening (actions, gestures, etc.) and not to show the physical appearance, etc. of the reader. Feedback is very welcome, let me know where and how I can improve <3
~
"Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun." You murmured under your breath while slowly making circles with your fingers on your temple, all the while putting pressure as the headache grew.
You were thankful that it was your turn to be behind the wheel and not the one hopping out of the vehicle to scan the area for the caller, you watched as your partner turned her head from left to right before leaning to the device on her shoulder to radio in your dispatcher and inform them of your current status.
You already had a hunch that it was a prank call from the start when your dispatcher spoke to both of you while on the way to the location they received the call from. You haven’t heard of anyone using a telephone booth in years, let alone aware of any telephone booths still existing in New York in this day and age!
'We already rang them back three times but there was no answer.' They said, their voice static through the radio. ‘But the caller did request an ambulance.'
‘If you wouldn’t mind having a quick drive-by, see if anything’s going on?’ They added before ending the call.
"Well, that stinks - literally.” The door opened, hands on her hips and brows that were furrowed to meet in the middle of her forehead - the look of disappointment and annoyance that mirrored yours. “What a bunch of assholes - an absolute waste of time.” She huffed some more before climbing back in.
“Tell me about it.” You answered with a frustrated sigh before turning to your side and reaching for the latch of your seatbelt and buckling it back. “Can’t believe some kids would think it’s fun to do this.”
“If they don’t use their heads, they better give it away, then.” Monica shook her head while clicking her tongue, already buckling her seatbelt and leaning back on her seat. “They’re costing us money.”
“They’re costing us lives.” You almost exclaimed as you started the engine, shifting the gear stick and letting the ambulance move away from the prank caller’s location. “Do they not realize that we could have been saving lives, responding elsewhere?”
“Right?” Monica agreed, both of your moods already declining and it wasn’t even halfway through your 12-hour shift.
“They got a special place in hell.” She said just before the monitor in the middle of the dashboard beeped, alerting the two of you of another emergency.
“Oh, lookie here,” Monica said, her spirits suddenly perked up as she sat up more attentively to see what it could be this time.
“What is it?” You asked as you turned on the sirens along with the flashing blue and red lights on top of the ambulance, occasionally honking at cars that won’t move out of the way.
“Vehicular accident involving a sedan and a motorcycle,” Monica spoke the information out loud to you as you continued your drive to the location, following the route that was sent to your ambulance’s GPS. “According to them, the sedan was beating a bunch of red lights before t-boning the motorcyclist.”
“Ouch,” you reacted, your face wincing at the visualization your brain brought up in your head.
“Hello, ladies.” You heard Darcy, your dispatcher, again through the radio. “Cops are already on the scene; we’ve also called for EMT backup.”
“Apparently, the sedan caused more damage as we speak.” She added.
“What’s gotten into the person?” You asked, more to yourself than to Monica and Darcy.
“Police said that the driver of the sedan was DUI, but we’re still waiting on their final reports,” Darcy answered.
“Alright, thank you, Darcy. We’re already around the corner.” You informed her before ending the call.
Just up ahead, you saw similar blue and red lights flashing on top of at least 3 police cars. Some of the officers on site were already guiding and rerouting other cars that were driving in the direction the accident took place.
Unbuckling your belt and stepping out, you opened the side of the ambulance and handed over Monica’s EMT bag, and slung yours on your shoulder before meeting with the police officer who was walking up to you.
Your eyes were already scanning the premises trying to decipher each person, be it the officers, the victims, or some nosy people who were standing on the side to watch.
“The motorcyclist took most of the brunt-” the officer was almost panting as he spoke, most likely out of breath from the adrenaline and exhaustion of chasing down the suspect. “-before hitting the front of an SUV.”
“Where’s the motorcyclist?” You asked as you neared the crowd that was huddling around to get a good look at the scene.
“Right this way.” The officer parted the crowd as more of his colleagues tried to corral the people away. “Seated by the curb - male, in his 30s.”
“And the SUV?” Monica asked.
“A family of four - 2 adults, both in their 40s, and 2 minors.” The officer informed.
“Okay, I’ll take the one with the kids,” Monica glanced your way before asking the officer to lead her to them, leaving you to take care of the t-boned motorcyclist.
Your eyes scanned for the man the officer was describing and sure enough, you found him seated at the farthest edge of the scene away from the onlookers.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” You spoke, a smile almost showing with your hands on your hips as you walked up to him. “And here I thought the Winter Soldier was indestructible.”
At the sound of your voice, Bucky almost snapped his neck at how fast he looked up. The worry lines on his forehead disappearing, the anxious heavy feeling in his chest was already replaced by a light skip in his heart, and felt little flutters in his stomach at the familiar face he was seeing.
“I’m glad you find my pain amusing, doll,” Bucky said, almost chuckling but wincing at the pain he felt on his side.
You ignored the tingling feeling in your stomach at the pet name before you gave a small comforting smile as you dropped your bag to the side, kneeling in front of him to assess his situation.
“Does Steve know?” You asked as you took your little flashlight from the breast pocket of your uniform, already laughing internally at the mother hen-like personality Captain America has for his best friend when he finds out what happened to him.
“He already beat you to it.” Bucky smiled, nodding his head to the side before looking back at you, his blue eyes giving a little sparkle - you weren’t sure if it was the noontime sun or something else that did it.
Looking at the direction he gestured to, you saw Steve already conversing with some of the police officers, his eyes would travel back to the person who caused all of this from time to time before glaring at the man.
“If looks could kill,” you chuckled at his remark.
“Okay, can you look ahead, Buck?” You requested before clicking the small flashlight and pointing it at Bucky’s eyes; inspecting their reaction, the light stubble on his jaw tickling the skin of your gloved palm as you steadied his head.
“You know, you shouldn’t have gotten up right away.” You informed him before clicking the flashlight off and tucking it back in the pocket, satisfied with the eyes' reaction to the light. “Can you feel this?”
You started to tap on his upper right arm and down to his forearm then to his fingers.
“I’m fine,” Bucky replied before answering a yes to your question.
“How ‘bout this?” You then started to tap on the side of his thighs and the rest of his leg. Again, he answered a yes.
“Were you wearing your helmet?” You asked again, now putting your attention in inspecting his head.
“I was,” he answered, gesturing to the now broken helmet just a few feet from his Harley that was laying on its side.
You were glad that he wore it today knowing that sometimes, the veteran in front of you would purposefully forget his headgear, reasoning that wherever he was headed to was nearby. Your hand brushed back the locks that fell on his forehead, did the same on the sides and the back of his head, inspecting if there were any bumps or cuts.
“Can you wiggle your toes for me?” You asked before looking down at his sock-covered feet, his toes doing as you say. You then heard him mumble something along the lines of ‘You’re starting to sound like Steve.’
“Okay, no cuts here and I can’t feel any bumps either,” you hummed to yourself as you continued to part some of his hair. “Do you know what day it is to-”
“Y/N, I swear I’m f-” You can hear the annoyance in Bucky’s voice as he reached for your wrists to stop your hands from trying to look for any more bumps in his head and push you away, you knew he hated being coddled but it was protocol and logical that you check everything.
“You’re hurt.” You told him. “You shouldn’t have moved, it could’ve caused you much more serious damage, y’know.”
He only sighed, knowing that you were right from all the stories you’ve told them of your past experiences and encounters working as part of the EMT team.
“Okay,” you say more to yourself, satisfied that he still has feelings in his limbs and that his helmet protected his head and face. Getting the alcohol-soaked pads, you carefully cleaned the scapes, cuts, and nicks that littered his right cheek and neck. “I saw you winced earlier, where’d the sedan hit you?”
“Right side, feels more like an ache,” Bucky replied looking back at you before trying to shrug off his leather jacket much to your dismay with the movement he was doing while injured. “I’m guessing it’s a broken rib.”
He ignored your nagging and protests to stop moving and that you had scissors to cut the fabric of his shirt but he proceeded to lift the clothing anyway from his troubled side; you can instantly see a bruise was starting to form there.
“Why are you so hard-headed,” you mumbled.
“You still love me for it, don’t you?” He teased, the glimmer in his blue eyes still present.
“Okay, can you rate your pain for me from 1-10?” You asked, ignoring his teasing remark as you tried to gently press on to the area he was having trouble with and looking at his face to gauge a reaction, the blue eyes rather hypnotizing as he looked back at you.
With the sudden feeling of warmth on your cheeks, you looked back down on your hands and ignored the unexpected feeling of closeness between the two of you. You heard him clear his throat as you continued to probe the right side of his torso, trying to feel for any bumps or sunken parts that might confirm his hunch.
When you heard him hiss as your fingers touched a tender part just below his second to the last rib, you looked up.
“That’s an 8.” He panted, his face contorting in pain. “I guess the serum’s taking its sweet time to work.”
Bucky groaned from the ache as you helped him pull his shirt down before taking notes with the pen and clipboard beside you, making sure to be as detailed as Helen wanted the medical finds to be.
“Isn’t that a bit too much, Y/N?” Bucky asked, looking down at the clipboard you were writing on beside him. “And how’d you know some of the information there when I haven’t even told them to you yet.”
“Bucky, I know.” You answered with a little laugh as you looked back up at him and caught Bucky with one brow up and a smirk playing on his lips.
“You stalking me now, doll?”
You rolled your eyes before you heard someone jogging in your direction making both you and Bucky look up to who it was.
“Y/N?” Steve called, almost surprised to see you here. “I didn’t know you were on duty today.”
“Hey, Steve.” You greeted before standing up and letting him envelop you in a side hug.
“EMT reshuffled their schedules, so here I am.” You answered with a smile. “I’m glad that Monica and I got the call. At least now I can directly send these to Helen.”
You waved the clipboard in your hand before kneeling back down to put it back in your bag.
“I’m guessing you can stand up?” You asked Bucky, seeing that in the past he would protest and whine against being wheeled in a stretcher or wheelchair no matter how much persuasion.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He answered before Steve crouched down to his left and looped an arm around his friend’s torso, careful not to touch the tender spot on the right.
You did the same on the other side, careful that you don’t hit the alleged broken rib.
“Okay, one, two-” Steve counted before the both of you hoisted Bucky up and waited for him to adjust his footing.
Slowly walking to the ambulance, you managed to make him sit on the steps of the vehicle.
“So what’s the verdict, doc?” Steve asked as he sat beside his friend. Two pairs of blue eyes looked at you and waited for your answer.
“Bucky’s hunch might be right, one or two broken ribs on his right,” You started as you looked back down on the list on your clipboard.
“There also might be bruising on his right leg, I saw him react earlier.”
You looked at Bucky pointedly as if to tell him that you were eagle-eyed and he can’t hide anything from you.
“What did the cops say about the person driving the sedan?” You asked, tucking the clipboard under your armpit before getting the blood pressure monitor and latching it to Bucky’s arm.
You busied yourself in doing all the basic necessary checkups as you listened to Steve.
“The punk was high and drunk.” He answered with a click of his tongue, Bucky shaking his head too at the gathered information. “They don’t know how the guy drove for so long before finally hitting-” He gestured to Bucky.
“What’ll they do with him?” Bucky asked.
“Put him behind bars, that’s for sure; they said that they’ll also do an investigation on who sold it to him,” Steve informed.
“At least now he’s being dealt with, and hopefully he won’t lead the NYPD in another car chase.” You said before instructing Bucky to sit further on the step and excusing Steve off of his comfortable seat beside his friend to reach for the small oxygen tank and mask.
“Would you mind holding this for me?” You asked Steve as you handed him the small tank.
Fiddling with the equipment, you managed to turn it on and set it at the right amount.
“Here, put this on.” You carefully stretched the garter over Bucky’s head and placed the mask on his face, covering his nose and mouth.
“I already saw you were having difficulty breathing - this might help.”
“You can put it down now,” you told Steve nonchalantly before putting on your stethoscope and gesturing for Bucky to lean forward so you can reach his back.
“I have to check again so this may be a little bit cold.” You warned.
“I can handle it,” Bucky spoke before you lifted his shirt to listen, taking your time on each side to try and hear for anything that may result in further damage.
As you squinted your eyes in concentration, you stiffened at the sudden cool and warm hands on your hips. You tried to ignore it but the sudden feeling of thumbs running smooth comforting circles on your stomach made you draw back and stand with your own hands reaching for his and placing them on his lap.
“Oh, c’mon, Buck. Seriously?” Steve groaned. “I don’t take you for the PDA type.”
“Quit it, Bucky. I’m trying to listen.” You warned at the same time.
Bucky only rolled his eyes at both of your scoldings knowing that the two of you were not as serious before you went back to listening to his breathing.
After a few minutes, you removed your stethoscope and hung it around your neck before leaning to your right shoulder.
“Monica, it’s Y/N. I might need to bring the motorcyclist to Helen.” You radioed your partner. “Suspected broken rib, the patient is already having difficulty in breathing.”
“Copy, Y/N. I’m still assisting the family with our backup EMT. We’ll meet you back at the base.” The static voice of Monica was heard over the radio before you went ahead and called for Helen.
After arriving at the Tower where Dr. Cho instructed you to bring the injured Avenger, you and Steve managed to persuade - it was more of a threat, really - Bucky to be escorted in a wheelchair to Helen’s floor that contained the cradle - this way, he won’t exert much effort and tire himself out and lose oxygen.
As you waited for Steve to return with the wheelchair, you busied yourself by prepping your EMT bag to take with you before you heard Bucky clear his throat.
“What’s wrong?” Your instinct to check on your patient suddenly activated as you turned around from the inside of the ambulance and dropping everything on the makeshift table before you stepped out and stand in front of Bucky.
Scanning for any signs or sources for his discomfort from head to toe and finding none, you looked back up at him. “Do you feel any pain?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Y/N,” Bucky reassured, his eyes looking down on your hand.
There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.
“Married?”
“Yeah,” You replied, relieved that he wasn’t in pain before looking down on the gold band on your ring finger with a smile. “You?”
“Taken, as well.” He answered, looking down at his own golden band - a stark contrast on the darker vibranium color of his arm.
“Wife’s probably going to get mad when she finds out what happened.” He started.
“How come? Wouldn’t she be worried?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest, curious why the missus will be more mad than worried.
“She’ll be mad when she finds out I stained my shirt. You know, blood stains are hard to remove.” He answered, his lips pursed as if trying to hold back his laughter.
There was a quiet pause before a deafening smack echoed in the garage.
“You bet your ass I’m mad at you, Barnes!” You almost growled, not really caring at the moment that Bucky was your patient. “Just wait until my shift is over.”
“Ow!” He groaned and tried to soothe the already warm stinging pain radiating on his right arm with his left hand. “What was that for?”
“Do you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?” You were still not over at the sight you saw him in - seated on the curb looking defeated and in pain, the tears you were holding back almost an hour ago were starting to fill the rims of your eyes.
Gone was the hurt and annoyance that Bucky felt at the unexpected smack you gave him as his face softened at the sight of you, he could only offer you a reassuring smile before his hands reached for yours and pulled you to him.
Enveloping you in a tight hug, you tried to breathe in and normalize your heartbeat. You were sure that Bucky could hear it as his head was against your chest, your chin on top of his head.
“I hope what happened finally convinces you to never leave your helmet at home.” Your voice a little muffled as you spoke against his hair, you looked up trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill at the sudden imagination of what might have happened if he did forget his helmet at home.
“I promise-” he spoke as he pushed away from you to look you in the eye, “- I won’t leave it anymore.”
The contrast of hot and cold gave you a sense of comfort as he cupped your face in his hands before pulling you down to him, planting a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly placing a chaste kiss on your lips.
“Ah!” Bucky groaned again, pulling away from the sudden insult of a pinch to his left side.
“I’m still mad at you.” You glared before giving him another peck on the lips.
~
Did not expect it to be that long, tbh. Hope you liked it!
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes imagines#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#sebastian stan#sebastian stan imagines#tfatws#winter soldier#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier imagines#bucky barnes x reader#reader insert#sebastian stan imagine#bucky barnes x y/n#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#the falcon and the winter soldier bts#the falcon and the winter soldier
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