#Kettle that’s been left to boil too long
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text






Aemond Targaryen + Before You Snap by Yonderboi
#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#prince aemond#aemond one eye#if only my ass knew how to make edits or amvs#hopefully the vibe is communicated#Kettle that’s been left to boil too long#I have sympathy for him but also holy shit bro 😳#Rip Aemond Targaryen u would have loved kungfu panda an revenge of the sith
52 notes
·
View notes
Note
Just re-watched the prison Reid arc and whew! Can I request post prison Reid getting to meet his new baby for the first time with a civilian reader? Like he was arrested while reader was still pregnant and she gave birth right before he got out? Maybe have a Diana cameo cause I just love her🤭
ty for requesting! fem, 1.6k
“Do you want me to take him?”
You give Diana a grateful smile. “Is that okay?”
Diana is reedy like Spencer, tall and skinny, but strong, too. She treads the carpet in her moccasins and holds out her arms for the baby, shushing him softly as you pass him over. You’ve had to look after her these last few weeks in a way you weren’t prepared for, but she’s looked after you in turn.
She’s almost completely lucid today. The good news has its hooks in her.
You look out of the window again. The baby coughs in Diana’s arms, a clearing sound after feeding. If she’s gentle with him he’ll fall asleep before Spencer gets home. You aren’t sure what to do, let him sleep or wake him. What would Spencer want?
I want to come home, he’d said, choked up over the phone, so badly. I’m so sorry.
“Are you sure you won’t call him Walter?” Diana asks. “Spencer likes that one.”
“I’m sure, Diana. He liked Jasper, so…” You bite the tip of your tongue until it aches, refusing to cry again. “So I went with Jasper. I hope he doesn’t mind.”
That morning when Emily told you he was coming home, you cried like you’ve never, ever cried. So hard that the baby woke up in his cot across the room and cried with you.
You’d cried a lot after Spencer was arrested, and worse when he was imprisoned. You cried like a baby the day you went into labour because you knew you’d have to do it alone, when Spencer promised he’d be there with you, that you wouldn’t have to do any of the scary parts alone.
It didn’t take long to stop. You’d grabbed Jasper with your cheeks soaked in tears and rubbed his back, that small stretch of warmth under your hand like a lifeline. In a way, Jasper being Spencer’s has made this easier. You’ve had a part of him. It just wasn’t enough to get over missing him. Every bit of joy —you have a baby now, your beautiful boy— has been swiftly followed with an aching sort of grief. Spencer missed his first cry, first bath, the very first time he opened his eyes. You can’t go back.
“They said three.”
Diana doesn’t seem concerned. She’s missed Spencer as much as you have, and you know her worry for him has made her more poorly than she’d otherwise be most days, but the baby helps. “I’m gonna find his bear,” she says.
You bend down, trying to see the corner of the street through the window. Then you remember the last time you left her alone in the kitchen and flinch. “Hey, Diana?” you call.
She’s checking the drawers for the bear. You’re not sure why she thinks the bear would be there, but perhaps that’s where she put it. “Can I make you a cup of tea or something?” you ask her.
“You’re spying on me.”
“Spying implies you don’t know what I’m doing.”
She pats the baby’s back. “I can see why you and Spencer get along.”
It’s a little more than getting along.
She finds Jasper’s bear atop the bread bin, sitting at the kitchen table with him, the bear sat across from him, though Jasper’s already sleeping again.
You put the stovetop kettle on to boil and realise with a start that you can make Spencer a cup of tea at the same time. Your smile is unfailing, then. He really is coming home. The kettle begins whining while you recover his favourite mug from the cabinet, untouched the entire time he was gone.
“How many sugars today?” you ask.
“Was that the door?”
“What?” You’re putting the mug down before you can compute.
“Angel?”
You feel a rush of emotion all over at the sound of his voice. You try to call back to him, but you don’t manage anything more than a catching gasp as you push out of the kitchen and find him at the door. Right there at the end of the hall.
Pale, tall. Arms already opening, half a step as you run at him. He doesn’t complain when your chest knocks against his. He doesn’t say anything at all.
“Hi,” you breathe, pressing your nose to his shoulder. Your eyes stay open —it’s like panic without the fear. He’s really here in your arms.
He squeezes you tightly. So tight you can’t breathe for a second. Then he gentles, his hands rubbing up and down your back out of sync, face falling into yours.
In the kitchen, Jasper makes a croaky crying sound, a stirring Diana calms immediately.
You attempt to pull away. Spencer will want to see Jasper, of course. He hadn’t met his own son. It was all he could talk about for weeks before he went away, and yet—
Spencer just rubs your back. After another half a minute like that, he asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” You clear your throat.
“Yeah? No one would tell me anything specific, I was worried you might not be alright.”
“Everything went fine.” He holds you to his chest. He smells like cheap soap. “I didn’t– it was really okay. He was easy, like he knew I couldn’t handle any complications.”
“And he–?”
You recognise the undercurrent in his voice. It’s the same thing you felt when they put Jasper on your chest for the first time. “He’s perfect.”
“All ten fingers?”
You pull away. Immediately, Spencer’s taking your face into two hands, his eyes pouring into yours with an intensity that worries you. “He has all his fingers and toes,” you say quietly, “how about you? How’s your leg?”
He doesn’t seem to be able to answer. Jasper makes another noise and Diana’s chair creaks. You turn with Spencer’s hand on your side, watching as she brings Jasper to the door.
“Spencer,” Diane says, like she just saw him yesterday, “you’re late.”
“Sorry, mom.”
He always sounds younger when he talks to her.
“Will you take the baby? I was just making some tea,” she says.
Spencer nods but doesn’t move.
“I’ll take him.” You kiss Spencer on the cheek. Remember you haven’t for weeks and kiss him again. “It’s okay.”
You hold your arms out and take Jasper against your chest. Spencer takes a step forward, stops, hesitating, but when you turn to him with a comforting smile the band holding him back snaps. He crosses the room, breath pulled like he’d stopped as he cranes his head to see his baby.
“Three weeks old today,” you say softly, tipping Jasper back so Spencer can see his face. “He missed his daddy, you know.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Of course I can. I’m his mom, Spencer… And who wouldn’t miss you?”
Spencer shakes his head gently, reaching out to caress Jasper’s full cheek.
“Jasper,” Spencer says.
“He’s been a great baby so far. Doesn’t give me much trouble. He cries all night, of course… but all babies do. He goes down after a while. I’ve–” You swallow the heat of missing Spencer like a barb dragging against the inside of your throat. “Told him you’re coming home. I told him every day, I promise.”
“M’sorry,” he says, pained.
“I know, Spence.” You nudge him. “Time to hold him, honey.”
He’s more eager than you thought. It’s almost like he’s worried you won’t let him have the baby, but it’s like you told him on the phone: Spencer made a stupid mistake, and you still love him. He never should’ve been going back and forth like that, but you get why he did. Wouldn’t you want Jasper, one day, to care about you in the same way Spencer loves his mother? You forgave him the moment he apologised.
“It’s alright,” you say, slotting Jasper from your arms to his, guiding his hand behind Jasper’s delicate neck. “Just hold him. He missed you.”
Spencer sniffles. “I missed him too,” he says.
“I know.”
Diana realises eventually that Spencer being home is a big deal. It’s not her fault, not understanding, but the new baby, her relocation again, her nurse barely gone, and Spencer’s sudden homecoming, it’s probably too much to deal with. She finds you, Spencer, and Jasper on the couch in the living room and frowns at him heartily. “You won’t hug your own mother?” she asks.
“You’ll have to hug me around the baby,” he says, sorry.
She agrees to this without fuss. She caresses his cheek as he’d done for Jasper as she pulls away.
“Thank you for helping out, mom,” he says.
“It was all Y/N, Spencer. You know mothers. We’re strong.”
Spencer looks at Jasper, still sleeping, and then to you, a shade of adoring in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “I know,” he says.
You curl into his side and take a breath. For the first time in weeks, you let your body relax, finding it sorer and angrier than you’d left it the last time you had the chance to check in.
Spencer brings the side of your face to his lips to kiss your weary cheek.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
can we have like a pov of like what MOB would do if something did happen to simon..? luv you!
mail-order bride
your tea is cold when you pick it up to drink it. it burns you, how cold it is, and you cough a little as you set it down, grimacing as you wipe your lips.
maybe it's just one of those days. the rain is hitting a little too hard against the window. the cats have been restless. the dark one shredded your yoga mat by clawing at it under a doorway, and the orange tabby managed to knock over all of simon's plants from the windowsill (which you frantically put back inside their little pots--would plant murder be his last straw?). you left a red shirt in when you washed the whites (you apologized to all of simon's white tees), and when you noticed holes in your favorite sweats in a pattern that matched a cat's claws, you called it a day and decided to make tea (another fail).
you rub your pounding head, taking a deep breath, but you aren't given long to count down from five when your phone begins to ring.
you pick it up, not recognizing the number, but you put it to your ear as you get up to boil more water.
"hello?"
a throat clears on the other end. "do i have mrs. riley 'ere?"
you frown, leaning your hip against the kitchen counter as you turn a burner on and put the kettle over it.
"uhm...yeah. this is she," you say finally. you look at the clock; it's late, much too late. "who is this?"
"this is john. ah...captain john price, ma'am."
you clench your jaw, closing your eyes. "um...i'm sorry, i...what can i do for you? simon's not--"
"we had to call for medevac," john says lowly. "ahh...should be headin' into surgery soon. i--"
"wait--what?" you cough a little, shutting the stove off, and you're scrambling as you make your way to the bedroom. he's talking again, you realize, but you can't hear what he's saying. your eyes are moving around the room, and you frantically start to pull drawers open, grabbing a sweater, jeans, actual clothes to put on. you shed your pajamas, hopping as you slide your jeans on, and he's still talking, but you still hear nothing.
you run into the dresser, the furniture rattling, and you let the phone go, realizing you can't see because there's tears blurring your vision. you wipe them away, looking around for your purse, and when you realize what this is, an emergency--right?--you head for the bookcase in simon's study.
you toss a few books down onto the floor, your hands shaking as your fingers curl around the spine of a leather bible. you set the book down on simon's desk, flipping through the pages before you find your prized paper nestled between the pages of the book of john.
you head back to the bedroom, picking up the phone again, and you shakily dial the number that's on the back of the card. you take a seat on the bed (because where would you go anyways?), and you close your eyes as you wait for someone to pick up.
it rings for too long. you gasp a little, clutching the phone tight, and you beg for someone to pick up, please, please, please--
"'ello?"
"johnny--" you hiccup, standing up. "johnny, he...he told me--"
"wha--who--" on the other end, johnny shouts at someone to get a move on, "--bleedin' christ, who is this?"
"it's me," you whisper. "i'm...simon's--"
"ach...fuckin' hell..." there's a long, deep sigh on the other end. "oi, lass, listen, he's alright--"
"he's...b-but someone said surgery."
"right, i..." he sighs again, and you hear a door shut on the other end. "ye sit tight, luv. i'll come get ye, okay?"
you sniffle, wiping your face, "just tell me he's gonna be okay. tell me i'm worrying for nothing."
johnny chuckles a bit, and the sound soothes you just enough. "gonna be alright. lad's fuckin' dramatic, i'll tell ye tha', big brick fuckin' stepped in front of--"
"okay, johnny, please don't tell me how simon almost killed himself and get your ass over here, okay?" you snap, and johnny halts his laughing.
"right, yeah, forgive me." you hear the rattle of keys. "'m coming."
"mrs. riley?"
your head lifts up. you blink the sleep out of your eyes, rubbing them gently, and there's a petite woman in scrubs smiling at you with her mask hanging around her neck. you have two sergeants at either side of you, captain price settled leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. you have a blanket around your shoulders, and when you slip it off, johnny takes it from you gently.
"you can see him now."
you get to your feet, and when you pass simon's captain, he tips his hat at you respectfully. you hurry and follow the doctor down the hall, and when you see simon's name scribbled on a makeshift sigh on the wall, you eagerly pick up the pace until the door is opened for you.
he looks peaceful laying there. the monitors beep quietly around him, little wires and tubes falling around him, and you let out a breath when you see him blink those dark eyes awake blearily.
"tha' an angel?"
you start to cry. "you're such an asshole."
you come close to the side of the bed, taking his outstretched hand, and you clutch his big hand to your chest. you curl his hand into a fist, pressing your face against the back of his hand, kissing his knuckles there gently. he uncurls his fingers and wipes at your tears gently, shaking his head.
"gave ya a right scare, didn't i?"
"yes, you dickhead," you sniffle, and simon chuckles lowly, wincing a little as he clutches his lower stomach. you use your foot to bring the chair behind you closer, taking a seat in it as you look up at him. he turns his head to face you, giving you a pained smile, and you let out the breath you've been holding since johnny came to get you. "what's the matter with you, simon?"
"shit happens."
you try not to roll your eyes, but the anger is not lost on simon. he squeezes your hand gently, his eyes flicking up to the clock, and he grimaces when he realizes it's nearly six in the morning. you must have been here all night, waiting for him.
"is this how it's gonna be?" you ask in a whisper. when he meets your eyes again, it's more difficult this time. what you're asking isn't predictable. it isn't a straight answer. and if he gives you anything that isn't the truth, it feels like a lie, and he can't do that to you. "w-waking up in the middle of the night? hoping that the call isn't...that...hoping that--"
"not that simple," simon interrupts gently.
"well, make it simple, simon," you say firmly. even through your tears, your voice doesn't shake this time. "make it very simple for me, then."
simon purses his lips, and for the first time since you've met your husband, he hesitates. he doesn't have an answer, at least a good one.
"don't wanna lie to ya, swee'eart," simon murmurs, and you stare right back at him.
"then don't."
he sucks on his teeth, looking away, and you tug on his hand, pulling his eyes back to you.
"look at me, simon," you say, and he looks sad. he's going to tell you something that you won't want to hear. he's going to tell you something that's been the truth since he enlisted, a reality that never bothered him until he realized he had a responsibility to keep a roof over your head. there's someone waiting inside of his house. there's a place that's waiting for him on one side of the bed he shares with you. there's someone else's shoes always next to his, and someone else's name that will always be beside his own.
family.
he has a family.
"i'll try and keep ya outta here," is all simon murmurs. you smile at that. it's a promise, but he won't lie to you. always honest, your husband. he tells you things as they are. he doesn't pretend. everything with simon is the truth as he presents it, and it's eerily comforting, even if the truth isn't one that you like.
"i love you, simon," you whisper, and when you touch his face finally, the sting of the gold of your wedding is a welcome distraction.
he vows to make this the last time you see him this way. nothing is worth seeing that face of yours like this--tired, disheveled, the angry crease in your brow. you're not meant for these things. for the waiting, the crying, the worry, it's not a life he meant to give you.
for a moment, he wonders if you'd ever ask him.
will you hang it up for me? will you leave for me?
the most terrifying part, he realizes, is that he isn't sure of what his answer would be. and he isn't sure of what you would do if he told you no.
#oof angst#it betrays me#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#order up
2K notes
·
View notes
Text

No, you’re not
Summary: You and Lando have been inseparable since childhood, both secretly in love with each other but too afraid to confess—he believes you deserve better than him, and you think his flings mean he could never see you that way, leaving your feelings tangled in unspoken fears of ruining your lifelong friendship.
Genre: angst, fluff
TW: None!
A/N: wow this is a long request! Thank you!! I really hope it’s like how you wanted it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!
Based of this request
Masterlist

The Brazil Grand Prix had always been one of Lando’s toughest races. The circuit wasn’t just a test of his skill; it was a mental and physical marathon. This year was no different. After a grueling 71 laps that left him finishing far from where he wanted to be, he was wrung out, mentally frayed, and questioning every decision he’d made during the weekend. The lack of sleep afterward didn’t help, and by the time he boarded the flight back to Monaco, he was barely holding himself together.
All he wanted was to get home and shut the world out. No cameras, no engineers pointing out his mistakes, no fans bombarding him with well-meaning but exhausting messages. Just silence.
Except, as soon as he opened his front door, he realized he wasn’t going to be alone.
The lights in the living room were dim, but the faint glow of the TV illuminated the familiar figure curled up on his couch. You.
Lando’s heart squeezed at the sight of you, a feeling so achingly familiar it was almost painful. You were his best friend—the one constant in his life, the one person who saw him as just Lando, not a Formula 1 driver, not a public figure, just the boy you’d grown up with.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You were his best friend. The girl he’d been in love with since he was sixteen. The girl who deserved better than someone like him.
You looked up when the door clicked shut, your eyes immediately finding his in the dim light. “Finally,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. “I was starting to think you’d sleep at the airport.”
Lando let out a breathless laugh, dropping his bag by the door. “Not sure I’d get much sleep there either.” He leaned against the wall, exhaustion radiating off him in waves. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” you said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I figured you’d be in a mood, so I let myself in.” You gestured to the half-empty bowl of soup on the coffee table. “I also raided your fridge. You really need to go grocery shopping.”
Lando shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “How’d you even get here?”
“I have a key, remember?” you said with a smirk. “And I used that thing called a car. Revolutionary, really.”
He rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest spread. You were always like this—casual, unbothered, always knowing exactly what he needed before he even realized it himself.
You stood and crossed the room, your smile fading as you got a closer look at him. “You look terrible,” you said, your voice dropping into that soft, concerned tone that always made his chest tighten.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“I mean it,” you said, tugging gently on the sleeve of his hoodie as if inspecting him. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“That’s because I haven’t,” he admitted.
You frowned, your eyes narrowing. “Lando...”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though the hoarseness of his voice betrayed him.
“No, you’re not.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the couch. He let you, too tired to argue. “Sit. You need to eat something, drink something, and then sleep for about a year.”
He dropped onto the couch with a groan, sinking into the cushions. You draped a blanket over him before disappearing into the kitchen. He could hear you rummaging around, the sound of a kettle boiling, the clink of a spoon against a mug.
When you returned, you handed him a steaming cup of tea. “Drink,” you ordered, sitting beside him.
He took the cup and cradled it in his hands, the warmth seeping into his skin. He stared at the liquid for a moment before taking a small sip. It burned his tongue, but he didn’t care.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, not meeting your eyes.
“Do what?”
“Take care of me.”
You snorted. “Someone has to. God knows you’re useless at it.”
He looked up at you then, and the small smile on your face made his chest ache. “I mean it,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t have to... be here. I’ll be fine.”
You frowned, your brow furrowing in that way it always did when you were worried about him. “Of course I do,” you said softly. “You’re my best friend, Lando. Where else would I be?”
That was the problem, wasn’t it? You were always there. Always caring, always looking out for him, always steady and dependable. And he was... what? A mess. A guy who jumped from fling to fling, trying—and failing—to get you out of his head.
He knew what you thought of him. You’d never said it outright, but he could see it in the way you’d roll your eyes whenever you saw another headline about him with some random girl. You thought he wasn’t serious. That he couldn’t be serious. And maybe you were right. Maybe he wasn’t capable of being the kind of man you deserved.
“How was the race?” you asked, breaking the silence.
“Bad,” he said simply.
“You want to talk about it?”
He shook his head, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Not really.”
You nodded, not pushing him. Instead, you shifted closer, your shoulder brushing against his. He felt your warmth seep into him, and for a moment, he let himself relax.
“Did you eat?” you asked after a while.
“Not really.”
You sighed and stood. “Stay here. I’ll heat up the rest of the soup.”
He watched as you disappeared into the kitchen, his chest tightening with every step you took. You were too good to him. Too good for him.
By the time you came back, holding a bowl of steaming soup, he’d convinced himself to push his feelings down again, to keep them buried where they couldn’t hurt you.
“Here,” you said, handing him the bowl. “Eat.”
He took the bowl and set it on his lap, picking up the spoon. “Thanks.”
You sat beside him again, watching as he ate in silence.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.
“I’m not babysitting you,” you said with a shrug. “I’m being a good friend.”
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re too good at it.”
You smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The only sounds were the clink of his spoon against the bowl and the faint hum of the TV.
“Lando,” you said softly, breaking the silence.
He looked up at you, his heart skipping a beat at the way you were looking at him—like you could see right through him.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said. “Whatever’s going on in your head... you don’t have to carry it by yourself.”
His throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. You always knew exactly what to say, exactly how to pull him back from the edge.
“I know,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks.”
You nodded, your eyes never leaving his.
And in that moment, he realized that no matter how much he tried to push you away, no matter how much he convinced himself that he didn’t deserve you, you would always be there.
And that terrified him more than anything.

Thank you for reading!
229 notes
·
View notes
Note
I have a possible blurb request for mary earps please??
r still lives in england and mary’s over with psg. mary comes back from paris for international duty and finally gets to see r again.
maybe mary surprises r by coming back a day early and comes home to see r in mary’s psg shirt
-
The flat is too quiet, but you’ve learned to live with that. Mary’s voice used to echo through the place—she’s not exactly subtle when she’s home—but with her in Paris, it’s been quieter. Not lonely, exactly. Just… quieter.
Now, the only noise comes from the hum of the kettle and the faint tinny sound of some reality TV rerun you’ve half-watched four times already. You’re standing in the kitchen, her oversized PSG shirt hanging off you, half-distracted as you wait for the water to boil. It’s the away kit—black and gold—soft from too many washes. She left it behind, and you’ve convinced yourself she wouldn’t mind.
The kettle clicks off. You pour the water over a tea bag, take a sip too soon, and immediately regret your life choices.
It’s fine. It’s all fine. You’ve survived this long-distance thing so far, even if it’s been weeks since you’ve had so much as a proper hug. Mary texts, she calls, she sends voice notes when she’s bored on team buses, but it’s not the same. You keep busy—work, friends, this new phase of your life where you apparently cosplay as a PSG superfan when no one’s looking.
Then there’s a sound. A faint jingle of keys.
You freeze.
No one else has keys.
“Don’t freak out,” comes a voice from the door. Familiar. Dry. A little smug.
Your tea sloshes onto the counter as you whip around, heart hammering.
Mary’s standing there, suitcase at her feet, coat hanging off one shoulder like she’s just walked out of a bloody rom-com. Except this is your kitchen, and rom-com Mary probably wouldn’t be grinning so much at the sight of you in her shirt.
“You’re back,” you say, because your brain is apparently still catching up.
“Early,” she clarifies, stepping inside. She looks far too pleased with herself, green eyes glittering as she takes you in. “Nice shirt, by the way”
You look down like you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing. “Oh, this old thing? Found it lying around”
“Hmm. Looks better on you, honestly.” She sets her suitcase aside and crosses the room in two strides, pulling you into her arms before you can think of a reply.
The hug is as good as you remembered. Maybe better. Her warmth seeps into you, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her—something clean, fresh, with an undertone of cheap hotel shampoo.
“God, I missed you,” she mutters against your hair.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming back early”
“Yeah, well.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist. “I thought a surprise might be fun. Looks like I was right”
You laugh softly, looping your arms around her neck. “You were right. For a change”
She tilts her head, grinning. “This time? How often am I wrong?”
You don’t answer, just kiss her instead. It’s been too long, and judging by the way she immediately tightens her grip on you, she feels the same.
When you finally pull away, you’re both a little breathless.
“So,” she says, voice lighter now, “are you going to keep that shirt on, or do I get my wardrobe back?”
You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m giving it back?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, her grin turning cheeky as she leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your heart stutter. “I might have a few ideas to convince you”
Your tea goes cold on the counter, but you don’t really care.
193 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi!!! i love all ur marauders works they’re seriously so cute and i love how you write them!! idk if you’ve done this one already and if you have just ignore this lol but could you do remus having a nightmare and reader comforting him? ik you’ve done the reverse but i wanna know what he’s like lmao. i need to see more confer remus i can’t get enough
Thank you lovely <3
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
It’s already graying outside the window when you wake. Remus has been having some agitated nights lately, and the dim lighting of the bedroom lets you see that this has been another one.
You’ve probably woken from the cold, all your sheets and blankets kicked mercilessly to the end of the bed. Remus’ face is twisted up tight, his hands twitching like they’re trying to grab for something, and he’s making soft, distressed little sounds that threaten to crack your heart clean in two. You hate to think how long he’s been like this without you waking.
“Rem,” you start soft, reaching for his hand as you’ve learned to do. Touch his shoulder or any other part of him and he’s likely to wake jolting, your offending hand gripped cruelly by the wrist. Once, before you’d learned your lesson, he’d kicked himself fully out of bed from the start you gave him. You’d sat in the living room with a hot pack on his tailbone, murmuring apologies back and forth until the sun came up.
You needle your fingers underneath his gently. “Remus, honey, you’re okay. You’re home.” His fingers twitch closer around yours, and you’re careful not to grab him back even though you want to, running the pads of your fingers down the length of his to loosen them. “You’re safe. You’re at home.” His eyes start to move faster behind his lids. “Rem.”
That last whisper does it. He doesn’t startle, which is always a victory, but Remus still inhales sharply as he wakes. His muscles seize as though they mean to propel him somewhere, then relax shudderingly.
You entwine your fingers with his, stay quiet. You know he knows you’re here but he won’t look at you just yet, hiding away the most frantic parts of himself before he’ll let himself turn towards you. You don’t love that he does it. You know better than to push him, though. It unnerves him worse when you try to jimmy your way into his thoughts while he’s still raw like this.
“Sorry,” he says on an exhale.
“Don’t be.” You start to stroke up his wrist, but Remus pulls his hand from yours, slipping out of bed and walking from the room.
You tail him. This is part of your routine, too. You think he likes to give you the option of going back to sleep, though you can’t imagine he’d actually feel any better if you did. He’s fooling himself. (It’s okay; you’re a fool for him sometimes, too.)
Remus isn’t surprised when you wrap your arms around his middle in the kitchen, resting your cheek against his back. He’s already got the kettle going.
“How are you?” you ask, though you think you have some idea. He’s still trembling gently under your hands.
“Alright.” He sets one hand over your two clasped around his front. “You should go back to sleep.”
You almost smile at his predictability. Remus isn’t usually so stiff around you, but even he has admitted he reverts back to a younger, terser self when he’s feeling vulnerable. You could tell him that you’d have been waking up soon anyway, or that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew you’d left him like this, but you go with the truth that you know you’d want to hear.
“I want to be with you,” you say simply.
Remus turns in your arms, resting his lips on top of your head. “Thanks, dove.”
You hum like For what? and step around him as the kettle finishes boiling, grabbing his favorite mug from the cabinet above. Remus lets you take care of him this little bit, but he doesn’t go to sit down in the living room until you’re headed that way too.
You curl up against him on the couch, your knees tipped over his thighs while his legs bridge the gap between the sofa and the coffee table. He blows the steam off his mug.
“Do you remember what the dream was about?”
“Bits and pieces.” Remus’ voice is still a bit raspy with sleep, and you know exactly what he’s thinking when his lips twitch: you’ve told him more than a few times how attractive you find it like this. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about.”
“Okay,” you say. You’re both speaking softly, like the house itself is still slumbering as morning creeps up on the outside world. After Remus’ nightmare, you imagine he appreciates the peace anyway.
He sighs, looking at you almost sheepishly. “Sorry I’ve been waking you so much lately.”
“Sorry you’ve been sleeping so horribly lately,” you counter.
Remus smiles ruefully. “I think it’s all this stuff going on at work. Rude of it to fuck with me even when I’m sleeping, though.”
You hum, tracing a scar near his elbow with your finger. “I didn’t realize you were so stressed. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve hardly realized it myself,” he admits.
You frown, and Remus looks back into his mug, shying from your scrutiny. “Do you think it might help if we relaxed a bit more here?” you ask him. “We could start reading that book together again.”
His eyes are soft when they meet yours, the color of honey and just as sweet. “That sounds really nice,” he says.
You smile. It feels good to have a plan. “Hug?” you ask him.
Remus sets down his tea to make room for you, and you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands spread out on your back, tentative at first and then firmer as you snuggle up to him.
“I’ll make cheese toasties and soup tonight,” you say softly. Remus sounds almost like he could purr as you start playing with the hair at his nape. He gives your hips a little tug, getting you closer. “And we can read or watch something or do a puzzle, whatever you feel like when you get home. We could talk about the work stuff, if you wanted to.” You say this last part hesitantly, but Remus hums his approval.
“You’re so good to me, do you know that?”
You grin. “I do my best.”
He huffs a laugh, the sound gruff and heart-squeezing. You lapse into a thin silence, each listening to the other breathe but feeling the beginning of the new day pressing at your windows.
“We have some time before we’d normally start to get ready,” you try. “Want to stay like this for a bit?”
“Yeah,” Remus sighs, settling his arms around you more securely. “Yeah, good idea.”
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one shot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#the marauders#marauders fandom#marauders era#hp marauders#marauders x reader
514 notes
·
View notes
Text
narc
actor!eren x reader
**part of my method acting series
--
When you open the cabinet and pull out the box of chamomile tea, there’s a note with Eren’s distinct handwriting scribbled across it.
Boil the water for six minutes. Add one teaspoon of the dried flowers. Let it sit for five minutes and then strain them out. I usually add half a teaspoon of honey to sweeten it up for you :)
You can’t help but look up at the frame on the left – a picture of you, Marco, Maya, and Eren – with the godawful cake he got you guys last year.
Happy New Year Birthday Anniversary 4
It seemed that too many big things coincided on the first day of the year. Marco and Maya’s birthday, you and Eren’s anniversary, the start of the new year – so much so that Eren decided that they all deserved one big cake together.
You rub at your tired eyes, lazily smiling at the post-it as you pull it off the top of the box, and stick it back onto the counter. It’s a quiet solace, seeing his handwriting every time you pull the box out and you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.
You think it’s a little silly that at your very big age, Eren left you instructions on how to make tea. Sometimes it just makes you miss him more.
You follow Eren’s quick instructions – his recent absence making you realize just how much it is that he does around the house – and open up your phone to see his location.
He’s gone, still two thousand something miles away in California, at the hospital. You count the hours backwards, realizing that it’s probably midnight his time so he must be fast asleep and decide against calling him.
You lean against the counter, your neck still slick from the cold sweat you woke up in, as you recount flashes of the dream you’ve been having for the past three nights.
The dark freeway, a long white truck, and a blaring horn.
The kettle clicks shut and you pour the water into the cup, watching the dried flowers seep a golden color to the liquid as you let it sit underneath the coaster. It must have been the pouring of the water, because you entirely miss the pitter patter of tiny footsteps – meaning, it catches you completely off guard when Marco’s wrapping his arm around your leg.
“Can I have some?”
You almost drop the kettle, your heart immediately racing from the shock of his presence, as you set it down, taking the few seconds to catch your breath.
“Sorry. Did I scare you again, Mom?” he asks.
You sigh, reaching down to lift him up onto the counter.
“No, Marco. I was just distracted, honey, that’s all.” you respond.
Marco gives you a distracted nod, messy brown hair and dull green eyes looking down at your cup, as he fiddles with his hands in his lap. Just like Eren. You reach forward, brushing through the tangles in his hair as you eye the clock.
“What are you doing up?”
“I thought you were Dad.” he responds.
You sigh, giving him a joking glare, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, little man.”
Marco gives you a smile, as you reach for the closest cabinet, and pull out the plastic glasses to pour some milk into. You set it to warm on the kettle, as you pour the honey into your cup, and swirl the spoon around.
“Do you know when he’ll be back? Dad?” Marco asks.
You pause.
No. You don’t.
“It’ll be soon, I’m sure of it. He’s just waiting to make sure that Uncle Connie’s perfectly set up before he comes back.”
That was a half lie. Though, you found that you had to do that often – lie about things that were too difficult to explain to the two of them.
Things that were too complicated, and more often than not, things you just wanted to protect them from.
That they were just too little to know about.
Marco and Maya asked you how their namesake, the real Marco died. It was easier to tell them that it was just a car accident, not intentional in how it occurred. They asked you why Eren had a bunch of faded lines on his back when you went swimming in the pool; it was just simpler to tell them that it was a birthmark.
They asked who Teddy’s real father was and told him that it was Sukuna. Though that one wasn’t entirely a lie. But you know what they were trying to ask.
And just two days ago, Maya asked you if her Uncle Connie was going to die. You told her that he was just getting a checkup, but that was the farthest thing from the truth.
Years after the fact, it seemed that the poison that Connie was putting into his body had finally caught up to him – with not only one, but two defective kidneys. And after three years on the waiting list, by some horrible twist of fate for someone else but luck for all of you, Connie was finally getting his transplant.
That was almost three weeks ago. He’s still recovering from the surgery – having taken a whole week to wake up, another one to sit up, and now trying to walk the corridor at the ward he was in.
You had to let Eren go. You knew that he was going to be apart from you and the kids at some point and figured that this was the best time to get over that fear of being away from him, in the soft little bubble you’ve created for yourself.
You shake the thought from your head – of Connie sitting there, frail and alone the last time you talked to him, since visiting hours were well over – and pour the milk into the cup. You hand it over to Marco, placing the cup securely in his hands, as you try to quiet the thoughts racing through your mind.
Five things you can see. Four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can feel.
Eren had whispered it to you when you dropped him off at the airport, a quiet thing he did to manage his own stress.
“What are you thinking about?” Marco asks.
You sigh, turning over to him, and giving him a smile.
“Five things I can see.” you respond.
Marco was well aware of the habit. He tended to be a little more sensitive which was worrying at first – but Zeke said that it was just something that he got from Eren. That he acted exactly like he did when he was a kid.
“I can see you. And me. The cups. And two lightbulbs.” Marco responds.
You smile.
“I can touch the floor with my feet. And the back of the counter with my back. The cup with my hands. And your cheek with my fingers.” you respond, reaching forward to poke at the softness of his cheek.
Marco returns the favor, giggling under his breath as he reaches forward, tiny fingers squishing at your skin. He absentmindedly leans forward, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, before he continues.
He was every bit as affectionate as Eren.
“I can hear you. And me. And Maya sleeping.”
“You can’t hear Maya sleeping from here, Marco.”
“Yeah, I can. She’s all snotty at night.”
“Honey, those are her allergies. She can’t control that.” you respond.
If Marco acted like Eren did as a kid, then Maya was every bit a carbon copy of you. It was something that Falco and Colt parroted constantly – the biggest fans of all her little at home concerts, her fashion shows, and most of all, her singing.
It seems that she got the seasonal allergies too.
“I can smell your drink and my drink.” you respond, as you down the very last bit of your cup.
Marco seems to follow suit, draining the last of the milk from the cup before he leans forward, short arms barely wrapping around your neck as you scoop him up into your arms. The time must have caught up to him, eyes quickly lidding shut, as you switch off the lights, and lead him back to his room.
He whispers one last thing before you tuck him into bed.
“I can feel you here with me.”
It’s enough to put your mind at rest to go to sleep.
--
The doorbell rings early the next morning – at seven on the dot – and sends Marco and Maya tumbling down the stairs, their little footsteps thundering as you open up the door to Lana, Sukuna, Teddy, and Grace.
You turn your head over your shoulder, watching as Marco and Maya’s faces drop at the sight of them, and subsequently watch them drag themselves over to the dining table.
“Is that anyway to say hello?” Sukuna asks, chest puffed up from the clear dismissal from the both of them – which albeit, is a rare occurrence.
Sukuna marches straight through the doorway, Lana giving you a warning glance, as you watch him hunch over the chairs – his head hanging in between Marco and Maya’s – as he gives the two of them a little glare.
“Angie. Are you not excited to see me?”
Angie. Sukuna’s special nickname for Maya.
“I thought you were Eren.” Maya responds.
“I wish he was.” Gracie mumbles, earning her a glare from Sukuna.
It worked out well enough. Eren was Gracie’s favorite, but Sukuna was Maya’s. Naturally it irritated the both of them well enough.
You sigh, opening your arms up to the hug that Teddy’s offering you – which Grace piles on to – as you shoot her a warning glance.
“Maya. You’re supposed to call him Dad.” you chide.
“But you call him Eren.” she retorts back.
“Yeah. Because he’s not my dad. He’s just Eren to me.” you respond.
That earns you a laugh from Teddy, as he lets go and starts passing out the plates, with Lana helping you finish making the breakfast from the kitchen.
“How are you holding up?” she asks.
“Yeah, yeah. Same old. Did you talk to Connie at all today?”
You watch as Lana frowns, which sends an immediate pang to your chest.
Eren’s contingency plan on leaving you alone – since the three of you couldn’t possibly go with him – was making sure that you were taken care of. Which included him sending Lana and Sukuna over everyday for breakfast, just so you didn’t feel lonely.
You guys tended to get fickle with how often you’d eat breakfast together – aiming for at least once a week – but you know Eren must have said something because they were here almost every other day.
“Think he’s doing better.” Lana responds.
You sigh.
“Did you talk to Eren?”
“Yeah.”
Eren doesn’t seem like he’s fairing well either. But you figured as much – that it would be hard for him to see Connie in this condition, because the smallest voice in his head told him that it was all his fault.
“I feel like he’s scared to let him go. He’s…he’s scared he’s going to die while he’s not looking.” you add.
Lana nods.
“He could have come back a week ago. Maryam was fine handling it but I just think he…but you know how he is with Connie. They’re like brothers.”
You hum in response. Lana leans forward, resting her head against your shoulder, as you lean into the touch.
“You’re better than me. I feel like I’d be ten different levels of crazy if Sukuna and Teddy weren’t telling me not to worry about him.” Lana responds.
You shrug.
“It’s fine for the most part. Marco and Maya keep me busy. Levi calls me everyday just to update me on his lawn mowing, which takes like four hours alone. It’s all fine, I just…keep having this really weird dream.”
“Really?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t really remember the details. All I know is that…that I’m driving a car. There’s a honking sound and then a big truck that cuts me off and makes me crash. But for some reason, I feel like…I feel like I know the person driving the truck. Like they’re…they’re making fun of me or laughing or something.”
You watch as Lana squints her eyes at you, her touch suddenly stiff, as you give her a look.
“What?”
“Nothing. That is weird. But it’s just a dream.” Lana responds.
“I mean, I know. But I just…I don’t get dreams. Let alone recurring ones. I feel like I know the person or…or something about it just feels really familiar that’s all. I wake up every night just thinking about it, trying to remember what it is that I saw.”
Lana picks up the spoon, plating the last of the eggs into the dish, as she gives you a wary look over her shoulder.
“Stress manifests in different ways. I think this Connie thing is just stressful. Being without Eren with the kids is stressful. I don’t think it means anything.” she adds.
Lana leans forward, pressing a kiss against your cheek, before lifting the plates, gesturing for you to follow as you take them over to the table. You take your seat next to Sukuna – who’s clearly won over Maya in the past few minutes that you were gone – as you sit next to Grace.
“I like the ribbon, Gracie.”
“I’m glad you said that. I made one for you too.”
Lana taught Gracie how to sow, meaning that every time she came over, she left a few more ribbons for your collection. You rarely wore them anymore, but it was nice to keep all the gifts Gracie made for you – pink lace, little charms in the fabric.
There’s immediate chatter the second everyone’s hands start moving – Sukuna and Maya whispering under their breaths, Teddy, Lana, and Marco talking about the recent soccer game – and the only thing you can think about is how the chair next to you is empty.
That Eren would have been here asking Teddy about when his spelling bee is so he could go. And that he’d cut Maya’s fruits into stars with Sukuna just because she likes them that way.
“Do you miss Eren?”
You lean forward, placing your hand on Grace’s shoulder, as you give her a smile.
“Just a little, Gracie. But that’s normal.” you respond.
“He’ll be back soon enough. And Falco and Gabi should be back next week, so…we’ll have more people at breakfast. We’ll have to start ordering chairs for how many of us there are.”
You laugh.
“That’s a good problem to have.”
You can’t help but think that three blocks down, only a few years prior, Eren, Lana, and Teddy used to eat breakfast together every morning, because that’s all they had. And now you barely had enough seats to fill the table.
You think about how it would kill you if Connie never came back to eat breakfast with you guys.
“Y/N. Can you help me practice for the spelling bee tomorrow?” Teddy asks.
You smile.
“Of course, Teddy Bear.”
Teddy curls his nose in disgust.
“Y/N. Don’t call me that. It’s not cool.” he murmurs.
The older Teddy gets, the more he seems to curl his nose at all of the sweet nicknames you all have for him. He barely lets Eren hug him anymore, instead trying to make weird over complicated handshakes – that Eren can obviously never remember.
Your phone buzzes on the table to four texts from Eren.
[eren]: connie made a very obscure pop culture reference today that honestly kind of freaked out his VERY old nurse
[eren]: it was giving ** erwin **
[eren]: the world is healing
[eren]: i miss you!
--
You appreciate the routine of things. That every night, you comb through Maya and Marco’s wet hair, that you all brush your teeth together, and that you all read a story together before you go to sleep.
“I have a question.”
You close the little book – an old version of Goodnight Moon that Jean and Mikasa gifted you when Marco and Maya were born – and slide it into the shelf.
“Do share, Miss Maya.” you respond.
That’s what Eren always calls her. Miss Maya.
“How did you spend so much time away from Eren?” Maya asks.
“Maya.” you berate.
“Sorry. Dad. How did you spend so much time away from Dad? Like before when you were little?” she asks.
You pause.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s only been a few weeks and…and I miss him.” Maya mumbles, the tiniest crack in her voice.
You can feel your chest ache as you lean forward, wrapping your arms around her little body as she leans up, her salty tears spilling straight onto your neck.
“Oh, Maya.” you coo.
“I know he’s gone for a good reason and I’m not mad at him. I’m sad about Uncle Connie too but I just wish he was here. And Uncle Connie was too.” she responds, voice muffled by how she’s burying her face into your shirt.
It’s not even a few seconds before you hear another set of sniffling, only to find Marco getting out of his bed and clinging to your side too.
You can’t help it – you can’t help that there’s warm tears in your eyes too as you rest your head against their freshly shampooed hair, and hold them tight.
You sit there quietly for some time – Marco and Maya’s tears subsiding long before yours – but they make no inclination of letting go. You appreciate that. And it’s not long before they fall asleep, before you tuck them into their sheets, and wipe your own tears before going to bed.
The pictures of Connie on the wall feel like they’re mocking you.
And like clockwork, it happens again.
A cold sweat down your back – because the truck almost hits you, because you swear you can hear laughing, and a clicking sound that you can’t really place. You’re barely asleep for two hours.
You make a mental note. That the clicking sound is new, but you still can’t really remember much besides that. Only that it’s really dark.
When you make it down to the kitchen, you find Marco hunched over, with Maya on his back. You can’t help but laugh – only because this reminds you of Colt – and watch them for a second before interrupting.
“Push higher.”
“I’m trying to, you’re too heavy, Maya.”
“I can’t reach the cups from here.”
“Okay, okay. I’m trying. That’s easy to say from down there.”
You flick the last of the lights open – the ones they can’t reach – as they both turn around, Maya nearly toppling off his back – as you put your hands on your hips.
“You want my help?”
“Please.” Maya groans.
Maya rubs the sore spot on her back, giving you a quiet nod as Marco moves over, and you reach for the cups. The two of them drain their cups of milk the second you fill them – clearly overexerted from the rhythmic gymnastics they were attempting a few minutes ago – as you nurse the cup of chamomile in your hand.
“You know, this is way better when Eren makes it.” Maya states.
You roll your eyes.
“Dad.”
“It’s too bitter when you do it.”
You shake your head at Maya, reaching forward to pinch her cheek before responding.
“My apologies, Miss Maya. I’ll call him tomorrow and ask him what he puts in yours. Knowing him, he does something different for each of us to make sure that we like it.” you respond.
So quick to accommodate, an endless amount of space in his mind to remember everything – Maya wears ribbons on Thursdays, she doesn’t like the purple ones. Marco likes to read Goodnight Moon in the winter, not the summer, because the bunny reminds him of snow.
The light in the doorway flicks on, accompanied by a very tired looking Eren, who gives you a very weak smile through the dim light.
“I put honey in Maya’s because she thinks it’s bitter, sweetheart. Only half a teaspoon, because then she gets kind of antsy.” Eren mumbles.
You turn to your left and watch as Maya and Marco both try to tumble off the counter, excited giggles as they run over to Eren, clinging on to the fabric of his shirt as they basically scream in his ear.
You can feel warm tears burning in the back of your eyes as Eren leans down, arms wrapped around the two of them, as he seems to breathe a sigh of relief – nestling his head in between the two of theirs.
You’re almost positive that he missed them more than they missed him.
Which was saying something.
“Hi M&M.” Eren mumbles.
Their favorite candy. For obvious reasons.
“You too, sweetheart. Come here.” Maya adds, extending out one of her hands to you.
You swallow down the burning feeling in your throat, taking one last look up to dry your tears, before crouching down on the ground with them, Eren’s hand being the one that wraps around you first.
“Maya. It’s Mommy. Not sweetheart.” Eren chides.
You can’t help but laugh – remembering that it was only a few months ago that Maya realized that your name wasn’t actually sweetheart, that it was just a nickname that Eren used for you – as you lean your temple against his.
“Okay, it’s really late. Dad’s going to tuck you into bed, okay?” you respond.
Marco and Maya give you an affirmative nod, as Eren scoops both of them up into an arm each – something you’re too weak to do at this point – as you watch them all trail down the hallway.
“Did you miss me?” Eren asks.
“So much. We even cried about it earlier!” Marco responds.
Eren immediately frowns as he kicks his shoes off at the door, quietly padding into the darkness of their room. Lana’s phone call was very brief – only warning him about the weird dreams you were having – but he didn’t realize that they were feeling it too.
Eren sets them both down, reaching for Maya first as he tucks the sheets in around her.
“Buddy, what do you mean by that? You cried about it earlier?” Eren asks, glancing over his shoulder.
“We all miss you so much we cried. Even sweetheart.” Maya responds.
Eren doesn’t take the time to correct her. He reaches down, pressing a kiss to Maya’s forehead, before brushing through the flyaways around her head.
“She did?”
“Mhm. Longer than me and Marco too. I heard Auntie Lana say it’s because she’s having weird dreams about Marco. You know, the other Marco. The one who died.”
Eren nods. It’s the only reason that he was able to bring himself home and leave Connie. Only because he didn’t realize how fast time had passed.
“I know the one.”
“She’s okay though. She told me herself.” Maya adds.
Eren sighs.
“I know she is.”
Eren switches over to Marco’s side which makes his chest pang a little bit more – the seeping ache of being gone for so long, to be at his side – making his throat burn.
“Everything good, Marco?”
It’s at that second that Marco jumps out of his sheets, little arms wrapped around his neck, as Eren sinks against his shoulder.
“Is Uncle Connie okay?”
Eren smiles.
“He went home last night, Marco. He’s going to be just fine.” Eren responds.
Marco gives him a nod, before lying back down against the sheets.
“I heard Uncle Sukuna say that Mommy was just scared that he was going to die. He’s not going to die, right?”
Eren makes a mental note to call Lana and Sukuna tomorrow and ask them to refrain from gossiping until they get home.
“He’s not going to die, Marco. He’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Connie really missed you both.”
Marco gives him a nod, Eren pressing one last lingering kiss to his forehead, before padding out of the room and flicking the light shut. Eren shuffles back out to the kitchen, noting the open packet of ramen on the counter, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your frame.
He’d deal with them in the morning. You first.
Eren can’t help but nestle into the crook in your shoulder – and noting that you immediately flinch at the feeling.
“Sorry. I meant to shave before I got back. I know it tickles.” Eren whispers.
You laugh.
“S’okay. I’ll help you tomorrow, Eren.” you mumble.
Eren leans down, breathing in the sweet smell of your shampoo and soap mixed in, as he leans his cheek against yours.
Eren ranked all the moments in his head. Sweet memories that felt like lightbulbs to him – the way they stuck out in his memory – but he always had his favorites.
Watching Maya play the piano. Teaching Marco how to take polaroids of you and Maya. Marco meeting Armin and Maya telling Jean his haircut sucked.
And his personal favorite was letting his beard grow out just to the point where it annoyed you – just so you’d offer to shave it for him. Attentive fingers, eyes focused and without fail, a sweet kiss and a hug at the end for his clean shaven face.
It was one of the things that was always promised. That you’d complain, that he’d pretend to hate it when you shaved his beard, and that you’d kiss him afterwards. That you’d taste like toothpaste because you just brushed your teeth and then go to sleep next to him after the fact.
Eren can’t help but squeeze harder.
“You know, you’ll cut off my circulation any second now.”
“Any reason you didn’t come running at me?” Eren asks.
“The little speedsters beat me to it. They missed you a lot, you know?” you respond.
Eren laughs.
“Not as much as you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eren shrugs. It takes you three seconds to clock it, before you roll your eyes.
Of course they told him that you cried earlier.
“Who was the narc?”
“There was no narc. I just know how to read you really well.” Eren responds
“Eren.”
“A gentleman never tells.”
“I know they both told you. I just want to know who did it first.” you clarify.
Eren smiles.
“Marco, of course.”
You laugh.
“He’s really living up to the name. The only narc bigger than him was the other Marco.”
Telling Jean when Mikasa was upset at him. Telling Connie that Sasha forgot his birthday.
You feel Eren lift off of you, two hands firm on your shoulder, as he drags you closer to him. It’s warm hands that cup your face and it’s only then that you notice that his green eyes are rimmed with red and that he looks tired.
“I missed you too, you know?” Eren whispers.
You smile.
“I know.”
“You can just ask Maryam. I even cried about it.”
You snort, the tiniest wave of embarrassment peeling off of you, as you lean forward, wrapping your hands around his face.
“Really?”
“You already know that I’m already of the opinion that I’ve spent far too much of my life without you. That includes two weeks in California, Y/N.” Eren responds, voice soft.
You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“How’s Connie?” you ask.
Eren smiles.
“He brought a framed picture of all of us from our wedding to the hospital room. He’s been fine this entire time.”
You snort.
“Typical.”
Eren laughs.
“He told the nurse you were his sister when she asked about the picture. So much so that they were ready to add you to his health documents and start screening you for blood diseases or some shit because he thought you were actually related.”
You both laugh. And you relish in the fact that Connie was still there, underneath his beaten body.
“Teddy is coming tomorrow for spelling bee practice. Gracie gave me two new ribbons – pink and purple with lace – and Maya wasn’t even excited to see Sukuna yesterday.” you state.
Eren’s eyes light up.
“Really?”
“Hold your horses, Eren. It took her two seconds before she was happy to see him again.”
Eren rolls his eyes.
“Well, Gracie’s coming tomorrow, so he can kiss my ass. And Falco too in a few days and you know I’m obviously his favorite.” Eren asks.
You shake your head at him. Always trying to one up Sukuna – something that was natural, since they were both so good with kids.
“You know, I didn’t even realize how big our family got before our eyes.” you whisper.
Eren smiles, before leaning forward, and closing the space between the two of you. He tastes like the remnants of the cookie – dusted sugar and coffee – hanging on his lips.
“Sometimes I forget I used to dream about this entire thing. Being away kind of reminded me of that.” Eren whispers.
“This entire thing?”
“You and me, the most. But also friends that live a few streets away. Teddy feeling like he has cousins and…and having kids.”
You smile.
“You know your kids adore you, right?
Eren smiles.
“They just have a recency bias. They love you way more than me.”
You roll your eyes.
“I don’t make their milk right.”
Eren pinches your cheek.
“And I don’t do Maya’s hair the way she likes it or make Marco’s bed properly. Same thing.”
You smile..
“They love us both. We’re both very lucky to have two healthy kids and a family that’s…that’s mostly healthy, that’s all together.”
Eren pauses, a light glisten in his eyes. You can tell that he doesn’t feel that.
“Eren?”
“Tell me about this dream of yours.” he mumbles.
You groan.
“Lana?”
“Technically Maya mentioned it too.” Eren adds.
You smile.
“It’s just a weird dream that I’ve been having. S’always dark and I’m driving. There’s a horn and clicking and I just wake up feeling all frazzled. I think I was just worrying about Connie too much.” you respond.
Eren shrugs.
“Maybe.”
“You don’t sound very convinced.” you state.
Eren sighs, scooching over as he leans towards the bowl of simmering noodles, straining them into the bowl that you have placed at the side. You can’t help but lean against his arm, Eren absentmindedly placing a kiss in your hair, as you watch the steam.
“Did you know that Maryam drove me to the hospital everyday to see Connie?”
You snort.
“Do you have no concern for your life? You are a father now, you know?”
You’re half convinced that Maryam hypnotized someone to get her license at the DMV. Or that she somehow became legally blind the few minutes that she sat behind the wheel.
“I mean, I do. But I just couldn’t bring myself to drive.”
You pause.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I would just sit in the chair and get all…all anxious just sitting there. I couldn’t even put the key in the engine.”
You lean forward, rubbing your hands up and down his biceps.
“Any reason why?” you ask.
Eren signs, before leaning forward, with his eyes focused on the calendar.
“You know, you always forget to change the calendar.”
“I don’t really look at it.” you state.
Eren leans forward, switching the page from last month to the current one, which is when you notice it.
That it’s June. That it’s been June for a few days now and that you didn’t even keep track of the numbers.
“When did your dream start?” Eren asks.
You get it now.
“Four days ago.” you state, throat dry.
Eren gives you a halfhearted smile, as he counts backwards, all the way to June 11th.
The day that Marco died. And you didn’t even realize. That you went about your business that day – taking Maya to piano, dropping off Teddy at school – and you didn’t even think about it.
“Oh my god, Eren.” you mumble.
“That’s when I couldn’t drive. I…I didn’t necessarily remember, but…but it just felt wrong.”
“I forgot.” you whisper.
“So did I.” Eren responds.
You feel the tears burn out of your sockets as you realize – realize that Marco’s death anniversary passed and you forgot, that you were already in the early hours of his birthday and you didn’t remember – and that time was passing so fast you can’t even remember what he looks like anymore.
You can’t help but lean forward, wracking quiet tears into Eren’s shoulder, as you realize the dream. The clicking sounds were camera flashes, the car cuts you off and you crash, and you feel like you know them, because the paparazzi always seem familiar to you.
You were dreaming about Marco dying. From Marco’s perspective. And Eren can’t get in the car, because he’s petrified it’s going to happen to him.
The thought crosses your mind that Eren rushed back so fast – so fast because he was worried about you.
Not because of the dream, but because of that day. Because when Lana told him that Marco died – she didn’t specify his name. And his first thought was you – he thought you were the one who died.
He was always reminded of it, that feeling, whenever the day came around. The fear of you dying. You wonder if it crossed his mind a few days ago.
Eren lets go, shuffling behind you to rummaging through the fridge.
“Anything close to cake?”
“There should be a cookie or two. Maybe at the top.” you mumble.
Eren slams the door shut behind you, as you reach for the drawer on the left, pulling out the colored flame candles from Grace’s surprise birthday, as Eren joins you at your side, plating the cookie in the center.
You jam the wax candle into the center, Eren quick with the matches at your side as you watch the flame light up purple, and the two of you lean closer to the warmth.
It was the one tradition that you and Eren afforded yourself. That every year on Marco’s birthday, you made a wish for him. And after the fact, you wouldn’t reminisce on it at all – not unless it was happy.
It’s what he would have wanted.
“You first, Eren.”
Eren sighs.
“I wish you were still here with us. But I hope you’re happy wherever you are, Marco.”
Eren’s wish is the same every year.
You smile, leaning your head against Eren’s shoulder.
“I know you told us you’d haunt us if we ever apart, but I didn’t realize that applied to domestic travel, Marco.”
Eren gives you a teary laugh.
“I hope you’re resting easy, wherever you are. Come visit me in my dreams the good way. Keep all the bad stuff away.” you mumble.
You and Eren give each other a look, before lightly blowing out the candles together, and wrapping yourselves in each other’s embrace.
You remember shreds of a very vague dream the next morning.
It’s your wedding day. But somehow Marco and Maya are there, giggling as they pass the two of you rings.
And the other Marco’s standing there too, smiling and giving his approval.
--
an: ah yes. method acting in the lords month august 2024. had to make it angsty for obvious reasons. we all know who I am at my core. also why did this make me cry I miss this fic so much
taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @chericos @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori i @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv
#seeingivywrites!#method acting#eren#eren x you#eren x reader#eren x y/n#eren fluff#eren angst#eren jaeger#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger x y/n#eren jaeger fluff#eren jaeger angst#eren yeager#eren yeager fluff#eren yeager angst#eren yeager x reader#eren yeager x y/n#eren yeager x you#aot#aot x you#aot x reader#aot x y/n#aot fluff#aot angst#snk#snk x you#snk x reader#snk x y/n#snk fluff
208 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Ever-forgetful John "Soap" MacTavish,
Who just happens to turn the kitchen tap on during your shower, at the exact point in which you need the release of hot water on your skin, and - as a requiem of British plumbing - it sucks the warmth from the water until you're left shivering, ballooned by half your weight in suds alone, and crouched like a beggar before the shower-head until it returns to lukewarm; at best. Naturally, you've told him time and time over never to put the tap on; never to fill the kettle to boil, never to flush the toilet or wash his hands whenever you needed to clean yourself - it was common decency.
Now, he asserts this would be possible if you kept your showers short, though, you'd learnt by month three of your relationship that what he meant by short was a thirty-second (nary a minute) hop-in, hop-out with a bottle of three-in-one doused, rubbed and subsequently rinsed from every crevace and hair follicle on one's body, as he had done between training sessions, spat at by a man whose impatience rivalled that of WW2 bomber over London during the bloody Blitz.
Anything north of that - thirty-seconds, that is - is free game. Hence, what should have been a thirty-minute 'everything' shower becomes something of an Irish jig, tip-toeing back and forth like a naked man on hot coals, hissing, hoo-ing and hah-ing as you deliberate the numerous ways you might enact a similar torture on him. Hair-dye in his shampoo? Moisturiser instead of toothpaste? Refusal of any and all bathroom-related sex?
It's the thought that plagues your mind as you exit the shower, dissatisfied as if there still exists an itch on your back that can not be reached, that you've been aimlessly swatting at for the duration of your shower, wrapping a hasty towel across your torso to meet him in the kitchen.
You barely sniffle at the wet footsteps along the hardwood floors, though it's exactly the sort of foolishness you'd slap his shoulder for leaving, after you'd so dutifully mopped them the previous week. It'll sink in the grain, don't you know? The wood fibres will pick it up like a sponge in the rain, and you'll be left with damp-smelling floorboards that creak in the summer and crack in the winter, and there'll be no getting those mould stains out!
...Is the sort of vitriol your brain spills as you enter the kitchen, expecting to see Johnny fiddling with the kettle to perfect just the right amount of water for two cuppas - oh, none for him, only two for you, one right after your shower and another, ten minutes after the first.
But he isn't there. He isn't anywhere, in fact. The kettle isn't warm, and there are no used tea bags on the tea bag-catcher, seeping their remaining liquid onto the work surface so it stains.
But there is, however, one long green hospipe trailing from the kitchen tap, hooked taught on its end, out through a crack in the window, through the rear garden. And, whisked away by curiosity, you follow its trail.
There he is.
Watering the plants?
"Johnny?"
He turns. Almost points the hosepipe in the same direction, too, with that giddy smile of his, but he has just enough tact in himself not to do that - not after you've just showered. "Y'cannae be comin' outside in tha', Bonnie, you'll catch yer death!"
"Is this what you've been doing whilst my shower's been running cold?"
Johnny turns into an imbecile with that daft frown on him. Never has a man with such a large brain looked so terribly confused by something so simple. What were you talking about, what he's been doing? Cannae ye see?
"Not quite." His brow furrows. "Oi... I told ye to get back inside, lass. Never mind yous flashin' the neighbours." Then pauses for a moment as he re-adjusts his grip on the hosepipe. "Aye, ye might wanna watch this, though."
And watch, you do.
As he sheds the seriousness from his face, dons a more appropriately pleased smile, lifting the hose up to the neighbours fence - just so that the curve of the water arches over the panels - he sends a fledged stream over top of the boundary.
You're about to shout. Really. You're about to put on your mummy-voice (that's what he calls it), perhaps the only instinct you have in you to shout 'John MacTavish', in the most disappointed tone you can muster - reminds him of his Mam, it does, when he used to steal biscuits out of the biscuit jar when he wasn't supposed to - until he ceases everything that could possibly have warranted it in the first place.
Though, just as your lips part, you watch something black - maybe a dark brown, actually - dart across the stream, rendering it effectively useless in its spread.
Johnny turns to you, eyes wide, mouth agape. "Tha' was a good'un, did ye see that, love?!"
He knows you're confused. He can see it in your eyes.
So he does it again.
And it happens again.
A black - no, it's definitely brown this time, just soddened by the water enough to resemble tar - thing leaps past the spout of water. You can hear it chomping, jingling, panting, and it soon dawns on you what the shadow is;
It's a dog - it's the neighbour's bloody dog.
Johnny waits for your reaction - he hopes it's similar to his: complete awe. Imagine his shock - he was only watering the hedges! But you can only relinquish a sigh and a slightly (emphasis on slight) amused chuckle as you note;
"That's what you've been doing for half an hour whilst I've been in the shower? Playing with the neighbour's dog?"
"Yeah!" He gave the fence another squirt, and sure as the rain, the pup came rumbling after it, jaw agape for maximum bite. "An' I don't even like dogs, but ye cannae be mad at him, look how happy he is!"
And, as you step back through the kitchen with a tired laugh, feet still dripping with water, goosebumps prickled along your skin (and although there will be words to have later in the afternoon), you know his words hold some semblance of truth;
That you can't be mad at him, look how happy he is!
| Masterlist |
#call of duty#call of duty drabble#john soap mactavish#cod drabble#cod#cod fanfic#cod fandom#john mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#soap drabble#soap fanfic
213 notes
·
View notes
Text
oh, dilute me, gentle angel.
this has no specifics, mostly gender neutral, no use of Y/N, pure fluff!! this is my first try at writing, so if there's anything wrong, please let me know. if there are any requests leave them in my asks! around 2.7K words!

A long day of work led to Spencer coming home tired, as usual. You'd been at the stove for a while, cooking a meal for the two of you. The door opened, and then shut softly a few seconds later, the sound of footsteps ringing through the living room.
You turned, and there he was, in the doorway. His eyes were half-lidded, hair messy and glasses askew on his face. Flicking on the kettle, you poured at least 3 dessert spoons of sugar into the bottom of his Star Trek mug, lowering the heat on the stove. With the boiling pot now simmering, you walked over, helping him strip off his purple scarf and his coat.
"I missed you all day, how was work?" He'd called you early in the morning to tell you about the copious amounts of paperwork he had from the last case. Either way, it was nice to hear about everything as a whole.
"Too long, I missed you so much" Pulling you in for a tight hug, his arms found their place on your waist. Spencer was smart, he always had been, but in moments like this, he physically couldn't be.
Your affection had always made his IQ of 187 drop to an average of 100 (probably less). This had started the minute you two got together, his usual rambles falling short at the sight of your pretty face. It always made you giddy, knowing you had such an effect on a once extremely put-together man.
Your arms soon followed, mirroring his actions, around his torso. The rapid beating of his heart slowed once you reciprocated contact, most of his stress leaving his body. Spencer moved back, gently, not to startle you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, just below your hairline.
"You're so pretty.." His words were quiet, barely there, but you heard.
You didn't feel it, you'd barely left your room all day, not bothering to get dressed, or even do your usual morning routine. Standing there, in his arms, in a shirt and underwear.
"Sure." It was sarcastic, the words leaving your mouth as quick as he could read a thousand words. He frowned, pressing another kiss to your head, before carding his long, nimble fingers through your hair.
He knew that if he started with the usual "Don't say that about yourself" or the "I really mean it, you're stunning" it wouldn't work, so he always chose physical affection to show you love instead. No matter how much you tried to deny it, you always ended up feeling better around him, with him.
With a hesitant sigh, you knew you had to go back to preparing dinner, the noodles on the stove not needing to boil for any longer. Spencer made his way up the stairs, taking a quick shower and getting changed into something more comfortable. It was always strange to see him in lounge wear, he's always dressed so smartly around everyone else.
It was hilarious to you when he came down, hair wet, dripping onto the tile like a wet dog, in a pair of pajamas. Not any pajamas, but the ones you'd brought him around Christmas last year. They were dark blue, the top long sleeved, the bottoms all the way down to his ankles. Patterned with conical flask designs, each one filled with multicoloured liquid. A small laugh left your parted lips, his smile widening with a defensive "Don't laugh at me! I don't have any other clothes.."
'Liar ' You thought.
But, you let it slide as he watched you putting the noodles out into two separate bowls. Garnishing the top with a few herbs from the cupboard above you, the two meals sitting there on the counter. One with a pair of chopsticks, the other, a fork.
#mgg#spencer reid#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n
138 notes
·
View notes
Text
Undesirable
Plot: Thomas is omega who will never find his true mate. Or no?
Warnings: omegavers; deviation from the canon; omega!Thomas Hewitt, alpha!male!reader / Y/N
Note: sorry for a long waiting, I finally finished it :)
Part 3 | Part 1, Part 2, Part 4 , Part 5
•••
You entered the comfortably furnished kitchen, which was noticeably cooler than outside under the scorching Texas sun. The dark light curtains on the windows were tightly pulled apart, leaving the room in a slight semi-darkness, but this did not particularly affect the visibility in the room. The light source was a chandelier on the ceiling with a slightly crackling yellow light bulb.
Luda kindly sat you down at the table and put a kettle on the stove. There was a strange, but not unpleasant smell in the room, rather just an unusual one. You glanced around the room, admiring the small, but once lovingly furnished by the Luda herself. Obviously, this was the place where the woman spent most of her time, and not because of any household chores, but simply because of the peace of mind felt in this room.
There was a shrill whistle, and Luda, after putting a towel on the handle of the kettle, took the kettle off the stove and began pouring boiling water into cups. They were very beautiful cups that looked like real pearls. They looked very thin and delicate, each cup was painted in a delicate pastel color and framed with a gold border. And even though there were chips on the cups in some places, they still remained beautiful and graceful. After pouring tea into cups, Luda went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a plate with a small pie, in which several pieces were already missing. It must have been an apple pie, although you couldn't tell just by the look of it.
The woman carefully placed the pie in front of you and sat down on the next chair.
"Honestly, I wasn't expecting guests," she said with a smile, putting a piece of pie in your saucer. "Besides, I'm often not at home. It's been a long time since I've just had tea with someone, Y/N."
In response, you slightly lift the corners of your lips and thank the woman for the treat, breaking off a piece of pie with a teaspoon. But despite your first impression of this lovely woman's children, you realized from her further talking that they weren't so bad. Yes, Luda spoke of them as big children, but she loved them. And they obviously did too, just showing it in their own way. Right now, for you, she was just a woman who had a lot on her mind, and who simply had no one to talk to before you appeared. And you turned out to be a good listener. By the end of her dialogue, you've already eaten three whole pieces of pie.
"Thanks for the food, Luda. You cook just amazing," you said, smiling, "And where is your toilet..?"
"Oh? On the second floor, the second door on the right, honey."
You nodded briefly and went in the indicated direction. The bathroom was small, obviously it was a guest one, but cozy and clean. You quickly went to the toilet and hastily washed your hands when you heard new voices downstairs. A car door could be heard slamming violently from the outside, and then the front door closed. The house was filled with a lot of footsteps. Luda said something displeased to the newcomers, but you didn't hear what exactly. More footsteps, knocks, metal scraping. And silence.
You carefully left the bathroom and went down the stairs. Your fingers dug into the wooden railing with force when you saw strangers in the middle of the room. In the living room, an elderly man, a little older than Luda, was sitting in an armchair, and another man was standing next to the woman herself, who was standing in the center of the room and actively talking. In a beige uniform, taller than a woman, he looked like a typical sheriff you've seen in neighboring states. His hat was slightly on one side, and his hands were in his pockets. And his every resistance to Luda began with a tearful 'Oh mom!'. It was obviously one of her sons.
Finally, the man turned around, his wrinkled face frowning.
"Who the hell is this kid?" He gave you a look full of contempt.
"Charlie! This is our guest, he brought me home," Luda replied, grabbing her son by the nose.
"Mom, I asked you not to call me that in front of someone!"
The man came up to you, examining you from head to toe and as if constantly chewing something. He chuckled.
"You're a tough guy. Clearly not one of those.."
You smiled nervously, not knowing how to behave. The only thing left for you in this situation was to make a good impression and behave politely.
"Hello.. I am Y/N Y/S," you said in as even a tone as possible, holding out your hand. The man grunted in disbelief, but returned the handshake. "Hoyt. Sheriff Hoyt. "
There were heavy, slow footsteps and deep breathing behind you. A mixture of a pleasant peach fragrance, mixed with metal, wood and something else, hit your nose. Luda's face softened a little, and a soft word came out of her mouth 'There you are, Tommy.' You turned around and saw the same big, sweet guy you saw that day at Mrs. Hewitt's store. Thomas's dark hair was tousled and looked damp with sweat, and he was wearing a plaid shirt and a work apron stained with something dark brown.
"Tommy, why don't you take our guest to his room? And change your clothes, please. Dinner is coming soon."
The door handle clicked, and the man gently opened the creaking door in front of you. The room was small but cozy. There is a large bed in the corner of the room, a desk against the wall, a wardrobe and a large window curtained with white, slightly dusty curtains. The window was wide open, so that the air that had warmed up during the day penetrated into the room. You gave a short nod to your new acquaintance and entered the room. The mattress was incredibly soft, although there were old springs in some places, so it really made you feel at home. The bedspread was a little dusty, probably due to the rare use of this room, but the sheets underneath were crisp and clean. You looked up at the giant standing in the doorway and smiled slightly.
"Thank you," you said, and you could have sworn that in the blink of an eye, the room was filled with even more delicate scent of peach and honey.
The man nodded curtly and walked away. Immediately, another door creaked. Apparently, your room was next to his bedroom. You sighed, sinking your whole body onto the bed, small specks of dust rose into the air at once, now clearly visible in the rays of the evening sun. These people were strange. But they were.. nice? Maybe. At least they're better than your narcissistic relatives.
#slashers x reader#slasher x you#slasher x reader#thomas hewitt x you#thomas hewitt x male reader#thomas brown hewitt imagine#thomas hewitt x reader#thomas hewitt imagine
169 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but if you aren’t feel free to ignore this!
anyways, i was thinking what would it be like if you were back on base and did something nice for everyone and made their fave coffee/tea while you’re all relaxing after a long mission? like how would the 141 react and what would you make for them?
that’s all but i hope you have a great day and i absolutely love your writings!! they seriously are so detailed and amazing, you do a beautiful job w each one💌
unwind — python333
— — — —
synopsis the 141 + you are back from a super long mission and u make them their fave coffee/tea!!
relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.
word count 3.6k
characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.
warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], gaz being a little shit.
note thank you so much for the req!! i am taking them right now, but apologies if i post them 2+ days after i get them, my writers block is slowly creeping back into my mind and im fighting it off the best i can! also, thank you for the compliments :3 ilysm youre too nice!! i saw ur reblog of bedbound too and i was so sjdfksdfks!! hope u have a good day too and hope you enjoy this fic, it's all fluff and way too in depth descriptions of making tea/coffee!!

As soon as the electric kettle clicks, signaling to you that the water inside of it has been boiled, you unplug it and pour the water into a mug you’d pulled from the cabinets. It still surprised you that there were any mugs left, with how many people kept stealing to put on their desk to hold pencils—by people, you mean Soap, and only Soap—but you weren’t complaining.
You set the kettle back down once the mug is filled up just an inch below the brim and grab the tea bag you’d grabbed earlier, wrapping the string around the handle of the mug a few times before putting the bag itself into the water. Almost immediately, you see small tendrils of dark brown flow out from the drowned tea bag into the originally clear water.
As that happens, you walk the small few steps over to the small fridge from the kettle and open it, grabbing the small carton of cream and closing the fridge shut. You walk back over to the mug and unscrew the cap of the carton, pouring some cream into the mug, adding a half inch of height to the liquid already in the mug before screwing the cap back on and setting the carton down.
You don’t bother to grab a spoon and mix anything yet, instead reaching over to the small terracotta container beside the coffee machine that contained sugar, and taking off the lid.
You think for a moment if you should grab a spoon for this, but ultimately decide against it, instead just tipping the container over the mug and letting what you hope is two teaspoons of sugar spill over into the mug.
Afterwards, you put the lid back on the container holding the sugar and set it back next to the coffee machine, and grab the cream to put back into the fridge.
Once the cream’s been put back, you open the drawers in the counter and grab a small spoon, one that’s just tall enough that it won’t be fully submerged in the tea, and put it into the mug.
You close the drawer and give the tea a few stirs before picking up the mug, being careful of the scalding heat and holding it solely by its handle. You carefully walk out of the snack bar extension of the kitchen and head towards Price’s office.
After a year or two of working with him, you’ve learned a lot about his tea preferences—he likes Yorkshire tea, the original one, not the gold. He only likes cream and sugar in his coffee, just to make it smoother and make it a bit sweeter, but doesn’t like it too sweet.
You vaguely remember him telling you he’d never had honey or any other sweeteners besides a bit of sugar in his tea, and remember more vividly you thinking, God, that’s such an old person thing to say, but not saying it out loud.
Once you’ve reached his office, you knock a few times and Price’s tired voice calls out, “Come in!”
You open the door, careful to keep the mug from spilling in your hands, and walk in, closing the door behind you. Price looks up from his computer, presumably writing a report on the mission you’d all just come back from an hour or two ago, and offers a small smile when he sees you. He’s about to say something before he catches sight of the mug in your hands.
“Did you…” He doesn’t finish his question, but you know what he was about to ask, and you nod in response.
“If it’s too sugary let me know,” You tell him, setting the mug down a safe distance away from his computer, “I can remake it.”
“I won’t make you remake it,” Price looks at you, almost offended, “You didn’t have to make me anything in the first place, but thank you, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” You hum, walking away, saying over your shoulder, “Hope you like it.”
You open the door without another word and walk out, closing it behind you, heading right back to the snack bar. Now for Soap.
Soap typically preferred coffee to tea, despite tea’s popularity in Scotland. He’d told you that he really couldn’t taste the difference between different coffee blends, but upon hearing that there was a Scottish blend, he declared he’d only drink that one, because of course he did.
He pretended he could tell if the coffee he was drinking was of that Scottish blend, but you knew he couldn’t. How did you know? You’d only ever given him Scottish roast once. Every other time since then, it’s been French roast.
He’s never really used a coffee machine for himself, going to cafes or coffee shops most of the time for coffee, keeping his usual coffee order written in his notes app because he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.
He’d sometimes modify his order if certain coffee shops didn’t do certain things that he usually got, but his order stays mostly the same every time he gets coffee. Medium (or grande, if he’s at Starbucks) latte with a double shot of espresso.
Typically, he’d get some shortbread too, but you didn’t really have any in the base, so he’d have to do without it today.
Once you enter the snack bar, you grab another mug from the cabinets above the counter and place it under the coffee machine. You open the cabinets right by the ones that contained the mugs and grab a bag of ground French roast, pulling it out and putting it on the counter.
You open it up and find that there’s conveniently already a small cup in there to scoop the coffee grounds up, and use your free hand to grab a new coffee filter from the same cabinets you got the coffee grounds from, swiftly putting it into the machine.
You use your other hand to scoop up some coffee grounds and put them into the filter, closing the top of the coffee machine afterwards and turning on the machine. You’re grateful there’s more options listed on the small digital screen that lights up on the machine than just plain black coffee, not really in the mood to try and steam milk right now.
You tap on the ‘latte’ option and watch as the screen changes and hear the coffee machine start to whir.
As it does that, you put away the coffee grounds and open up the cabinets that contained mugs once again, pulling out a small espresso glass and setting it onto the counter.
You wait patiently for the coffee to brew, and once you hear the small beep sound from the machine that signals that it’s done, you pull away the steaming hot coffee and set it down right next to the coffee machine.
You quickly put the espresso glass under the machine and start it up again, this time tapping the ‘espresso shot’ option—surprised that’s even an option, honestly—and hearing the familiar whirring noise start up again. It doesn’t take nearly as long as brewing the latte did, the small beep coming much sooner than it did just a minute or two earlier, and you pull away the small espresso glass from the machine almost immediately after you hear it.
You pause for a moment, looking at how much the latte part had filled up the mug, and look around for a moment before opening up the same drawer that contains the eating utensils and grabbing a straw, putting the straw in the still hot latte—is that a good idea? No. Did you do it anyway because you physically can’t think before you act? Absolutely—and taking a long sip of it.
You pull the straw out once the liquid in the mug is at a good inch below the brim and then pour in the espresso shot, setting the glass down after you do so.
You look around for a second for a trash bin and find one just a few steps away from you, quickly throwing out the straw you’d used and then walking back over to the empty espresso glass, picking it up and setting it down by the sink. God forbid we get a dishwasher in here or something, You think absentmindedly as you pick up the mug and carefully walk out of the snack bar with it, Would it hurt to at least get some dish soap in here or something?
You make it out of the snack bar without burning your fingers and start the much longer walk to Soap’s sleeping quarters. You’d caught him walking out of his office in that direction earlier, so you can only assume that he’d gone there.
Once you make it there, you knock on the door a few times and wait for Soap to call out to you and allow you to come in before twisting the door knob and opening the door. He’s laying on his back on his bed, thumb paused on his phone screen as he looks over at you as you enter. He notices the coffee and sits up a bit, grunting as he does.
He wasn’t really as talkative after long missions like the one you’d all been on earlier—usually it took him a day or two to be more social and back to himself, so you didn’t take much offense to him not greeting you as loudly as he usually did.
He nods at the coffee, “Is that for me?”
“Mhm,” You hum, handing him the mug, “Be careful, it’s hot.”
“Got it,” Soap carefully takes the mug into his hands, and softly blows on it before looking at you again and grinning at you, “Weel, thank ye for this. Ye really didnae hae tae.”
“Price actually said the same thing,” You muse, almost to yourself, before speaking a little louder, “No problem.”
“Oh did he?” Soap asks, raising an eyebrow, before his expression shifts and he feigns confusion, “Wait, how come he got a drink afore me?”
“Because his office was closer to the snack bar,” You explain, crossing your arms.
“… Nae, it’s definitely ‘cause ye hate me,” Soap disagrees, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “And tae think I thought we were friends.”
“It is no— you know what?” You begin to argue, before sighing and rolling your eyes, “I do hate you, and we were never friends, you ungrateful piece of shit.”
Soap laughs, quieter than he usually does but it’s still a genuine laugh. He looks down at the coffee again and back at you, before saying, “Thank ye. Again.”
“No problem,” You replied, walking back towards the door and opening it, walking out of Soap’s sleeping quarters and closing the door behind you. Now for Ghost.
Ghost typically liked tea more than coffee, but you think that’s just the British in him talking. Realistically, you could give him either or, and he’d say a polite ‘thank you’ and move on.
From years of being apart of the 141, any preferences or additives he liked to put in his tea or coffee slowly dissipated and instead he just drank either one plain. Which should make the tasks you’ve forced yourself to do today easier, but knowing you, you just couldn’t take the easy route with this.
You remember a conversation with him that happened several months ago where you had been talking about your own tea and coffee preferences. Ghost had commented that he didn’t often put any additives in his own hot drinks anymore, but back before he’d joined the military, he liked to drink keemun tea occasionally with nutmeg in it.
Keemun tea—which was fucking expensive by the way, costing around sixteen pounds for twenty tea bags in every store you could find them in—wasn’t too hard to find, so the next time you went on leave after that conversation, you’d bought a box of bags of keemun tea leaves and some ground nutmeg.
You didn’t let Ghost know about it, and kind of forgot about it just a week after you bought it, but now the memory of you buying it and storing it in the snack bar behind a few other boxes of tea bags has resurfaced and it’s the only thing you think is appropriate to give Ghost at a time like this.
You get back to the snack bar and almost robotically you pull a mug out from the cabinets above the counter and set it down on said counter, deciding to grab another one just so that you wouldn’t have to do it later, and setting that one down right next to the other. You open the cabinet beside that and move some of the boxes out of the way to find the keemun tea box in the very back, right where you last left it.
You snatch it out of the cabinet and open it, pulling out a small packet and opening it up to pull out the tea bag inside. You go ahead and put the tea bag inside of the mug and put the tea box back in the cabinet, closing the small cabinet door afterwards.
You then grab the electric kettle that’s right by the sink and pop open the lid, putting it under the faucet and turning said faucet on, waiting until the water fills a quarter of the kettle. Once it does, you turn off the faucet and put the kettle down right by the outlet on the wall.
You put the lid down and wait for it to click into place before you plug the kettle into the outlet and press the small button below the handle to turn it on, and listen as it starts to make a small whirring noise. You don’t waste too much time just standing there, waiting for the water to finish boiling, instead putting the other mug you’d pulled out from the cabinets under the coffee machine and turning it on.
You tap on the ‘decaf flat white’ option and watch the digital screen change and another whirring sound starts up, now coming from the coffee machine.
You were starting to make Gaz’s while making Ghost’s drink because Gaz often made the mistake of drinking his coffee before it was cool enough to not burn his tongue, so if you made it earlier, it’d have more time to cool, and Gaz wouldn’t have to wait as long before drinking it, therefore solving the whole ‘burning-his-tongue-because-he’s-impatient’ problem he has.
Gaz liked simple flat whites, and sure, he liked tea too, but nothing could top a good flat white for him. He’d get them anywhere and everywhere he can, and you honestly admire his dedication to getting a flat white everywhere he goes.
The coffee machine finished up quickly, a small beep sounding from the machine as it stopped its whirring and a few more drops of coffee made it into the mug before it completely stopped. You pull the mug out from under the machine and set it aside for now, just waiting for the water to finish boiling in the kettle.
Once the kettle clicks and the whirring from that machine stops, you unplug it and pour some water into the empty mug you’d picked out for Ghost, waiting until it’s filled up about a half inch below the brim of the mug before taking the kettle away from the mug and pouring the rest of the unused water into the sink.
You set the kettle down beside the coffee machine where it belongs and check the drawer below the one that held the eating utensils, looking through some of the spices and drink additives in it before finally finding the ground nutmeg you needed.
You unscrew the cap and tilt the small spice jar over the mug, letting some of the powder spill into the mug before tilting it back and screwing the cap back on. You put it back in its spot and close that drawer, now opening the drawer above it and grabbing a small spoon, closing that one after you’ve grabbed the spoon and putting the spoon into the mug to mix the spices in it around a bit.
You leave Gaz’s mug on the counter, hoping that nobody steals it while you’re away, and instead pick up the mug meant for Ghost, carefully walking out of the snack bar with it.
Ghost’s office is fairly far away, but you still manage to get there without burning your fingers or anything on the mug. You knock on the door a few times and wait for Ghost to call out permission for you to come in before you open the door and walk in.
Ghost immediately looks over at you and spots the mug in your hand, but ignores it for now, instead opting to ask, “Did you need something, [c/n]?”
“Not really,” You shrugged the best you could while holding scalding hot tea, “Just needed to give you this.”
You set the mug down on Ghost’s desk before he can say another word, and watch as he eyes the mug with curiosity and confusion.
“What’s this?” He asks, carefully picking up the mug, holding the top up to his nose to smell it. Before you can answer his question, you see his eyes widen and he questions a little louder, “Is this… keemun? With nutmeg?”
“You can tell just from the smell?” You ask, mildly impressed, watching as Ghost’s gaze turns into one more in awe of the mug.
“Yes, I can,” He mumbles, smelling the brim of the mug again, before looking over at you, “How did you know I liked keemun with nutmeg in it?”
“You told me about it, like, a few months ago. Six months ago, maybe? I dunno.”
“How do you remember a conversation from six months ago?”
“It was an important conversation, I guess?” You shrug, crossing your arms.
You watch in silence as Ghost eyes the tea and you take that as your sign to leave, walking towards the door, stopping right in front of it to twist the knob to open it before you’re interrupted by Ghost.
“Wait—” You turn your head and look at him over your shoulder, and immediately upon seeing his face, you think, oh my God is he tearing up? “Thank you, [c/n]. I really appreciate it.”
You offer a small smile and reply, “Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your tea.”
You open the door without another word and close it behind you, taking a deep breath before continuing down the hall back to the snack bar.
You’re relieved when you get there and see the mug, still steaming a bit, still on the counter. You quickly walk over to it and pick it up, walking right back out the door with it and heading straight for Gaz’s sleeping quarters. You remember him being so tired from the mission—you don’t know whether to hope he’s asleep and getting some rest, or to hope that he’s awake so you can properly hand him his coffee.
Once you make it to his sleeping quarters, you knock on the door, and there’s no response for a few moments, making you think he might actually be asleep, but then you hear Gaz’s drowsy voice call out, “You can come in!”
You open the door and see him rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up on his bed, looking over at you. His lips twitch up into a small smile once he sees you and he lets his hand drop into his lap.
“Hey, [c/n].” He looks over at the mug you’ve brought with you, before raising an eyebrow, “You brought something for me?”
“Very bold of you to assume it’s for you,” You close the door behind you and walk closer to him, “But yes, it is.”
Gaz perks up a bit at that and happily takes the mug off of your hands once you hand it to him, and his smile grows significantly bigger once he sees you’ve brought him a flat white.
“It’s decaf, don’t worry,” You say, as if reading his mind, “I figured you’d still want some sleep after drinking it.”
“Always so considerate,” Gaz sighs teasingly, raising the mug to his lips like you’d thought he would. Thankfully, his tongue doesn’t burn this time after he sips the coffee, and you let out a small sigh of relief at the fact.
“You know me,” You respond dryly, crossing your arms as you watch Gaz take a few more sips of the coffee.
“Thank you for this, by the way,” Gaz thanks you, taking another sip of the coffee before stating, “I hope you know you’re my favorite now.”
“Your favorite what?”
“Just my favorite, in general,” Gaz hums, “This is the best flat white I’ve ever drunk. Ten out of ten.”
“Thanks,” You thank him flatly, “It was made with love and a coffee machine I learned how to use yesterday.”
“I can just taste the love in it.”
“Not the coffee machine?”
“Well, it’s a bit concerning if someone can taste the coffee machine in their coffee, innit?” Gaz raises an eyebrow at you before taking another sip of his coffee.
“Not if it’s the one I used.”
“Whatever you say,” Gaz mutters, taking yet another sip of his coffee, making you huff out a small laugh.
“You enjoy your coffee,” You say before walking back over to the door, closing the door behind you as you walk out and letting out a tired breath, starting to head back to your own sleeping quarters.

#cod#cod hcs#hcs#captain john price#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#task force 141#kyle gaz garrick#task force 141 x reader#platonic task force 141#platonic task force 141 x reader#tf141#price#soap#ghost#gaz#its 2:17 am as im tagging this#why did i wait until 12 am to write this?? nobody knows#im also listening to those like 7 hr long compliations of markiplier playing random games#because for some reason my brain is more productive listening to him#so theres that#i also discovered that 'author has only watched other people play call of duty' is a tag on ao3?#which is so real btw#everyone else who used that tag is just like me fr
892 notes
·
View notes
Text
-gift-
featured character ☆ reo mikage
tag(s): fluff ☆
divider @cafekitsune
༊*·˚
You sigh as you walk back home from school. It was a lot colder than usual and you hated it. Nothing's better than having a bad day and it's freezing cold outside. Great. Despite the fact that in winter, you simply wear a uniform, a black skirt, and extremely thin black tights every year. Each and every single day, nothing was interesting anymore. School was equally boring every day. Most subjects are taught by the teachers you highly dislike, except for music and art. To sum it all up, you have no friends. Reo, who was basically your one and only friend, (soon became lovers) left to go to Blue Lock. Who knows when he'll be back? After all, without Reo, your life has suddenly became monochrome.
As you finally arrived back to your apartment suite, you noticed a huge brown box lying by the front of your door porch. Obviously, you were very puzzled by this. Who would randomly leave a humongous brown box? You couldn't simply leave this... gift(?) by your door. Seriously, it was extremely heavy to even drag it inside your "house" but you had to manage. It took around fifteen minutes or so to push that huge box in your house. Now, you stood there thinking.
Maybe it won't hurt to open this?
Your hands trembled, a sign of being hesitant. Suddenly, your phone gets a notification; It was Reo.
༊*·˚ -Reo: y/n, did you receive my gift yet?
-Y/n: gift?
-Reo: yea, the brown box
-Y/n: u mean the humongous brown box that i couldnt even manage to drag it inside my house?
-Reo: uhhh perhaps
-Y/n: WHY DID YOU GIVE ME SUCH A BIG GIFT???????????
-Reo: why not?
-Reo: anyways im outside right now
-Y/n: ??
-Y/n: WAIT WHAT?????
-Y/n: OUTSIDE?????
-Y/n: REO ANSWER ME
༊*·˚
You waited a few minutes for Reo to reply but supposedly, he's not going to reply sooner or later. Finally, no more thoughts. Reo said he was outside so surely he's telling the truth. You just had to go down even though you were only in your pajamas. You quickly climbed down the stairs as fast as you could. Sure, you roughly tripped on a few steps and almost died but that's not the matter right now. As soon as you stepped outside, Reo was there right in front of you. There was still some distance but close enough for you run into his arms. He was holding a fancy, but cute (and quite big) bouquet with a variety of different colorful, fragrant flowers. Reo was wearing some casual clothes, that's no surprise. "Reo!" you jumped on him and he hugged you tightly, almost tripping and dropping the big colorful bouquet of flowers on the ground. "Y/n!" Reo was so happy, he laughed, he had tears in his eyes, his heart could definitely burst at any moment. He must have been so happy and excited to see you after so long. Your heart could have also exploded at any moment too. Sudden small teardrops streamed down your cheeks and you quickly bury your face in Reo's shoulder, feeling a little embarrassed. A very muffled "I missed you so much..." came out of your mouth. Once your tears stopped, the two of you headed back to your apartment suite.
༊*·˚
Reo poured some water in a kettle, then placed it on top of a stove. "Wait Reo, I can make tea-" "No, it's fine." Reo commented. Once the water started boiling and made an extremely high-pitched whistling sound, he removed the shiny silver kettle from the stove and carefully poured the piping hot water in two mugs with a teabag in each cup then handed you the white ceramic mug with tea to you. "Thank you." you smiled. The two of you sat on the comfy navy blue sofa, right in front of you two was the gift Reo delivered to you. The two of you were awkwardly staring at it until Reo finally decided to say something:
"Well? Open it, Y/n!" he smiled and had an extremely enthusiastic but happy, and excited tone.
You tried ripping the clear tape that sealed the box but you struggled too much and so, had to use a box cutter in the end. Inside the box had seven regular sized light brown teddy bears and a ton of stationary that could probably last you until you were ninety years old. Burried under the seven brown teddy bears and the stationary haul, there was a small box that looked like something from a jewlery store. Very carefully, you opened it and saw a silver necklace. Shocked, you glanced at Reo and saw that he also had a silver ornemental chain dangling on his neck too. "Thank you Reo!" you thanked him but you also had no idea that your cheeks were flushed pink, all the way to your ears. Once again, that urge to just burst out in tears again. Reo wrapped his arms around you and gave you a peck on the forehead. You made up your mind, telling Reo about how life was so boring without him. The two of you laughed, the two of you cried.
༊*·˚
Both you and Reo were snuggling in bed, binge watching Detective Conan. Later on, perhaps after 8-9 episodes or so you fell asleep on his shoulder. Reo noticed that you had fallen asleep. He turned off the TV and just stared at you in awe for a few seconds. He then gently kissed your forehead and a few minutes later, dozed off.
unfortunately, reo isn't real... sobs in disappointment
thanks for reading :3
©fuyukohasnocreativity do not copy, repost, or translate. likes and reblogs are accepted and appreciated!
#blue lock#anime and manga#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock x you#reo mikage#mikage reo#reo mikage x reader#reo x reader#blue lock fluff#mikage reo x reader#bllk fluff#reo x you#bllk x y/n#blue lock x female reader#reo x y/n#i want a irl reo#mikage reo x y/n#mikage reo x you#fluff#bllk imagines#blue lock imagines#fuyuko-writes
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
maya le tissier | love languages
maya tells you she loves you in just about every way she can, all day, every day. she just doesn't say it in so many words. it takes you a while to catch on.
not enough maya appreciation on this app - enough is enough
word count: 8.7k



quality time
the empty bottle of wine stands sentry on the coffee table. you watch as the low glow of the tv reflects in the dregs left in your finished glasses. the volume is too low to hear what's being said, the show you were previously watching reduced to a steady background hum, but neither of you mind; you'd both stopped paying attention long ago.
you glance up from your book momentarily, your eyes flickering over the figure at the other end of the sofa. maya is similarly occupied; one hand softly tracing the words as she reads, the other absentmindedly tangling back and forth in mocha’s fur as he stretches across her feet. her hair hangs loose around her face, the lamp beside her casting her half in shadow and half in warm, orange light. mocha looks up at you, but maya doesn’t.
your attention shifts back to your book, and you settle back into familiarity. this nightly routine is one you love; the shared moment of respite from your busy schedules. it’s getting late though, and the words are starting to blur together on the page. you don’t want to disturb the peace just yet.
it’s only when you find your eyes running over the same sentence for the third time that you shift. the old sofa creaks a little as you stretch, and you let out an exaggerated groan to match it as you stand. maya laughs a little, but she doesn’t lift her gaze from the page. if she had she would have caught the way you poked your tongue out at her, and probably would have responded in kind.
maya cooked tonight, and so you begin to dutifully gather the empty dishes. it’s only when you’re arms deep in soapy water that you hear maya stand too. her book thuds against the coffee table, and mocha lets out a low bark.
“just taking the dog out,” maya calls, and you hum in response. the latch clicks. you reach a soapy hand out of the water to flick the kettle on. it’s all part of the routine.
they aren’t gone long, and their return is soon heralded by the gentle patter of mocha’s claws against the hardwood. maya pads into the kitchen, pulls two mugs and two teabags out of the cupboard, pours the water, now boiled, then hauls herself onto the worktop beside you.
“i was thinking of going on a dog walk in the woods tomorrow, you wanna come?”
“yeah sure, are the others coming?”
it’s a running joke that the 'unoffical manchester united dog walker's club' is the apex of the team’s social ladder. forget the coffee mornings, the brunches, the team nights out - if you wanted a way in for true bonding, you had to own a dog. it was common on days off for a group of the girls to get together to walk their dogs, with the intensity ranging from leisurely stroll to outright hike, depending on who had planned it. you’d learnt the hard way to politely decline when leah chose the route.
sure you didn’t technically own a dog, but having been roommates with maya for the best part of a year, and best friends for far longer, mocha was basically in shared custody. you regularly tagged along, as an honourary member of a tight-knit group.
it’s why you weren’t expecting maya to shrug and shake her head.
“i haven’t asked - i figured we could just go together. we haven’t hung out just us in a while.”
you chose not to mention that the two of you spent almost every night together in your flat, or that you’d gotten lunch together just two days ago. instead you grinned and nodded, drying your hands and taking the cup of tea that maya held out to you.
“sounds good,” you sip gently at your tea - before spitting it out with a yelp, “fuck, that’s hot!”
maya laughs brightly at you, even though you do this pretty much every day, “yeah no shit, i just made it - be patient for once!” you stick your tongue out at her, and this time she does see it, and she does return the gesture. it’s childish, sure, but your friendship had started in the youth age groups, and, although you were responsible adults now, some things never change.
you lean back against the counter as you wait for the tea to cool, and the two of you begin chatting a little while longer about not much at all. eventually maya jumps down, rinsing her mug and heading to her room, mocha in tow. you follow her, your own cup only half-drunk, flicking off the lights as you do so.
“night y/n,” maya says softly as she pushes her door open, lingering slightly in the doorway. she watches you clumsily shoulder open your own door, opposite hers, waiting for you to reply.
“goodnight maya.”
—-
maya was already up when you emerged the next morning, early mornings always coming to her more easily than they did to you. she always looked so put together when she woke up, a stark contrast to your disheveled appearance. not that either of you cared - those boundaries of self-consciousness had long been washed away between the two of you. it was only maya after all.
“there’s coffee in the pot,” she mumbled, chewing her words around her cereal.
“thanks, you’re an angel.”
“you ready to head out in a bit?” maya asked, having now swallowed her mouthful. you groaned a little in jest, but maya’s bright eyes shone with humour, and you nodded.
“sure, sure - although you know it’s called a day off for a reason?”
“you agreed to it, plus you’ve had like a two hour lie-in.”
“i know, i’m actually feeling very well-rested.” you placed your cereal down, seating yourself across from maya with a grin, “it’s just more fun to moan at you.”
“glad to hear it,” maya smirked, taking another spoonful. she knew you well enough to know that your moaning was only ever lighthearted, and she was perfectly happy to indulge you. you liked that about her, liked how easy it was to settle into that playful teasing whenever you were around each other, which in fairness, was most of the time.
---
you walked barely a half-step behind maya, eyes focused on the imprints her shoes left in the rain-softened ground, but ears firmly locked onto her latest anecdote. she turned slightly to look at you as she talked, and when you laughed, she did too. she looked so comfortable when she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled and her head tilted back. walking alongside her, you felt equally light. she paused to fall in step with you, still smiling. the two of you made eye contact, and you couldn't help the way your smile grew. maya looked away, fiddling with the dog lead she held in her hands.
"by the way, the girls were talking about having dinner tonight at millie's, do you wanna go?" maya asked, eyes flickering over the trees that surrounded you, before eventually landing back on you. you shrugged, giving maya a guilty smirk.
"is it bad that i can't really be bothered?" you scrunched your nose up, but maya smirked back again, shaking her head. maybe you were imagining it, but her posture almost seemed to loosen, as if she were relieved. you didn't ponder it long though, because the splitsecond thought faded as soon as maya spoke, and your attention diverted back to solely her.
"no, me too!" she grinned conspiratorially, "i'm glad it's not just me - i love them and everything, but we see them literally all the time, i kind of just want a quiet night in."
"well, you see me all the time - better not be getting sick of me now le tissier?" you raised an eyebrow playfully. with anyone else, maya's words might have worried you, might have played on your insecurites of being too much, too overbearing. with anyone else, your reply might've been edging on serious, might've taken every inch of your body not to let your worries seep into your voice, but this was maya. you didn't have to worry about that with her, and so your tone was light, purely joking. maya's reply confirmed as much.
"oh god, like you wouldn't believe," maya countered back with a grin, before she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out to the empty woods around you, "somebody help! this fucking stalker won't leave me alone!"
the sound echoed through the trees, and you nudged her with your shoulder, hard enough to send her stumbling, feet slipping off the path and into the muddy ditch. you laughed, before wrapping a hand around her bicep and pulling her back to walk beside you. all this time, maya's grin never wavered, and she looked up at you, eyes shining.
"you’re such a dickhead, these trainers were clean earlier."
"that's on you for wearing white shoes to the woods to be honest."
maya rolled her eyes, before calling for mocha to come out of the same mud she'd just stepped into. you loved days like this, so familiar, so comfortable, where you and maya just slipped into playful teasing. it was this easy banter, the kind that comes with years of friendship, that made hanging out with maya so, well, easy.
"seriously, though," maya's voice was softer as she looked over at you, a little shyer. "i could never get sick of you - you're different." this side of her you loved too, the warm, gentle soul, always willing to extend a hand of comfort, or an olive branch.
"i could never get sick of you either maya."
she smiled back at you, and it was like the sun got a little brighter.
---
the rest of your day off had passed similarly, with shared smiles, inside jokes, and teasing banter, until you and maya found yourself collapsed next to each other on your shared sofa. the same positions as always - you curled up against one arm, maya reclined comfortably against the other, legs outstretched.
maya picked up her book, immediately immersed, but yours remained closed on your lap. you snuck a look at her, chewing your lip in thought, replaying the day in your mind.
it had been nice - as it always was with maya. you appreciated it, the quiet time with her, where you never had to do much except exist. maya gave you that - the freedom to just be.
your musing was interrupted by the harsh buzz of maya's phone against the coffee table.
"pass me that?" maya murmured, too engrossed in her book to even look up. you reached over, not without an exaggerated groan to hint at your displeasure at being made to move. maya kicked you as you held out the phone to her.
"shut up - can you just read it to me?"
you groaned again at being given the laborious task of unlocking her phone. opening her messages though, your attention piqued a little. the text from mary was innocuous at best, but it was maya's earlier messages that caught your eye.
"well," maya looked up at you expectantly, cutting you off from your thoughts, "who was it?"
"oh uh," you internally shook yourself a little, still a little confused at the messages, "just mary, she said, uh, she'll see you tomorrow."
"oh cool, thanks y/n," maya turned back to her book with a smile, a preoccupied air clouding her words. silently, you clicked maya's phone shut and placed it down, thoughts firing. you were a little perplexed - maya was never one to turn down plans, and especially not with made up excuses. she loved getting coffee with mary; they did it all the time. or at least, you realised, they used to.
you tried to think back to the last time maya had met mary for coffee. now you thought about, it must have been a while. your schedules were jam packed, and you and maya had spent pretty much every day off recently together. first you wondered if they'd had a falling out, but from the way they were texting you dismissed it quickly.
then it occurred to you, just briefly, that maybe maya was one to turn to down plans, and maybe you just hadn't noticed it, because she never did it with you. you shook your head. that wouldn't have made any sense. the dog walk earlier had probably just been one of the errands maya had mentioned, and she'd just asked you along for company.
yeah, you thought, slowly picking up your book, that was probably it.
words of affirmation
the thoughts flickered in your head the next morning, as maya picked up an extra coffee on your way to training. they stirred a little more as you watched maya interact with mary, searching for any irregularites, but finding none. they resurfaced again over the course of several days, as you noticed maya turn down coffee, then lunch, then dinner with various teammates. all in favour of just hanging out at home.
but this was maya, you thought, so she was a homebody, so what? who were you to judge, given that usually you'd also gladly take a calm night in at your flat over a hectic night out with the girls. the thoughts faded pretty quickly after that, and by the time sunday rolled around, they were pretty much nonexistent.
your attention focused instead on the game ahead of you. as with every week, the nerves seemed to roll inside you like waves cresting over one another, instead of neatly against the shore. it was something you'd never quite managed to shake, the overwhelming feeling of stress before a match, leaving you feeling disjointed, all jagged around the edges. it was fine usually, something you'd come to deal with. you'd learnt to take those feelings and channel them into fire.
nobody's perfect though. sometimes, you needed a helping hand. and true to form, maya could always tell when. no man is an island, as they say, and there was maya, always ready to leap into those stormy waters, paddle in hand, lifejacket on.
"hey you."
"hey," you sighed, looking over at maya as she sat down heavily next to you. you could tell maya didn't need a second look to understand how you were feeling. you gave a half-heartened smile.
"sorry," you murmured, trying to shake yourself out of it, "i'm all-"
"jittery?" maya filled in, soft smile gracing her features, "yeah, i know."
you nodded begrudgingly, taking a deep breath in. you wanted to speak, to explain more, but it was as though maya sensed you couldn't quite do it. she stepped in.
"hey, you got this okay? you always do."
you opened your mouth, but maya's gaze found yours, and you found yourself believing her. you were never really one for eye contact, but something about maya made it easy. maybe it was how kind her eyes looked, how knowing; like every thought or worry you'd ever had was reflected back in them - broken down, understood, seen. maybe it was just because they were pretty.
"nerves are good, remember? they mean you want to do well," maya echoed your mantra back to you, and you listened. words always sounded better coming from her.
"i know you'll play well, because you always do. you're a great player, you're tough, you're smart, you're good. there's no one else i'd rather have next to me on the pitch. the team trusts you. i trust you."
you nodded, pulling maya in for a hug. you closed your eyes, breathing her in. her breath tickled your neck as she whispered, "and if it goes wrong, i've got your back. always."
"thanks," you smiled, though she couldn't see it, "love you."
maya nodded, pulling back with a smile. her hand lingered on your thigh as you met her eyes once again. "let's smash it."
---
you did, in fact, smash it. the game went well, a perfect result - clean sheet and a win - and right at the heart of it, was you and maya. maya and you, ever solid, ever present. she was right, as she always was.
your defensive partnership had seeded itself from the early ages, when the two of you were young, shy kids in the england youth groups. it had blossomed and strengthened through your brazen teens, and now, finally together at club level, it was a force to be reckoned with.
you were both good players individually, but your closeness off the pitch was what cemented it as brilliant. you read each other so well, it was honestly sometimes scary. sometimes it felt like maya knew what you were going to do before you did. you often didn't even have to speak, but you did anyway, because it was maya, and you liked speaking to her. any excuse for a chat.
"see? told you you'd be fine," said maya as she sidled up next to you when you left the pitch. you elbowed her side and laughed.
"just fine? did you see that sick tackle i did?"
"hmm, mine was better," maya winked, and you rolled your eyes, pushing her into the changing rooms with a loud laugh.
---
the day ended as it always did: you and maya (and mocha) on the sofa, too worn out to do much else. today though, the tv was blaring, its sounds interspersed with your laughter and commentary of the godawful show maya had turned on.
"can you believe this shit?" you laughed, turning to look at maya, "why are we watching it?" she rolled her eyes.
"because its funny, shut up."
"and because you fancy the main character." you gave maya a sly smirk, which she returned with an eyeroll.
"maybe..." then she grinned widely, "can you blame me?"
"nah, i get it."
you laughed, reclining back into the sofa. mocha gave you a disgruntled look as you pulled your feet up to rest in maya's lap, nudging him from where he lay. you turned back to the show. okay so maybe you were a little invested now. feeling eyes on you though, you looked back to realise maya hadn't done the same.
"what?" you smiled.
"nothing," if you didn't know better, you'd say maya looked a little sheepish. you weren't sure why. you gave her a questioning look, complete with raised eyebrow, "just zoned out a little."
you shrugged and nodded, half turning back to the tv. maya, however, seemed to want to say more.
"your, uh, your hair looks nice like that," she said. you tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze was back fixed on the tv.
"oh, thanks," you murmured, a little surprised. not at the compliment - maya gave you them all the time - but more at her tone. it was soft, borderline shy. you weren't sure why she was being weird.
"you should wear it down more often," maya looked back at you, and just like that her usual easy smile back, her brief awkwardness now dissipated.
"i mean i would if i could - having it up for training all the time kills my head."
"god same," maya gave an exaggerated whine, and the laughter was back, "i'm not going to have a hairline by the time i'm 25."
---
by the next morning, you barely remembered the compliment, having gone on to spend the rest of the night fixated on that stupid tv show, admittedly only to loudly debate the attractiveness of each character with maya.
it was only when you reflexively went to put your hair up that it crossed your mind again. you made pensive eye contact with yourself in the mirror, before gently placing the hairband down. no particular reason.
it seemed mary had finally managed to corral maya into getting coffee, and so she was nearly out the door by the time you headed into the kitchen for breakfast. digging around in her bag for her car keys, she looked up at you briefly, smiling in small greeting.
"you doing anything today?" she asked, and you shook your head, fully intent on just relaxing on your day off, "i'll be back in a couple hours, shall i pick up a few bits for lunch?"
"sounds good," you nodded, although your attention was very much focused on finding yourself some breakfast first.
"cool," maya shrugged on her jacket hurriedly, only pausing at the door to call back over her shoulder, "that outfit looks really good on you by the way!"
you barely even had time to look up before she was gone.
---
you'd be lying if you said the compliment didn't put a little spring in your step for the rest of the morning. you told yourself it was just the same as any old compliment, but there was a niggling feeling that it was made that much sweeter just because it came from maya. two compliments in two days - you were being spoiled.
although now you thought about it, maybe it wasn't that out of the ordinary. you'd intended to spend your free morning slothing out on the sofa, maybe catching up on the shows you'd missed, or finishing the book you'd been neglecting of late. instead, you found yourself thinking back on your many interactions with maya.
the more you thought, the more you realised just how often maya said nice things to you. for all the two of you teased and joked, you could pick out a dozen examples just this week of maya complimenting you - superficial things like your hair, your clothes, your make-up, but not just that.
on the pitch, you realised, she would frequently offer words of appreciation, calling out that you'd done well in a drill as she ran past you, patting you on the back as she congratulated you on a tackle, a block, a pass. even beyond that, just yesterday in an interview she'd said you were her favourite person to play with. the day before that she'd mentioned how much she loved being around you.
the moments, all seemingly inocuous at the time, now seemed to pile up before your eyes. linking them all together was the warm feeling you felt whenever she'd say something, and the soft smile she'd offer in return. you sipped your coffee slowly, a startling thought dawning on you - were you a compliment whore?
with this newfound information about yourself, you tried to think of compliments you'd been given by others, but surprisingly came up short. with a jolt, you realised you didn't remember because in all honesty, you didn't really care. it was only maya's opinion that mattered.
this realisation was somewhat startling, and you didn't quite know what to do with it. you knew from past experience that you often had a tendency to come up with wild fantasies, to see things that weren't quite there when it came to romance. you shut down the thoughts, refused to think about what it might mean. maya was your best friend, of course you wanted her to think highly of you. it didn't mean anything.
you pushed the thoughts away, locking them up for a rainy day. this is why you shouldn't be left alone - you started thinking. as maya had joked to you many times before; that was dangerous.
the door opened, and maya appeared, laden with bags.
"this doesn't look like just 'a few bits', maya," you grinned, watching her struggle for a second before standing to help.
"shut up," she said, watching as you took the, admittedly heavy, bags and placed them on the counter. she walked past you, squeezing your upper arm in the process, "nice biceps."
you made a playful show of flexing them, and tried not to think about the warm feeling that swelled up inside you. the realisation that you'd do pretty much anything to get her to compliment you again hit you like a slap to the face.
physical touch
thoughts and feelings continued to rattle around inside you for the next few days. now that you'd opened the floodgates, it was getting harder and harder to deny the brewing thoughts that accompanied every single thing maya did. you tried endlessly to push them back down, adamant that you just saw her as a friend. and it worked, if only for a little while.
the thing is, the harder you tried, the more you denied it, maya had this uncanny way of worming her way back into your heart. you supposed it was a side effect of her being just so, well, perfect.
you told yourself it was only because she was your best friend, your, strictly platonic, soulmate. these past few weeks however, try as you might, you couldn't deny that, just maybe, you were developing a crush.
maybe you had been for a while.
you tried to ignore it, but every day you registered a new thing that dragged you down a little deeper. maya could make you smile by just being around you. maya could say exactly what you needed to hear. every word was like a breath of fresh air, every look was warm sunlight, and every touch was a spark of electricity.
and, as you'd recently realised, there was a lot of touching. you and maya were touchy friends, the kind who had no qualms about casual embraces or friendly physicality. you'd never noticed it before, probably because it had never meant anything before, but lately you noticed just how frequently maya sought out your touch.
the first time you'd really registered it, you'd been out at a bar with the girls, celebrating the latest win. you hadn't quite realised the extent of your feelings, still in the early phases of filtering through what they all meant, and steadfastly denying most of them.
the air was warm and stuffy, contributing to that heady feeling of the alcohol catching up with you. you leant against the bar, watching the girls gathered together in a booth, their raucous laughter audible even from where you stood. you tried to ignore how your eyes unconsciously shifted back over to maya, or how her laughter seemed to stand out as louder than the rest.
your thoughts were cut off by a rough hand grazing your waist. you shifted out of the stranger's grasp, but there wasn't much leeway at the packed bar.
"you here alone, sweetheart?" you took another small step back as the man turned to you. his heavy scent of beer and sweat clung in the air, almost suffocating.
"no, i'm with friends, thanks," you muttered, trying to make eye contact with the bartender so you could get your drinks and go.
"i'm sure they wouldn't mind if you found some other company..." his rough hand reached out to touch your hand, and you grimaced, pulling away.
"i'm okay thanks."
"at least let a guy buy a pretty girl a drink."
you were just considering leaving the bar altogether when you felt another arm slink around your waist. this one, however, was soft and slight, and welcome. you sank backwards, letting the familiar smell of vanilla shampoo envelope you.
"she's already got one, thank you." maya's voice was firm, and you let her drag you away, back to the table. she passed you a drink, her arm still comfortably tight around your waist.
"you okay?" she asked, voice low and concerned, as you both sank into your seats. you nodded, trying to regain a bit of clarity.
"yeah thanks, fucking creep," you shot a quick glance over to the bar, where the guy still remained, before looking back into maya's concerned eyes and nodding again, "thanks for the drink."
"no problem - just, stay with me for the rest of the night, yeah?" you nodded, having no intention of doing any different. maya's expression flickered protectively, making her eyes look several shades darker.
it was only a little later, when you were halfway through your drink and had all but forgotten your vile encounter, that you registered that maya still hadn't moved her arm. you were unaware if she even knew herself, the both of you now comfortably drunk. the two of you were pressed up against one another in the booth, her fingers stroking absentmindedly at where your shirt had ridden up. an unbidden shiver ran through you, your sudden awareness making each touch feel like a static shock.
"you okay?" maya must have noticed the way you tensed up, because she turned to you, lazy smile clouded with inebriety. you could only nod. shaking yourself internally, you resolved yourself to dealing with your feelings tomorrow, and sank back into her. you leant heavily into her, missing the way her soft smile grew as you did. maya didn't move her hand all night.
when you woke the next morning, it was to a headache and hazy memories of the early hours. you dragged yourself to lie on the sofa, only after downing some water and painkillers.
maya joined you some time later, looking equally worse for wear. she sluggishly filled her water bottle, before trudging over to the sofa.
"i knew those jagers were a bad move," she groaned.
"i distinctly remember you saying the complete opposite last night," you laughed, opening your arms for her. you didn't think much of it as you did, but when maya collapsed on top of you for a hug, the memories of last night flooded back. you couldn't argue with the warmth that flooded your body as maya nestled on top of you. it was time to accept that you felt more for her than any friend should.
"you should've stopped me," she groaned into your chest, her arms wriggling their way around your back. you swallowed, before deciding, perhaps stupidly, to just give into it. you'd deal with the consequences of falling for her later.
"i tried! you called me boring then bought another round," you laughed, your hand coming up to rest on her back.
"oops," you felt maya grin into your chest, "what are you watching?"
"just shitty tv," you replied, "wanna change it?"
"nah, i'm okay," her reply was muffled, and you nodded, stroking her back softly. as you felt maya's breathing even out, you had a sinking feeling that there was no going back now.
---
from then, it was like a switch had been flicked. whereas before, you'd barely noticed all maya's hugs and touches, now, each one seared itself permanently into your brain - and your skin.
some of the touches were accidental, you assumed, maya brushing up against you as she walked past, or her thigh pressed up against yours as you sat together in the changing room.
others were obviously intentional - maya playing with your hair as you lay on the sofa, or placing a casual arm around your shoulder during training, maya leaning her head on your shoulder during team talks, or taking your hand to drag you around behind her. and of course, the most frequent of all, the hugs that punctuated pretty much every single interaction you had.
it would be a lie to say you didn't enjoy it, but now that you'd had to accept why each touch meant a little more, sometimes it bordered on some kind of glorious torture.
there were also other instances, where you were unsure if maya even meant the touches or not, her actions hanging precariously in the balance between conscious and absentminded. as her hand grazed the small of your back for the countless time that morning though, you were starting to suspect it wasn't all entirely accidental.
this gave way to another problem though, in that it was getting harder and harder for you to deal with, without melting each time she so much as touched you, or breathed in your direction.
it didn't help that you were starting to notice how naturally flirtatious maya could be. if you weren't certain that maya didn't have an evil bone in her body, you'd almost believe she was doing it on purpose. luckily, you knew maya was absolutely unaware of her nature, and this was just something she did with everyone. sucks for you.
the unfortunate thing about having a crush on your best friend is that you find yourself accidentally staring at them far too often. it was no surprise, then, that a lot of your free time was allocated to observing maya. any time you weren't sneaking glances at her you spent thinking of ways to make it not obvious that you were sneaking glances at her.
okay, so yes, you definitely needed to get over her, but you could allow yourself some indugences, right?
the thing was, you were starting to observe new things about maya. firstly, the way she always threw her head back when she laughed, properly laughed. secondly, the way she'd play with her ring whenever she was either nervous, or bored. and thirdly, that maya was not actually a naturally flirtatious person.
contrary to what you'd been firmly telling yourself, maya was not like this with everyone. sure she was still touchy, but the longer you watched, the more you noticed the differences in how she acted with the others, and how she acted with you.
---
the uncharacteristic spring heat clung in the afternoon air around you, disturbed only by the occasional breeze. you paused your run down the field, sensing that maya had the play under control, and had gone herself. you dropped back slightly to cover her, watching her recieve the ball and expertly pass it on to lucia, who was straight through on goal. you didn't need to hear the way the crowd exploded to know she'd scored.
you pumped your fist and watched as the girls further upfield swarmed one another, but even from where you stood you could pick out maya amongst them. you took note of the way she hugged lucia, the way she clapped the other girls on the back, filed the images away in your mind.
maya jogged back towards you, so you grinned and held out a hand to congratulate her on the assist. you noted the way her smooth palm clasped yours, and the firmness of her grasp as she pulled you into her. you'd seen how she'd hugged the others, firm and fast, clapping them twice on the back before pulling away.
the way she hugged you, the way your body slid into hers, just seemed different. this was steady, grounding. her arms seemed to envelope you, slotting you gently into place, and when she pulled away her hands lingered, fingers smoothing out your shirt collar, her touch feather-soft. it seemed like more.
you tried to ignore it, really you did, but when the final whistle blew and her hand found yours, you couldn't help but wonder. you compared the way she congratulated the others on the win, all friendly grins and joking pushes. sure, she did that with you too, but with you it always seemed a little softer, a little longer. you started to wonder if all those casual touches you'd labelled as accidental were anything but. maya didn't seem to do that with anyone else.
you must've been reading too much into it, you eventually decided. maya was probably just more relaxed around you since you were best friends. you were just getting ahead of yourself, thoughts clouded by your unhelpful crush, seeing things you wanted to see. surely.
that's what you told yourself as maya sat next to you in the changing room, her fingers brushing your thigh.
gift giving
you sighed, running your hand down your face. your thoughts had been running hard and fast since the game yesterday, and you were desperate to think of anything else. you'd spent the day trying to busy yourself, but it was a difficult feat given that you and maya had still spent the day joined at the hip.
it had been hard to not think about it when you walked the dog together and her arm kept bumping up against yours. it had been hard when you'd gone out for lunch and she'd loaded you with covert compliments. it had been even harder when she'd bought you a coffee, completely unprompted, your order memorised to a tee.
as much as you loved spending time with maya, you were somewhat grateful that she'd since headed to the shops alone, giving you a slight reprieve. it couldn't be healthy, reading far too much into situations that were clearly just based off years of friendship.
"i'm home!" the shout echoed around the flat, and you swivelled in your seat with a smile that you just couldn't help. maya dumped the bags then padded towards you. "close your eyes, i got you a present."
"should i be worried?" knowing maya she was probably about to put something absolutely ridiculous in your hands, but you dutifully did as she asked anyway.
you felt the crinkle of packaging as your hands closed around the mystery item. you opened your eyes cautiously, but your heart melted a little as you saw a packet of your favourite sweets.
"for me?" you asked, slightly confused. maya nodded, eyes sparkling, "aw thanks," your voice was genuine, if a little perplexed, "uh, why?"
maya shrugged, flopping down onto the sofa next to you, "why not?"
you smiled, glad maya couldn't see you blush. pulling the packet open, you held it out to maya, who popped one into her mouth, then leant her head against your shoulder.
---
it was a few days later that you realised the sweets weren't an isolated incident. in the past week alone she'd brought home coffee for you (three times), some chocolate you liked (twice), a new waterbottle (yours was always leaking and it was apparently 'doing her head in'), a mug that she thought you'd like, and a small stuffed crab that she said reminded her of you (that one had definitely been a dig, but you chose to ignore it). for a second you had a worry that you'd forgotten your own birthday.
it seemed like every time maya left the house, she came back with some little snack that she knew you liked, or some trinket that 'made her think of you'. she was like a fucking magpie.
you said as much to mary at lunch, maya having just deposited her protein bar that she 'didn't want' in your lap. it just so happened to be your favourite flavour.
"sorry, am i hearing things, or are you complaining about getting free food?"
"i'm not complaining! i'm just... confused," in fairness, you weren't even sure what you were confused about. mostly you just wanted to vent about your crush - without actually having to own up to the whole crush thing. "and it's not just food! yesterday we walked the dog on the beach and she kept collecting pretty stones for me,"
"well, you know, it's maya, she's not much of a talker."
"what? maya talks all the time," you looked at mary incredulously. maya had literally just been chatting her ear off.
"no, i mean she's not much of a talker," she gave you a knowing look, and you just stared back, even more confused now. mary rolled her eyes, "about her feelings, idiot."
"what's that got to do with anything?"
"god, the pair of you are as thick as each other." mary slapped your shoulder and then rose from her seat, leaving you staring after her, more lost than ever.
---
it was only when maya tried to pay for your dinner the next day, that you wondered if mary was suggesting that maya had feelings for you. you tried not to even entertain the thought, because regardless of how much you wanted it to be true, you knew it couldn't, wouldn't end well.
the smallest part of you, the sensible part, the part not yet utterly consumed by all things maya, knew that you'd only be getting your hopes up. as much as it hurt to pine after maya like this, any sort of rejection would hurt far, far more. and so, you ignored and dismissed it. there was no way that someone like maya could ever fall for someone like you.
maya's actions were purely platonic, you decided. she was a good friend, and that was the end of it. that was what you convinced yourself, that was what you repeated as a mantra every time you looked at the little crab toy that maya had placed beside your bed, 'to keep you company'.
that was what you tried your best to believe when maya came into the kitchen the next day, hands behind her back. you looked up from cooking with a soft smile and a raised eyebrow. she looked back at you, almost shyly.
"i, uh, i thought you might like these," maya didn't make eye contact with you as she thrust a modest, yet beautiful, bunch of daffodils towards you. your heart melted, and you tried desperately to not let your mind run away with itself. still though, you couldn't help it. maybe, just maybe, maya felt something for you too.
your mind lit up with possibilities, with fantasies, with dreams. maybe this was the moment you'd dreamed of. maybe she was about to confess, to ask you on a date, maybe-
"you know, for the flat," maya said hurriedly. maybe not, "the shop was uh, they were going to bin them so they were on clearance, they might be a bit manky," maya trailed off, still avoiding eye contact.
you tried not to let yourself get disappointed. this was exactly why you shouldn't get head of yourself. reaching out to take them, you smiled and inspected them. there didn't seem anything wrong with them at all.
"no, they're lovely," the emotion crept into your voice despite yourself, and you had to clear your throat, "uh, for the flat - they'll look lovely in the flat."
maya smiled and met your eyes, properly this time. for a split second the shyness was gone, just pure, honest maya. then she swallowed, turned, and hurried out the room.
acts of service
the thing about trying to get over maya, was that she made it so fucking difficult. how were you meant to forget about someone who treated you so perfectly, who could do no wrong, who regularly went out of their way to do things for you? how were you supposed to do anything other than fall in love?
so you stopped denying it, and instead you justified it. you let the full delusion of falling for your best friend overtake you, and let maya's endless perfection drag you deeper and deeper each day.
now that you'd accepted maya didn't see you like that, every day felt like a constant bombardment of kind gestures. the worst part was, you could never ever hate it. that was the thing with maya - she didn't even realise how good she was.
and so, you did the only thing you knew how to. you started to withdraw from maya. not majorly, not enough that she would notice, of course, just enough distance to give yourself a little time to get your head straight.
distance had never really factored into your close friendship before though, and maya was unwavering in her presence. it was like she had a sixth sense for when there was something weighing on you, and she made it her mission to help ease that load.
"hey, i made you a cuppa," maya knocked lightly on your open door and poked her head around. you couldn't help but smile genuinely at the gesture, "i'm doing some washing, you want me to do yours too?"
"oh, thank you, is that okay?" you asked hesitantly, and maya nodded. you slid off your bed and began to gather the dirty washing that lay strewn across your floor. you were never too great at keeping your room tidy on the best of days, but whenever your mind ran away from you, it was always the first thing to deteriorate. of course, maya knew this.
"yeah course," maya placed the tea down on your bedside table, then perched in her usual position on your bed to watch you. "you okay?"
there was a slight waver in her voice, and you could read her so well that you immediately recognised it as concern, laced with a tiny bit of anxiety. you knew maya, knew her mind would worry. you didn't want her to blame herself, and instantly you felt bad.
arms now laden with clothes, you straightened and nodded, "yeah sorry, just tired." then, seeing the soft smile on maya's face, you couldn't keep it up much longer, "i'm coming in now anyway, you want to watch something?"
maya smiled, taking the clothes from you, "sounds good, give me five minutes!"
sighing, you watched her leave. well, your plan didn't last long. picking up the tea, you followed her into the living room. distance clearly wasn't going to work.
---
"hey, maya?" you called hurriedly, rummaging through your cupboard. she hummed in response, "have you seen my-"
"your boots?" maya appeared in the doorway, holding out your shoes with a smirk, "they were dirty as hell so i cleaned them for you."
"oh," you blushed, "thank you," you took them from her, almost reverently. she was just too good for you.
"now let's go - we're gonna be late!"
you followed her out the door, taking a deep breath in. you were already stressed, you had so much to do, and if maya was going to be this sweet to you all day, you were worried you might just keel over and die.
---
"i'll make dinner tonight, okay?"
you nodded, peeling off your soaked through socks with a wince. maya sat next to you in the changing room, already showered and dressed, her hand placed comfortingly on your thigh. training, as expected, had been awful, it was cold, wet, and your mind had been occupied. you knew you'd played crap, but coach had so kindly reminded you multiple times, leaving you to run an extra few laps once training was done.
you only had yourself to blame. things with maya were just piling up, everything else seemed to be going wrong, and it was taking all your effort to keep yourself sane without upsetting her. distance might've been the easy way out, but there wasn't a chance in hell that you'd do anything to make maya feel guilty, or worried.
all you wanted was to have a warm shower, go home and collapse on the sofa, preferably next to maya. unfortunately, your agent had other plans, and you were required at some media thing before you could relax. you sighed at the thought. you had so much to do this weekend too, plus your room needed cleaning, the mess having steadily piled up from the stress of it all.
and now here was maya, ever thoughtful, offering to cook dinner, even though it was your turn tonight. she was so sweet, you could almost cry. you took a deep breath, turning to look at her.
"you're the best maya." she smiled in response, and squeezed your thigh, before standing.
"i know, now go shower, you look like shit."
only maya could pull a laugh out of you at times like this. you nodded, and dragged yourself dutifully to the shower, wishing you could fast forward the next two hours so you could just go home.
---
the media stuff, as expected, had been shit. sure, some people enjoyed that kind of thing, but to you it felt like being paraded around like a dancing bear, just being poked and prodded with sticks. okay, maybe you were exagerrating, but today had just been really, really shitty, and you wanted to go home.
you fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the rain, before finally, thankfully, managing to push the door open. you stepped inside, soaking in the warmth, and the smell of maya's cooking. your eyes adjusted to the low, orange light, and you felt yourself relax almost immediately.
there was low music coming from the kitchen, and you could hear maya humming gently along. hoisting your heavy bag a little further up your shoulder, you elbowed open your bedroom door, before stopping in your tracks.
your eyes widened as you took in your room - what had earlier resembled a bomb site now looked cleaner than you'd ever seen it. there were even candles lit on the desk, filling the room with flickering shadow and the comforting smell of vanilla. maya's vanilla.
you heard hurried footsteps behind you, before you felt maya come to a stop behind you. you couldn't quite bring yourself to turn around, for fear of her seeing the emotion threatening to spill out of your eyes at such a small, but meaningful, gesture.
"i, um, i tidied your room for you," maya sounded tentative, nervous even. she rushed to continue. "i just knew you'd had a rough day and i know your room gets messy when you're stressed so i just wanted to help, i hope you don't mind," you didn't know what to say, it was so small, but it felt like the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for you.
when you didn't reply maya spoke again, quieter this time, "i'm sorry, did i do the wrong thing?"
at maya's apology, you spun to face her, rapidly shaking your head.
"no, maya, i- thank you," you rushed to placate her, not wanting her to worry. your voice was choked, full of feeling. you pulled her into a hug, and she breathed an audible sigh of relief, as though she had been expecting you to be angry.
you held on tighter than you should've. you couldn't think of any other way to convey your thanks. it was such a tiny gesture, but to you, it meant everything. after such an awful day, maya had gone out of her way just to make things a little lighter. something she knew you struggled with when you were stressed, and she'd just helped you like it was nothing. you couldn't put it into words.
you'd never felt so loved.
you paused, pulling out of the hug, deep in thought, because that was exactly it. you thought back to why you were so desperate to get over maya, driven by fear of repeating the past, full of failed relationships and heartbreak.
before, in relationships, you'd always been filled with doubt. they'd said the words, sure, but how were you ever meant to be certain that they meant them? you'd keep yourself awake at night, worrying if they were serious, until either they proved you right, or your insecurites drove them away.
but here, with maya, it felt different. all that doubt, all that insecurity, you realised you've never felt like that with maya. all of a sudden, and with some certainty, you realised you've known for quite some time.
you think back to all the gifts, all the touches, all the time and the looks, the actions and the words, and you realise there's never been any lingering doubt. maya has shown you time and time again that she loves you. now you had some catching up to do.
"hey maya?" she hums, already moving to leave your room. ordinarily, you would never have been this bold, this confident. ordinarily, you would've been twisting your fingers in anxiety, stuttering out the words. right now, however, you had never been so sure.
"i love you too."
you've said those words countless times to her, but you know it's different now. you can tell maya can tell from the tone of your voice too, because when she looks up at you there's no confusion, only eyes swimming with hope, and pure, deep, boundless affection.
you reach out and pull her towards you, so your faces are barely inches apart. her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes.
"i um, i didn't say-" her voice is low and hoarse, and she cuts herself off, because you both know its not true. tension ripples around you, until you can't stand it. when her eyes flicker down a second time, you close the gap. her lips are soft, and she lets out a pleased little gasp as you kiss her softly.
"yeah, you did," you smile, and maya returns it, "you say it everyday."
this is actually so shit i'm sorry, the idea's been in my drafts for literal months, i wanted to do it justice bc mlt deserves all the love but i hate like at least half of this lmao it got so repetitive i'm sorry
all love, soph xx
#yes i know love languages are a scam designed by a misogynist to force women into subservient marriages#but its a good format for a fic#i hope#maya le tissier x reader#woso x reader#muwfc x reader#maya le tissier imagine#maya le tissier
592 notes
·
View notes
Text
@steddielovemonth Day 12: Love is... The tea he brings me without prompt when I’m sick (Prompt by anon)
wc: 740 | Rated: G | cw: None
Tags: Sick Fic, Eddie is Being a Total Shit, Wayne Munson, Care Giving Steve Harrington
A Case of the Sniffles
Steve knows that Eddie is sick when he knocks on the Munson’s door, its accompanying flyscreen rattling under his knuckles.
“I’ve grown weak during the night,” Eddie had informed during a too-early-for-the-both-of-them phone call, “Come quickly, my dearest King. For I fear I shan’t make it to sundown.”
But, considering the expression Wayne greets him with, Steve begins to think that Eddie’s dramatics weren’t just a ploy to get him over here.
“You visitin’ Ed?” Wayne asks, throwing his work jacket over his shoulder in haste as he steps over the threshold.
“He called me,” Steve supplies, earning the rarest of laughs from the permanently grumpy elder Munson.
But Wayne quickly stops, clearing his throat and feigning seriousness. And by the look of the hurried glance he gives his truck, Steve suspects the man is happy to be relieved of caring for what sounds like the world’s biggest crybaby.
“Good luck, kid,” Wayne says, patting Steve on the back before quickly ducking his head back in the door, “Eddie! Steve’s here for ya! There’s chicken soup leftover in the fridge!”
There’s an unintelligible whining sound from inside that leaves Wayne wincing as he ventures down the front concrete slab steps.
Steve swears the man dashes to his truck before he can even get out a goodbye.
He heads inside, sighing as he opens the front door.
It creeks away as he steps over the threshold, the sound alerting Eddie to his presence. His boyfriend's dishevelled form lifts slightly from his sick bed on the couch where he is surrounded by tissues and crochet blankets. The coffee table is even more crowded than usual, littered with discarded cups and mugs. Typically Wayne would flip out about this mess but he’s already left the place for dust.
“Steve,” Eddie rasps, raising a limp hand before letting it fall, “Come closer. I fear the light is fading.”
But Steve just snorts a laugh and heads for the kitchen.
“Eds, you have a bad case of the sniffles.”
“I am ill!” Eddie argues, calling after him with complete clarity.
He looks back to find his couch-ridden boyfriend flapping back his blanket, sending a cascade of used tissues flying onto the floor. Eddie pouts, frowning back at him like a disgruntled kitten.
“Just…” Steve begins, reaching for a clean coffee mug on the dish rack, “Give me a minute to fix you something.”
“What is it?”
Again, Eddie’s voice doesn’t have an ounce of sickness behind it.
Steve rolls his eyes, “Just trust me, okay?”
There’s a fussy grunt but Eddie flops back down on the couch without any more protesting, which thankfully gives Steve enough time to locate the teabags, boil the electric kettle and add a dollop of honey to the mug. He makes quick work of fixing a cup of tea, setting it down after making room on the coffee table.
“Drink,” he commands, nodding to the cup.
Eddie grumbles, side-eyeing the mug.
“What is it?” he asks tentatively, folding his arms underneath his readjusted blankets.
“Tea with honey,” Steve explains, lowering onto the edge of the couch.
Eddie falls silent for a long moment, very obviously stifling a smile despite otherwise not looking like he is about to budge an inch to sit up.
“Can you hold the mug for me?” he asks, with a smile that appears just as mischievous as his bright and sunny regular self.
“Fine,” Steve relents.
And honestly? Up close, Eddie does look sick. Though still not enough to warrant the theatrics.
His skin is paler than usual, his nose reddened like he has been out in the snow too long. His hair is a little greasy too as his bangs stick out every which way, making him look like what Steve assumes the townsfolk of Hawkins were thinking of months back when everyone was convinced Eddie was a wild criminal.
They just never got a look at Eddie's impossibly cute dimples...
Steve picks up the mug and gestures for Eddie to sit – surely he can manage it. And his partner does so, even though he grumbles and gripes all the way.
Eddie gulps back god knows what, all gross and throaty before puckering his lips.
“Kisses?” he requests, sniffling.
“Alright,” Steve shrugs.
He leans forward to press a quick kiss to his boyfriend's lips, earning a contented hum as he pulls back.
“Thanks for the tea,” Eddie smiles, taking the mug in his cold hands.
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wakey Wakey

Media The Artful Dodger
Character Jack Dawkins
Couple Jack X Reader
Rating SMUT AFAFAF!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I sat on my bed flicking through my book, the fire burning bright enough to light my room, the house quiet and content my family gone for travelling for at least a few weeks. A storm was overhead battering everything in its wake, the darkness of the storm and of the night coming together to provide a dark void of endless night.
I perked up a little as I heard a knock.
For a moment I was frightened as to what could have caused such a sound, but I looked around my room and soon enough jumped! as I saw someone at my balcony door.
But I knew who it was, so I fixed my nightie and rolled my eyes taking a candle over and opening the door the sounds of rain flooding in, as he stood there soaked though.
"Hello."
"Hello, you fancy a bit of brain surgery?" Jack smirked as he came into my room,
"Is this what you think flirting is?" I sighed,
He was sheepish for a moment "...yeah,"
"Come on, take your clothes off," I said going to throw another log on the fire,
"Ohh... I didn't think it was gonna work that well?" He smirked eagerly getting his jacket off,
"You're soaked if you don't take them off you'll get sick," I told him, grabbing a towel from my linen cupboard and throwing it at his head,
"Thank you y/n." He sighed, he stripped the rest of his clothes off and wrapped the towel around himself, so I took his clothes and set them on the clothes horse to dry,
"Come sit by the fire," I told him as I set my kettle on its rack letting the fire heat the water, he nodded and came over, sitting on the sofa by the fire wrapped up in the towel, Once the water boiled I poured him some hot tea, and handed it over
"Ooohh thanks." he smiled sipping to warm his insides,
"You're welcome," I smiled going and fetching another towel "So? what brings you to my humble abode then Dr Dawkins?"
"Well, I know your family is gone-" He began but stopped short as I threw my towel over his head using it to dry his still dripping hair "Ohh thank you, But I know they gone so I figured I'd come to keep you company,"
"Thanks very kind of you Jack," I smiled taking the towel off his head and kissing his cheek.
"Well, I have to be nice to my fiance don't I?"
"You should be nice yes." I laughed,
"So... I've been thinking."
"Ohh dear, don't think too much now Jack you'll give yourself a headache."
"Very funny. but seriously, I've been thinking."
"About?" I asked sitting in my chair,
"I should really make the time to come up and see you more often, I feel bad when I don't."
"It's fine Jack I know your busy working."
"I know but, I don't like leaving you all alone so long," he said,
"That's very sweet," I smiled
"You'd like to spend time with me?"
"If I didn't want to Jack I'd have left you out in the rain." I chuckled, "Also my family isn't here why didn't you just use the front door?"
"... Hu, Strangely that thought had not occurred to me."
"Silly boy,"
"I know," He yawned "Ummm You've made it far too cosy in here. I'm getting sleepy."
"My apologies for having a cosy bedroom."
"You mind if I stay tonight?"
"Well..." I began, "You really shouldn't, but you are all warm and dry I send you back out you're just going to get all wet again." I sighed, "Alright,"
"Can I stay... in your bed?" he made eye contact with a sweet smile
"Alright," I rolled my eyes playfully
"Could maybe..."
"Yes, Jack?"
"....Could we cuddle?"
"Alright." I rolled my eyes a little but moved over to the sofa and cuddled him laying my head on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck, he smiled down at me and wrapped his arms around me too,
"Umm... My dearest y/n." He cooed, "How I wish this rain would never end, so I may remain in your arms longer."
"Well, we shall just have to savour the rain."
"I shall savour every drop" He smiled giving my lips a gentle soft kiss, I smiled and gave him a gentle kiss back before we cuddled up again,
"You smell nice,"
"Do I?"
"Umm," I nodded,
"I'm pleased I could be pleasant to you dearest." He yawned,
"Come on Dr Dawkins. Bedtime." I told him getting up and offering my hand he happily took it leaving his towel on the clothes horse with his clothes and I took him to my bed, I took my book away and helped him into bed plumping the pillow and tucking him in, he yawned very comfortably
"Can you sleep with me?"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I smiled climbing in too and nuzzling up to him so we could cuddle with him holding me close our noses touching,
"Y/n?"
"Yes, Jack?"
"Can I fall asleep in your arms tonight?"
"Of course," I smiled wrapping my arms around him too, "Goodnight Jack,"
"Goodnight Y/n." He smiled pressing one final kiss to my lips before with a few happy sighs and shifts we gently drifted away to sleep.
I woke up listening to the rain still attacking the house, but I knew it was early morning, I softly opened my eyes seeing Jack still deep in his sleep so I pressed a kiss to his forehead and carefully climbed out the bed doing my best not to disturb him, I went across my room making sure to keep the fire burning to keep the room warm, I checked his clothes and they where to dry so I took them and folded them on the table at the end of my bed for him, I did want breakfast but I didn't want to make any till he was up, so I made myself a tea on the fire's flames and paced my balcony windows as I sipped it.
He grumbled a little so I turned and noticed him half asleep running his hands over the bed and looking for me
"Good Morning," I cooed
He sat up not even opening his eyes, yawning for a good few seconds and scratching his messy bedhead "Morning dearest." he Yawned
"Ohh my, that was a big yawn."
"I'm tired." he pouts
"Aww well stay a few more minutes in bed if you like?"
"No, I'm up. Just about," he said rubbing his neck "You sleep okay?"
"I always do when you're here."
he blushed a little, "Yeah I always sleep better with you too."
I smiled setting my tea down and running back to bed jumping on him and pushing him onto my mattress for a cuddle, he laughed at me but wrapped his arms around me anyway "Breakfast?"
"I am hungry,"
"Good, I'll go make breakfast." I smiled patting his chest before I tried to get up but he pulled me back "Whoa... Hello" I laughed at the surprise of being back against his nose
"Hello," He smiled giving me a sweet kiss "Now you can go."
"Silly boy." I giggled getting up and heading out of my room down to the kitchen, I made some hashbrowns, some eggs, and some toast and got a big jug of orange juice taking it all upstairs. When I returned Jack was exactly where I left him clearly fighting with himself on whether he was going to go back to sleep or wake up, "Breakfast." I smiled setting it on the table.
"You're an angel." He smiled climbing out of bed and rubbing his eyes as he walked across to the table "Thank you Y/n" he smiled kissing my cheek as he made himself a plate and a large glass of juice, we sat together and ate breakfast or well I nibbled and he consumed it as if he hasn't been fed in a week,
"Peckish?" I laughed
"I don't often eat breakfast, don't have time to make it or if I do I get called off for something else. It's nice to sit down and have breakfast, especially with you,"
"That's sweet Jack, well once we're married I'll make sure you get breakfast every day before you leave for work."
"You will?"
"Course got to keep the doctor fed."
"You're too good to me," he winked sipping his juice,
Once breakfast was done I returned it to the kitchen and when I got back he was yawning
"Ummm I needed a nap."
"A nap? You just woke up!" I laughed "I think they've got you working too hard if you're like this." I laughed,
"I can't help it, your place is so cosy. Plus the rain makes me sleepy."
"Alright,"
I took his hand and took him back to bed, I gave him an extra couple of pillows and even an extra blanket tucking him in tight and kissing him on the head "There, That nice?"
"That's lovely," He blushed a little making himself cosy "Can I have a cuddle?"
"No, because then I'll fall asleep."
"Please dearest?"
I rolled my eyes a moment but crawled into bed and sat tapping my thigh, he happily moved and laid his head in my lap with a wide smile, I softly began to pet his hair taking my book from the table and reading to him, I know he struggles with his reading so I like to read to him sometimes let him just shut his eyes and listen and I know he likes it too as already he began to drift away, so once I knew he was asleep I kissed his little head and let him rest.
I went and got dressed into one of my little day dresses that was comfy for a rainy day, I went to my desk and grabbed some paper writing some letters and notes that I needed to get working with.
Eventually, he sat up, "Humm?"
"Ohh Hello again." I laughed,
"Hello, Dearest."
"Hello, Jack."
"How long was I asleep?"
"Uhhhh?" I pondered taking his watch from the table, "An hour."
"An Hour! Ohh sorry,"
"It's alright Jack you've been busy working I wanted to let you sleep." I smiled as I wrote with my fountain pen, He smiled and moved getting his pants and shirt on coming over as he snapped his suspenders on he came and sat beside me
"What are you writing?"
"Just letters."
"Alright," he smiled as we sat together for a good while "You're so sweet and beautiful you know that?"
"Aww thank you Jack, you're very sweet and handsome too"
"Can we have a cuddle?"
"That would be lovely," I smiled
we both moved closer and closer until he laid his head in my lap again,
"Cosy Jack?"
"Yep."
"Alright" I laughed getting on with my work petting his hair as I worked humming to myself a little I finished up after a while of writing until I noticed his little wheezes "Jack..."
"Mmm?" He groaned nuzzling closer and almost purring as had fallen asleep,
"Awww such a sleepy boy" I cooed "Wakey Wakey..."
He jumped a little sitting up as he realized he had fallen asleep on my lap, "Humm? ohh..." He sighed "Sorry."
"You are so sleepy today Jack, Dr sneed been working you too hard?"
"A little," He yawned "It would help if he did some work sometime."
"aww you poor thing,"
"Didn't help I've been getting up early these last few days," He cooed, "And you're just so very cosy and cuddly it just makes me so happy. I love you so much Y/n."
"Aww, I love you too Jack." I smiled kissing his cheek,
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course,"
"When we get married... do you want to have children?"
I smiled at his question, "I would, would you?"
"I very much would, How many?"
"Three." I smiled, "Two girls and a boy."
he chuckled, "I think that would be lovely,"
"Anything else? when we get married?"
"A cute little house... with a garden."
"I'd like that Jack, and maybe a little dog for the children to play with."
"A very cute little dog." He smiled, "So I can wake up every morning give my sweet wife a kiss, pet the dog, go down and eat breakfast looking out to the garden and send the kids to school before I head to work."
"That sounds like the most beautiful morning,"
"I know it will be" He smiled,
"Do you think... I could cuddle in your lap some more?"
"No more lap jack you'll go back to sleep."
"Can you sit on my lap then y/n?" he asked, "Does my lap look better?"
I rolled my eyes a little and moved to sit myself on his leg so he could wrap his arms around me and my back against his chest, he chuckled and adjusted me a little so we were both cosy, and after a while he gave my shoulder a kiss
"I can't wait till you're mine dearest."
"I can't wait either," I smiled,
He then pressed one kiss to my neck, I blushed a little but didn't move, so he tightened his grip on me a little hugging me a little tighter and kissing my neck again only one little kiss but enough to make me feel so happy inside, He then took my hand in his and whispered in my ear "Can I stay with you today?"
"You're welcome to stay Jack, as long as you like."
he smiled a little and stroked my hair "I like you sat here."
"Why?"
"I get to hold you so close." He smiled bringing his face and lips into my neck he gently blew air across my skin before slowly pressing small kisses to my neck "Your skin is so soft" he whispered and I couldn't control my playful giggles he merely continued his kisses so slowly and calculated waiting patiently between each one, his kisses slowly grew more intense until as he kissed my neck his teeth graced my skin, not enough to bite me but enough to make me feel his teeth, he repeated this just slow soft kisses occasionally tenderizing my skin by gracing his teeth on it "Hmmm... do you like when I'm this close to you?" he whispered slyly
"I do," I admit,
He chuckled with a familiar sly grin, he continued his kisses now starting little nibbles on my skin pressing his teeth more meaningfully "Do you like these little nibbles on your soft lovely neck? Hmm?" He whispered
"I do," I admit,
"Just one bite dearest?" he pleads running his nose across my neck before he continues his kisses and nibbles
"Little ones," I whispered back,
He smirked and continued his bites gently barely anything between his kisses and nibbles which were getting very intense "You enjoying them? Hmm? Umm so soft... so sweet." He asked nibbling purposely on a more sensitive spot I couldn't answer him, so he kept nibbling and kissing for a while "Can I bite your neck once more dearest?" He whispered, "I just can't stop."
"You can." I gasped as now his bites became more aggressive leaving his teeth marks on my skin for a few seconds each time
"Do you like my bites Y/n?" He whispered as he licked the spot he bit before kissing it again he would do this over and over up and down my neck like a vampire to my jugular,
"Very much Jack," I almost moaned feeling him so close to me giving me such attention
He continued with a prideful smirk, getting harder with his nibbles, kisses and bites. "I'm glad you're enjoying it." he smirked getting even harder "Hmmm..." He groaned leaving a hickey on my neck "How was that Dearest?" he asked licking his hickey
"Ohh jack-" I gasped feeling him force a hickey into my skin he continued biting and nibbling my neck around my hickey to ensure my attention for it, "Uhhh! Jack!" I moaned twisting my fingers in his hair, which he took as a sign to get even more intense "Uhhhhh!" I moaned grabbing his hand that had been settled on my waist this whole time moving it under my dress to my thigh
"Ohh?" He smirked "That what you want y/n?" he whispered between kisses stroking my thigh higher and higher "Hmm? That what you want dearest?" he licked my hickey as he smirked and I could only nod, he teased me further stroking my hip under my dress "Ummm..." he groans now all but attacking my neck with kisses, bites, nibbles and licks. I could feel he was hard against my leg I tugged on his hair almost pulling his hair to bring him closer and he took the hint intensifying his work on my neck
"Uhhh jack" I gasped moving his hand to where I so desperately needed him
"Oh?"
"Please jack,"
he smirked and whispered deeply in my ear "Yes dearest." he smirked stroking my mound before rubbing on my throbbing clit
"Uuhh uhhhh uhhhhhhh" I whined as he continued with my neck at the same time by now my neck looked as if I had been in a fight covered in hickeys and bite marks all down one side of my neck, not caring the marks he made just wanting to make us excited I moaned as he made a hickey on my most sensitive spot while he slipped his fingers inside me still rubbing my clit with his thumb but I clamped my hand over my mouth to stop my moan even if my eyes rolled back a little
"Ohh..." He growled "Such a cute little thing," he cooed "Do you want me to stop?" he whispered and I shook my head "Alright," he smirked nibbling and kissing as his fingers worked but not fast enough I grabbed his wrist and tried to make his hand move faster but he pulled back "Ohh I see," he whispered nibbling my ear "Y/n..." he groaned kissing down to my collar bone and across my gasping chest giving him more space and more real estate to leave hickeys and bites, I tugged on his hair to pull his lips to mine for an intense make out till he pulled back "Let me see them."
"What?" I blushed but with my quick breaths my chest was rising and falling so fast his eyes lingered there
"Let me see them," he growled "Let me see them y/n." He whispered in my ear making his fingers move much faster
"Uhhh Jack please!" I gasped I took his hand away and moved it to the ribbon tie of my dress I went to help him but he pushed my hand off
"I want to do it." he smirked, he then picked me up in his arms like a bride and carried me to bed laying me down on my back, he unlaced my dress making sure to be agonizingly slow before he tugged it off me leaving me naked on my bed, he smirked down at me pulling his suspenders down and threw his shirt to the side He gasped a moment before he took my hands resting them on his shoulders and letting me slide them down his chest "Feel how breathless I am for you, feel hour quickly my heart beats for you,"
"And feel how I do for you," I smiled and rested my wrist on his neck,
"Hmmm... you are more perfect than any other woman I have ever met" he gasped, "Are you sure you want me?"
"Yes Jack" I gasped, throwing my head back against the bed,
"That's all I need to hear Y/n,"
He didn't need another word he pulled my legs up and open before tugging his trousers down, he stroked his hard shaft a couple of times before he held the base and guided himself inside me he groaned as he found his way, he held my hips a little raised as he was stood and I was laid on the bed to ensure the best pleasurable angle as he began his almost violent thrusts but this was normal for Jack, as the moment he's allowed to he will not control himself but I rather liked it, seeing him often so composed and calculated a slave to his hormones and needs, I didn't hold back my screams given often when we did this my family would be in bed or his colleagues on the side of a door but as we were alone I didn't have to hold my screams back, he didn't hold back his grunts and groans either which I found sexier then I like to admit, the bed creaking as he thrusted I knew I was close clawing down his back in desperation for the pleasure that was building and building and building until I hit it screaming and clamping my legs around him my eyes rolling back and my jaw hung open, pleasure rushing though my body jack kept going for a while but he was slower sloppier unable to control himself much longer until he moaned loudly and quickly pulled out sending his seed across my stomach,
"Sorry y/n-"
"It's okay, we haven't had time alone in a while" I giggled, pulling his head into my chest to catch our breath for a while "Do you think you have the energy for more?" I asked tenderly stroking his shaft and he was still hard,
"More? you sure you want more?"
"More" I pleaded
"hmmm you're pretty cute when you beg,"
"Don't make me beg too much Jack you won't like me when I'm too... desperate," I smirked stroking his chest and his neck till I reached his hair and I tugged on it hard pulling his hair
He smirked and chuckled at little at me pulling his hair slightly and biting his lip "Maybe I like you when you're desperate dearest." he smirked
I pulled him down to kiss me pulling our lips into a heavy makeout before I pushed his head down
"Ohh? All alright." He smirked as he began kissing and licking my clit as mercilessly as he did my neck
"Uhhhhhh! Uuuuuuhh! Jack!" I squealed
"ummmm! I love when you're loud for me Y/n" he growled as he began to suck,
I did my best not to scream at the feeling of such intense pleasure but I pulled his hair so he came back to my face "I need you. Now." I half pleaded and half demanded
"Really? You need me dearest? hmmm?" He smirked grinding himself against me as he had now gotten hard again,
"Yes" I nodded grinding back on him "Jack, More, Please."
"Are you sure?"
"More!" I demanded digging my nails into his hips and flipping us over so he laid in the middle of my bed and I crawled over his lap
"Ohh very demanding dearest." he smirked and I didn't hesitate to move to let him slip back inside me "uHhh fuck-" he gasped leaning on his hands to keep himself up a little, I didn't waste my time starting to ride him bouncing and grinding as fast as I could resting my hands on his stomach, he did his best to keep quiet smirking hard as he watched me ride him his hips working with me so we could move more intensely on one another, the bed springs creaking with each thrust and bounce but I didn't care, his eyes squarely on my breasts as I bounced "UUghhhh! I'm already close y/n!"
"Just a little longer Jack." I pleaded
He smiled biting my neck a little as he took my hips and moved them even faster than I could on my own and he thrusted so hard up into me I had no choice but to squeal
"UUghhhhhhh! JACK!" I screamed as I hit my wall of pleasure biting his neck as I did but he quickly threw me off onto the bed leaning his head back as he sent his seed across his stomach
"Fuck- you were... certainly excited weren't you-" He groans gasping desperately given he just had two rounds without much break collapsing on the bed trying to get his head straight,
"I love you, Jack,"
"I love you too," He smiled
I got up and fetched us both something to drink given we were both now tried and dehydrated,
"You really like it when I nibble your neck don't you?"
"I do," I giggled,
"Hmmm maybe I'll start kissing and nibbling you again?"
"Really?"
"Yeah? That sound good dearest?"
I smirked sitting up on my knees and stroking down his chest giving his shaft a few gentle strokes and rubs,
"Ummm... yes?"
"Just testing."
"testing?"
"If little Jack has enough energy for me." I cooed feeling him get hard again,
"Always Y/n." He gasped,
"Round three?" I asked innocently,
"Fuck I love when your family isn't here." He smirked pulling me into a kiss I happily kissed back and then pulled back and turned my back to him looking at my pillows, he quickly came close his hands roamed my body squeezing my breasts a little before he pushed me to bend over and quickly pushing himself back inside me as he held my hips, "Uhhhhh Jack!" I smirked moving my hips back and forth to start our thrusts, and he wasted no time getting utterly merciless on me I had to keep my hands on the bed to keep my head from being thrusted into the pillow slightly giggling at the sound of our hips meeting over and over but it was often overshadowed by just how deep he could get like this, and after a while, he began to slow, "Don't slow down." I pleaded
"I'm already two shots down y/n. I'm not exactly got a lot of energy left."
"Ughhh Jack!" I complained moving my hips myself to keep the speed the same, he moaned loudly and moved his hands from my hips to my breasts twisting my nipples as he mercilessly thrusted with enough to tip me over the edge "UHHhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Yes! yes JACK!" I squealed doing my best to ride it out he tried to slow me but I just kept at the pace until his hips bucked quickly -
"Ughhhhhhh! fuck- " He groans forcing himself out and sending his seed across my back, "Sorry- sorry-" he gasped
"It's alright Jack." I smiled, cuddling up to him a little and giving him kisses "You're tired."
He gasps fast and hard "You are an evil little thing when your horny y/n."
"I can't help it," I giggled "I love you so much"
"I love you too" He smiled playing with my hair
"Jack..." I whispered after a while of resting
"Yeah?"
"Again?"
He chuckled a little "You evil little thing,"
"More." I cooed stroking his shaft and feeling him get hard again for me "Aww little Jack does have some more energy."
"You know I can't resist you." he smirked leaning on his elbows, "Go on then dearest."
I giggled and jumped on his lap this time with my back to him so he could play and tug on my hair as I bounced myself violently desperate for this burning ache to be cured I glanced over my shoulder at him and saw him gnawing at his lip trying desperately to keep his head straight he pulled my hair hard
"Slow down dearest. you're gonna make me cum."
"Isn't that what you need?" I smirked jiggling my butt as I bounced
"You know I do" he growled holding my hips and thrusting hard inside me
"uhhhhhh Jack!" I squealed bouncing faster and harder he often pulled my hair to make me arch my back as I bounced until I began to rub my clit
"AH ah ah!" He smirked slapping my hand off "That's my job." he smirked rubbing on my clit mercilessly which was enough to tip me over the edge squealing loudly and squirting down him, he let me ride it out moving hard and fast until he pushed me down onto the bed and sent his seed across the sheets "I love you so much y/n
"I love you too Jack" I smiled giving him a gentle kiss as we both lay sweaty, gasping trying to process ourselves, given the last... god knows how long we had been at this like literal rabbits.
Once I had the strength I climbed out of bed and went looking for where my dress ended up quickly slipping it on and fixing my hair having a drink after all that. when I looked back to the bed Jack was fast asleep so I let him rest for a while getting started on dinner, once it was cooking I went back up and found him still asleep so I giggled climbing onto the bed and onto his lap "Wakey wakey"
"Humm? Ohh sorry y/n I think I uhh I think I died for a minute"
"Really?" I giggled giving him some water,
"I did just cum four times... I'm surprised I didn't just pass out" he chuckled
"That's true." I giggled "So.... dinner's cooking."
"Good, I'm starving after all that" he smiled giving me a kiss
"So... it's gonna be about an hour?" I cooed stroking his chest
He gasped a little his eyes widening "I'm gonna love marrying you aren't I?"
"Yes you will" I smirked tugging him into a kiss and dragging him down into bed with me...
#tbs smut#tbs imagine#thomasbrodiesangster#thomas sangster imagine#tbs imagines#thomas brodie sangster smut#thomas sangster#thomas brodie sangster imagine#thomas brodie sangster#tbs#thearttfuldodger#theartfuldogger#the artful dodger#jackdawkins#jack#jack dawkins
358 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Fifth (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! OC) Part I
Summary: The members of Sleep Token are exhausted, utterly drained. Sleep beckons for a new addition to take the load off the group; A Fifth.
Word count: 1.8K
I hope y'all enjoy I have a few parts planned out with the potential of this becoming a longer piece if you're interested. Poly! Sleep Token with a Fem! OC but can definitely be read as reader insert.

This was the third night in a row that he had dreamed of, well Vessel wasn't sure what he was dreaming of. It was never pleasant, Sleep's dream rarely ever were, but these were different.
They were never like this when II, or III first began to plague his dreams. Sleep had been clear with them. They had come with a sense of purpose and drive to seek the new members out. Nor was this like the other messages Sleep had sent Vessel, she had always been clear, given him instructions or a goal. Those dreams had always felt real; Vessel could feel every touch, hear every word, and move freely sheltered in the safety of the dream world Sleep had created.
But this was completely out of his realm.
The clearness of the dreams had been replaced with flashes of images. Mousy hair, deep brown eyes, and pale translucent skin. Never a clear image, and never tangible. He had tried to reach out to the being when the dreams started to happen but the uneasiness of it all had prevented him. It was as if he was tied down and gagged, unable to respond to the chaos around him.
Was it fear?
No.
Even when Sleep punished her followers, the fear was never like this. That came with understanding, while sometimes cruel Vessel understood it. This was completely different, wild, unnerving and Vessel did not like it.
Reaching out blindly to the side table by his bed, Vessel searched for his phone. Lifting it to his face, expecting a light to blind him as he turned it on. A low sign left his lips, he had forgotten to plug the darn thing in again. No matter what time it was now there was no going back to bed. His head was too filled with a heavy confusion he had not felt since the early days of Sleep Token, since the early days of his connection to Sleep herself.
Pulling himself from the bed, he grabbed an extra hoodie and his mask. Stuffing them both on unceremoniously before dragging himself out of the warm comfort of his room. The promise of a warm cup of tea urging himself forward and down the creaky steps of the band's shared home.
Even with the newfound success of the band they all still remained in the older Vicornian style home. It was easier that way, the quiet allowed all of them to maintain their identities, at least the very little left that remained of each of them, but had also allowed them to Worship and write in peace. Vessel would not admit this, but the house was one of the first places he had felt at peace in a long time. He was not willing to leave its comforts and as long as the rest of his band allowed him to stay there, he would.
Entering the kitchen he was surprised to find a tired II, shoulders slump slightly waiting on the kettle to finish boiling. The soft early morning light was the only thing eliminating the kitchen around them, it couldn't be later than four or five in the morning.
Vessel walk towards the smaller man resting his forehead lightly on top of his head.
"You're up early?"
II turned slightly to look up at Vessel, his bright blue eye still glossy with sleep, "Couldn't get back to sleep"
Vessel frowned at this but only responded with a quiet hum.
Reaching over the smaller man, he grabbed their two cups.
II quickly corrected him, "Better make it four, I heard III & IV moving around when I came down."
Vessel paused a moment longer, his frown drawing deeper onto his hidden features. This information concerned him, the other vessels rarely were affected by Sleep's dreams. Well at least not like he was, being the first of the vessels chosen he had a certain connection with Sleep they did not. For all of them to be having troubles in the dream world, something was not right.
"Alright, why don't you throw some more wood into the furnace and get some blankets together in the living room and I'll finish up here?" Vessel suggested.
II nodded at him, before pulling away from the stove. Rubbing his hands over his arms to warm up. It was cold in the house, they had yet to bother adding heating past the wood furnace in the living room and the space heaters in their own rooms. Though IV had refused this comfort all together claiming it was a fire hazard. The other vessels knew it was just an excuse for the man to crawl into their beds when the nights got unbearably cold. Regardless it didn't seem like a big deal as they had planned on getting heating earlier that year but with their sudden rise to fame, home repairs were quickly forgotten. Lost among the other tasks left undone thanks to their busy schedules; not that others minded the extra company.
Vessel continued to watch the water boil in front of him as he placed the tea bags into their cups, making sure to add an extra sugar cube into III's mug. The routine felt mindless, his thoughts consuming him as he dropped each bag into their mugs.
Behind him footsteps joined II's, followed by quiet chatter.
II had busied himself with gathering all the blankets he could, dumping them onto the large couch before moving forwards to feed the flames of the old stone furnace.
"Looks like we need to cut some more wood this week" IV's voice carried from the stairs as he and III made their way down.
II gave a little chuckle before responding, "I have been telling Ves for days now, but you know how he gets..." trailing off a bit at the end of the sentence. He hadnt meant it in a rude way, IV knew that. But an odd energy had settled into the house the past week, that none of them really understood. Maybe it was the cold, gloomy weather but it had felt more than that recently.
Walking over to II, IV reached down to help restack some of the wood that piled next to the furnace. "and what about you II, Feeling alright? haven't been much yourself lately either?"
II paused at this, "yeah Ivy I'm alright" a small smile touching his lips before throwing another log into the flames, "just a bit tired I guess" he added.
III looked at his two band mates from the spot of the sofa that he had claimed, while he was probably the least in-tuned with the group's feeling but he too had felt the energy shift in the house the past couple of days. That same feeling consuming the air around them now, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"Alright you two, get your asses over here I'm freezing" he held wide arm open, holding extra blankets out to them. Desperately trying to escape the heavy feeling beginning to form in his throat.
It was domestic really, the three of them snuggled up together on the couch, eyes half closed enjoying the warmth of each other's company. It had been a while since they had been able to relax like this, with the end of the UK Tour, dealing with business deals,signing onto a new record company along with preparing for the upcoming North American tour things had been overwhelmingly busy. It was beginning to be clear that it was taking a toll on the group.
The high pitch whistle of the kettle barely took Vessel away from the thoughts that currently tormented his brain. Running through the lists of things they had to complete before the start of tour. The record label wanted them to start to write for the new album, not to mention his commitments to Sleep, it felt endless.
He grabbed a tray from underneath the counter carefully putting each mug on to it, before turning to the pantry to grab them some biscuits.
And of course there was the matter of his dreams, flashes of the mousy brown hair flickered through his thoughts as he shifted through the shelves looking for the biscuits. They would need to go into town soon, their pantry was starting to look empty. Just another thing for his endless list of tasks.
He was tired, beyond tired. He was burning out.
Turning off the stove, Vessel grabbed the tray of mugs letting his mind wander over to his bandmates in the other room. He knew they were just as tired as he was and it was beginning to frustrate him that he couldn't take more of their burden off their shoulders. But he himself was beginning to fall behind on his duties.
Long strides brought him into the living room quickly even with the extra care taken not to spill the tray full of steaming mugs in his hands.
His bandmate lifting their tried heads enough to great him. III's excited eyes twinkling at the package of biscuits laying on the tray. Ivy always greeted him with a sweet smile and kind words. Finally the lazy eyes of II watching him move into the room with careful consideration. He would look almost uninterested to most but both had been around each other long enough to understand that was far from the case.
Vessel placed the tray down in front of the Trio, grabbing his own dark blue mug standing there a bit awkwardly trying to find his place. It was II that shuffled away so that Vessel could find his place in between him and III. Slotting himself in the group, Vessel let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and allowing the warmth of his mug to warm his hands.
IV leaned down grabbing his and III's respective mugs, and of course the roll of biscuits for III. Who made quick work at opening them and stuffing one in his mouth. Turning himself towards IV, "ew want one" mouth half full with the buttery snack.
"Sleep help us III, I swear you have no manners" IV chucked before grabbing the snack from his hand and stuffing one in his own mouth.
II watched the two quietly bicker back and forth before reaching down to the table for his own mug, "Ves?" he begun to question the singer next to him, "hm?" he responded, eyes still loosely shut, as his head hung lazily behind him on the couch.
"Why aren't you using your favorit-" II stopped mid sentence eyeing the dark blue mug Vessel had insisted on using daily gripped tightly in the singer's hands,something about how it fit in his hands & the texture II couldn't quite remember now.
"What was that II?" Vessel had responded not bothering to open his eyes.
“Don't worry about it" II leaned back into the side of the singer, his eyes not leaving the fifth mug swirling a deep mousy brown still resting on the table. "It’s nothing" he repeated to himself.
#sleep token#sleep token worship#vessel sleep token#iii sleep token#ii sleep token#iv sleep token#poly! sleep token#sleep token fanfiction#vessel x reader#vessel x iii#vessel x ii#sleep token x reader#sleep token x oc#vessel x oc#iii x iv#vessel x iv
176 notes
·
View notes