#and we don’t have like soup or tea or anything like that so i’m just gonna be struggling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrsmnsn · 9 months ago

Text

All my loving

Summary: Eddie got your cold and now you are taking care of him.

wc: 1k

warnings: pure fluff; eddie being horny (control yourself sir); a little overthinking.

Enjoy!

Three weeks ago you were sick. You came walking to your boyfriend’s house to spend the night with him and, on the way back to your place, the rain started to pour. He would have picked you up and dropped you off if it wasn’t for his little problem. His van was on the mechanic and your mom was out of town.

Feeling guilty for it, he offered to take care of you. So he came every day to make you some company, tried to cook for you and to give you back rubs. The only thing was that he didn’t mind you were sick, or he simply just forgot, because he would still kiss you in each five minutes.

“Eddie, stop it! You are going to get sick too!” You’d say to him, trying to be mad at him.

“No, you need all my loving so you can get better!” He’d said giggling and massaging your scalp. “Honestly, i can’t take you serious with you talking like that.”

“Like what?”

Again, he giggled softly at you. “Don’t worry baby, let’s try to sleep a little bit, ‘kay?”

After two weeks, you got better. No more runny nose or non-stop coughing. But then, in a blink of an eye, Eddie started to have the same symptoms you had and got your cold.

He’s been sick for a week, but there was a thing that didn’t happened to you, but it did with Eddie. He was extremely touchy, grumpy and didn’t want to let you help him. You didn’t know what was worse. His mood swings or he pretending that he wasn’t feeling terrible and wanting to do everything by himself.

Now, here you were at his house. It was raining and chilly outside. You made Eddie a tea with some cookies in the afternoon so you could watch a movie. It seemed to be the only way to keep him quiet and calm. He didn’t make it to half of it and slept on your lap.

After the movie was over, you were chopping some potatoes at the kitchen when he surrounded your waist with his arms.

“Hey sleepyhead, did you sleep well?” you said kissing his cheek and going back to chop.

“I was till you left” his voice was raspy with sleep and tiredness. He started to kiss your neck. “Whacha cookin’, hm?”

“I’m making us a soup. I thought it would be good for you.” You put all the vegetables to boil “Also, once you said Wayne liked it too, so i’m doing it”

“You could do something else, huh?” Then you felt the pressure on your lower back. Maybe his voice wasn’t raspy only because of tiredness. “What do you think?”

“I think you are crazy!” You couldn’t help but laugh “Eds, you’re sick baby.”

“But we don’t have to be face to face, you know. There’s some other positions” He said a little upset “Like that, you wouldn’t get sick again.”

“No Eddie. That’s not the point.” You took his hands and led him to his bedroom “Now, why don’t you take your clothes off and… NOT FOR THAT!” you said seeing his mischievous smirk. “I’ll give you a shower and then we can eat some, how’s that?”

He stayed in silence for a while and then he close the space between you two and hugged you tightly. You returned it. He was needy. Begging to all the metal gods so this could be over and he could have all of you again. All of you just for him.

“I know sweetie, this will be over soon, alright?” You knew he needed some loving as well.

“Alright.” You two walked to the bathroom. You started to wash his hair, massaging his hair, and he started to hum quietly.

“I’m sorry baby” he said apologetically with his eyes closed, feeling you wash his hair

“For what Ed?”

“You’re being extremely nice and i’m being grumpy all day.” You looked at him opening his eyes. His big brown eyes shining for you. “You don’t deserve it”

“What’re you saying? You’re sick Eddie! No one is happy to have a cold, you know.” You said talking the soap “When i was sick, you took care of me. Now i’m doing the same for you and, very soon, you’ll be better. Just do me a favor?”

“Anything sweetheart.” His voice was funny. Now you understand why he was always laughing at your voice.

“Stop thinking too much. Finish your shower. Go and put some nice pijamas and come to the living room so we can eat dinner and be together.”

That was exactly what he did. He sat beside you on the couch. He was eating his soup and a grilled cheese you made for him. “Damn, that’s so good. If it means you’re making this every time i get sick, then i wanna be sick everyday.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” The shower seemed to be helpful. He was feeling better.

In two hours Eddie was on the edge of sleep, trying to keep a conversation with you.

“Why don’t we continue this tomorrow?”

“Are you going to sleep here?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I do. Very much.”

“Then i will” He forgot you came here with a bag of clothes for the weekend

“I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too. So fucking much.”

When Wayne came in, Eddie was far gone on your lap. You offered him your soup and tried to take Eddie to his bedroom. You were on Wayne’s bed after all.

“Thank you hun. For taking care of my boy” He said eating the soup. “Damn, that’s so good”

You laughed at his reaction which was the same as Eddie’s. “Glad you liked it. And it’s nothing. You know i love him.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character #eddie x you

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tinytennisskirt · 3 months ago

Text

Never

Summary: Art breaking up with you over something you never had a say in to begin with. His future. Reminiscing over exactly what it is he’s leaving behind and the bittersweet of it all.

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking and smoking, not edited from my notes app

Your stomach flipped at the sight of the text from Art.

You free? We need to talk.

It was this odd sinking feeling, your feet suddenly the heaviest things to lift, your stomach instantly in a knot, twisting, making you sick. It’s not like you didn’t know it was coming. His distance drastically increased the past three days, plans you made had fizzled out to nothing by the means of odd-seeming and strategically-placed obstacles in his path. And you were fine, you’d thought.

And it wasn’t a lie. It was good. And happy. And healthy- both you and Art were communicative and understanding and allowed each other space and peace of mind when needed. Nothing was better than your time together, not felt better than his arms around you after a long day, nothing could come close to the way it felt when he would plant a simple kiss on the centre of your forehead.

And you felt things slowly unravel, like pulling on one string and having the whole sweater come undone. But it was quick. And it was unexpected. And he wanted to talk, asked you to meet him in his dorm room when you were done with your lecture and you just had that intuitive, gut feeling that this was it. You hoped to god you weren’t right. You were 89% sure but there was a 20% that was a pale ghost of optimism that laid overtop all of your doubt, co-existing within the one hundred.

If someone had asked you five days ago what the chances of him leaving felt like to you, you would have said it was a 4% chance he would go. Why would you have any reason to doubt him? He was your best friend and the man you were absolutely head over heels for. And him, he would hold you close all night if you let him, he would go out at four in the morning if you said you craved iced tea then and there, if you cried he would wipe your tears away and not let you go until you wanted and that would sometimes mean hours, and if you were sick he was there with soup and hands to hold back your hair.

But you felt the 89% in his sudden change of character as you knocked on his door and he opened it without pulling you into a hug or a kiss or anything of the sort. The same sort of hello just minus everything you knew and the cold of it was uncomfortable as you walked in and sat on his bed, pulling your feet up. He sat in the computer chair across from you, not on the bed with you, and you slowly felt the nausea creep up on you. Worse. His greeting was so empty of who he was. It was like even his room had lost colour.

“I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Us,” you finished. He met your eyes and then looked to the ground, nodding slowly. You knew it. You were confident enough to finish his sentence.

Art rested his elbow on his knee and allowed his chin to rest on his palm, fidgeting with his own lower lip. He paused for a moment, “I-um…” he started. Your stomach ached and you found yourself fidgeting with the ring on your finger. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, I’m struggling a bit.” He confessed, nervous smile on his face which you knew he had no control over.

“That’s okay,” you answered, smiling just a bit in response, though it was forced. Too forced, it almost hurt to make your muscles move this way when they resisted so hard. “Take your time.” You said. Gentle.

His hand rubbed over his mouth and then his eye, rubbing his left eye and coming to rest his hand along the side of his face, air blowing out through slightly parted lips. “I’ve been thinking about tennis.” He said.

You stayed quiet, listening patiently though the impulse to be impatient was such a threatening force. You hated the way you could feel the heartache already manifesting in your fingertips. What an odd place to feel it, you thought. Maybe it was the ghost of your optimism, trying to guide your heart to your fingertips so maybe you could reach out and keep him. What an odd thought.

“I think I’m leaving in the spring.” He said. You knew that he would be going on tour, pro, when the spring came. It was something you talked about often, his head in your lap and your hand in his hair. “And I was really wondering for some time what it would look like. Place to place and I-uh- I was talking to Patrick and he told me how tour is and I got to thinking…” he trailed off, meeting your eyes for just a moment. You pressed your lips together, trying to just sit still and listen quietly.

You nodded just slightly for him to continue, okaying the fact that you had listened so far. “Ive been losing sleep over it, how demanding it is and weighing that with how badly I want it and- I guess I don’t know how to do it all… with you.” He said. You saw it coming, you saw it coming as you walked over, you saw it coming from his text. “Badly phrased, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not good at this, I’ve never… done this.” He said, fidgeting more with his hands, trying to crack knuckles he’d already cracked as you just sat there absorbing it.

It was always obvious that Art loved tennis in a way that most people wouldn’t get. He wasn’t overly passionate about it, it didn’t consume his every thought, he wasn’t obsessed but it was a dream of his to go pro. Play big games with big names and it was a wonderful future he saw for himself but right now, feeling selfish, you wondered why he couldn’t see that future with you at the sidelines. You’d been to almost every one of his games at Stanford, you had been around for practices, you even tried to play a few times and you were awful but that didn’t matter, right? You loved what he loved because he loved it, even if you weren’t good at it. And you loved him for his aspirations and drive for success in something he loved and that was an amazing thing to observe. It’s not often you find a man who is so sure of what he wants, avoiding playing games with your heart, never hurting you intentionally and if he did, it was an accident and fixed, truly fixed. It never dawned on you that his idea of security didn’t involve you. Not the way your idea of security involved him.

No matter the variable of the future your idea of it was always with him. And the boys you’d known before him, you had avoided thinking about the future at all costs. You didn’t want kids with them, you didn’t want anything with them and you sometimes wondered why it didn’t come naturally and then Art came along and you found yourself thinking fondly over name ideas. And you were young- it was a bit far off from the time when you could truly have that future but you knew you wanted it. And you knew you wanted him and no one else to fill that role. He would be perfect, you thought, playing tennis with some little boy, some little version of yourselves and it was stupid, yes! Stupid because it was so far away but it wasn’t stupid to want. And you wanted a career and success, but not more than you wanted him.

Now when you looked at him where he sat you felt everything you’d ever seen for your future, every vision of your future home whether it be an apartment or a big White House, every vision of him coming home to you, every vision of him coming home to future children, it was fading. And your optimism with it. Why would he stay?

He just waited for your reply, his mouth twisted a bit to the side. “Why not?” You asked. Why couldn’t he do it all with you?

He looked at his hands, “It’s going to be a lot.” He said. “And it’s going to be hard for both of us and I just don’t think we’d survive it.” So he was giving up.

“Survive it?”

“Make it through.” He stated, fidgeting away. It was some peace of mind to know he struggled to say it. You felt the hot flush of impending tears wash over your body. “I think… the best course of action for us is if we go separate ways.” You bit your lip as the hot tears began to spring up in your eyes. You hardened your stare as to know show them, which you knew didn’t work but you still tried. “And I’m sorry.” He added.

“You think it’s best?” You asked. “For you or for me?” You immediately backpedaled, a single tear falling down your face but no real crying being allowed. “I’m sorry, that sounded really rude, I didn’t mean it that way.”

He chuckled, rubbing his eyes again, “No, I know. I get it. But I think for us, or I like thinking for us. I just… I know myself and I know that when things get tough and we would be apart so often… I would distance myself.” He nodded, continued, “I would hate for you to torment yourself over it because I know you’d worry. And I think it would be better to not have to deal with the heartache of it all then.”

“So you’ll deal it out now?” You asked. And you understood. He wanted to leave before it got messy, got hard to comprehend and live with. You didn’t see that coming in the slightest but when a man gets their mind set on something of the sort it’s hard to remove the notion from their stubborn mind. “Art, I don’t want that.” You told him. “I don’t want that future for us either. Distance wouldn’t matter to me, I could deal with the time apart.”

He buried his face in his hands, “I know and I’m sorry.” He said, muffled, rubbing his jaw as he lifted his head up. “I don’t want it either but I’m not ready to hurt you and I know the idea of it is going to keep me up at night just the fact that it feels like it’s going to happen at some point…” He sighed deeply. More of your tears streamed down your cheeks but you wiped them away and fought the urge to sniffle. “I don’t want to hurt you down the line.”

“So don’t,” you said, trying reason on the stubborn mind. “Don’t hurt me and don’t leave. Unless it truly doesn’t work.” You said. You wouldn’t beg, but you could try and get him to see reason. Your heart beat slow in your chest but with heavy, violent thuds. You wouldn’t never understand his mind, his true thought process. Just a week ago he was kissing your stomach on his way down, telling you that you were beautiful, just a week ago, you’d gone with his mom to lunch, just a week ago, you fell asleep in his arms and woke up still held just as tightly. And his reason was that he was afraid of something that was entirely up to him. But you’d take it. There wasn’t much else he could say.

“It’s the balance of things. I don’t know how I’d be able to keep up with us and tennis at the same time. And I hate that I don’t think I can do it, I’m so sorry.” Words of someone with their mind made up.

He didn’t even try yet. He was giving up before he even tried. Or even tried to try. And that was what you were worth, apparently. But you loved him, so of course you’d be happy to step aside if you were in the way of his dream.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked. “To not be worth that try?”

“No, no, you did everything right,” he said, leaning forward just a bit and you swore he almost reached for your hand. “It’s not that I’m not trying, I’m just trying to prevent more pain.” He said. “This is fucking killing me, I don’t want it but I don’t want you to hate me if I get too busy and ruin everything.”

“Art, it’s as simple as not hurting me.” You stated. “I want you and you… wanted me and I thought that was something.”

“No, it is something I just… don’t want to remember it as anything else. I don’t want this to ruin us.”

“You’re going to do exactly that. What am I supposed to say to that? Where’s the closure in that? You’re saying you want me but won’t keep me, that’s insane.” You tried again to reason and he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes again. “I thought I was worth more than tha-“

“You are. You’re worth so much and I hate that I’m doing this, but I don’t know how to go forward while maintaining us in the way that I know you want.” He tried to reason back, but it just didn’t work. It didn’t feel okay… or right. How could it? He promised forever, he was only saying it, he didn’t mean it. Every act that had led up to this point, the pre-relationship pining, the anticipation of a first kiss, first handhold, first time… Every act that had led up to him leaving what was it really worth if not some lead up to a perfect future. Or even an imperfect one, you would have loved an imperfect future with him. Another year, even. Or a good few months of him at least trying to keep your relationship intact, but he sat here saying he wouldn’t even try because he knew how it would end.

You hated knowing that if this was your situation, you would have found a way to make it work. You’d be trying harder than he was to keep him because you adored him and what other answer was there? When you want someone, you want someone and you would do all you could to keep them even if in the end it ended up being absolutely fucking pointless. You’d rather the fight than the abrupt ending on what was supposed to be ‘good terms’. He wanted to preserve the perfect people you were before the fight made you cold and mean but who was to say the fight wouldn’t have been worth it? It could even work out nicely, ending in peace. The peace you currently had… the peace you were losing.

You couldn’t stop him, that was evident. You knew what he wanted and it was his own peace of mind that he wouldn’t become a bad person, but you secretly hoped that this was a decision he would regret. And you did cry, just not loudly, you let yourself cry and he himself didn’t look so okay but there was good in that. It meant this was hard to do, it meant that you weren’t easy to leave. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I feel awful but I’d rather this over tearing us apart.” He said.

“It’s okay.” You said. And it was, it wasn’t a lie. His intentions were good and that was the worst part. He didn’t want to hurt you. He just had to give something up in order to achieve his goals and it happened to be you. As unfortunate as that was, you loved him enough to see his reason and still stay understanding even though it brought an end to the thing you wanted more than anything.

You pressed your lips together, then let another breath slip through them as they parted again, looking up at the ceiling. Than the wall. Then the window. The door. This would most likely be the last time you were in his dorm room and you found yourself trying already to convince yourself to let things go but it was just reflex. You were trying to protect yourself from the impending pain that would hit hard once that door shut behind you again. You were already trying to self-soothe, self-comfort as you felt the cracks spread throughout your body, getting ready to completely shatter.

You remembered the first time you were in his room. His walls were mostly bare, but now they were covered in posters you’d bought him. Pictures. Pictures of you, even. The pain in your fingertips flared through your body as you imagined him having to take them down. And what would he do with them? Where would they go? The same with the posters, though they were much less personal, would they remind him of you?

How much pain would he feel when you left? You wondered if it would be anywhere near the level of yours. It all depended on things you didn’t and couldn’t know- how long had he been wanting to do this? Had he been thinking about it for weeks trying to find the right time or was it cut and dry, a quick impulse? How long did he know he had to leave and what did he allow as he had the thought of leaving you in the back of his mind. Last week you’d fucked twice and it was slow and it was perfect and now you wondered if he knew that was the last time. The pain in your fingertips began to become a crushing force on your ribs, clenching your heart and you sobbed once into your hands.

You sat in the silence that was once so comfortable and he was right there and he wasn’t immediately a comfort. He wasn’t immediately your safety from your emotion, he couldn’t be anymore. You weren’t so lucky

It was the very bed you sat on then that had been the setting for most of your easy evenings. Talking, kissing, touching, asleep. And you wouldn’t be able to escape it going back to your own dorm. Your dorm room bed carried the same type of memories. And it was all pain, it wasn’t much else other than bittersweet. You wanted him, he wanted you but he wouldn’t do much to keep you other than end things. Here, now, after all of this.

He first kissed you outside of the tennis change rooms and around the side of the building where you waited for him after a successful game. His hair was still wet from the shower and sure he still had gum in his mouth but it was everything, the way you’d never kissed before but somehow fit so perfectly together. No clash of teeth, no bumping heads. A perfect, clean, movie kiss. And you thought about that now as you were looking at his lips. You didn’t think that there would ever come a time when you had to try and remember when you last kissed. The reality of the last kiss was something you were glad was lovely, you remembered exactly when he last kissed you and it was a long one. Last night you’d questioned it just slightly for its length and its passion but you guessed that he knew today would be the day. You wiped your eyes. Who would have thought you’d ever have a last kiss? Not you. And you were sure if this was a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought it up either. So you told him it was okay.

It didn’t feel much like it was but it would have to be. It wouldn’t feel okay for a long time but at its base, it was okay. Because you loved him and only wanted him to be happy and leaving you was what would give him the peace of mind to go and be successful. Tennis was everything to him the way he was everything to you. And just as he was worth everything and anything, so was tennis to him. That wasn’t to say he chose tennis over you- that’s not what he was doing and you knew that, even if it felt that way- but it was him prioritizing your peace. You could appreciate the sentiment even as the cracks it was leaving were beginning to open and ache.

“I just… I can’t believe this.” You said, smiling just the smallest bit. “I really thought this was it.” You sighed, crying quietly, trying not to. Begging yourself not to. …Things you said that you didn’t think through. You’d have time to regret it later but it just made Art look away from you. He couldn’t handle it. And you could see he had tears in his eyes, he couldn’t hide that. As much as you hated seeing him upset, it was good to know that this upset him and he wasn’t doing this emotionlessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you- don’t be sorry.” He said, sniffing, looking at you through his eyelashes, still fidgeting with his lower lip. “I promise it’s nothing you did. I promise you, you were perfect. You were everything.” The past tense killed you and you found it evoked a large breath from you. A sharp intake of air. You were perfect, everything, but not perfect or everything enough to stay and try. “Don’t be sorry, please.” He said.

But you couldn’t help it. Maybe there was some version of you that had done more that got to keep him. If you’d had been born into his world, money and tennis, maybe he wouldn’t have to sacrifice. “I’ll try.”

“You shouldn’t have to-“ he stopped himself just to wipe his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You hated seeing him cry. All you wanted was to reach forward and pull him in. All of the crying he’d witnessed from you, all of the emotions he’d been patient and kind with and now he was in tears and you couldn’t hold him the way he held you. It felt cruel and mean to not, but you knew it was wrong to, now that he’d stated what he wanted and it was no longer you. The ache in your chest felt magnetic to the feeling of comforting his matching aches and ills. It was all you wanted to do, wipe away his tears with your own. All you wanted was to make up as if this was some sort of weird fight and have him promise you the same thing he promised you a week ago. That he wasn’t going anywhere and that he wanted you. It could be so simple only if he tried. And none of this was fair- you didn’t get a say. You didn’t get to decide what happened with his future and you never did, but you should have had a say in the future of your relationship. You should have been allowed to fight to stay, even if everything burned down to the ground in the process. “I’m so sorry. I really am. Fuck.” He shook his head, still trying to hide how upset he was but it filled the room, both your feelings and his. Usually the words ‘I’m sorry’ were given a paved path by an ‘I love you’ and the silence beforehand was so empty. Too empty.

“This is it?”

“I know… I know it’s fast, I should have more to say but all I know is that you were perfect. And amazing, and I’m glad we got the time we did.”

Before he ended it. Right. You wanted to be upset, you really did. You wanted to talk the sense back into him, remind him of every time he said he loved you, remind him what it felt like to be loved by you. Remind him that what he is leaving behind are hot summer nights kissing in his car, the comfort of knowing someone inside and out completely and entirely. To remind him of your hands in his hair and his head in your lap and telling him secrets you’d never told anyone. Remind him what it felt like to be with you in every way. How he was your best friend, the one person in the world you could truly say knew everything about you just the same as you knew the most about him. All of him, every side of him. You wanted to kiss him and make him remember all of it.

Christmas, meeting his grandma, the sweetest and most gentle woman you’ve ever met. Art holding your hand under the table at Christmas dinner and sitting with your legs overtop his. Sleeping in his childhood bedroom in his arms. New years with him and Patrick and too much drinking and the taste of a cigar when he kissed you as the clock struck twelve, how that kiss didn’t end until you were breathing heavily, sweaty on your dorm room floor. You couldn’t even make it to the bed and you just laughed. As well as the night that you fell off your bed and you and Art laughed for way too long over something so simple because it was just you both. Best friends and in love and there was nothing greater in the world.

Birthdays when his gifts were beyond thoughtful. Diving into things you wanted as a child, finding them, giving you them. And he hardly ever let you thank him, batting your gratitude away like it was nothing to do all of that for you. And you did the same, hunting down the signed racket of a resigned tennis player he loved as a kid. That tennis racket was on his wall above his bed.

When he would kiss you when you talked too much (he would still wait until you were finished talking) and sometimes not when the only thing you were saying was judgemental of yourself. He loved to shut you up and tell you the exact opposite of any flaw you swore you had. He’d hold your face when he said it but it was mostly kissing. And you did the same when he needed it.

There was also the day he said he loved you for the first time and it was just an accident. He hung up the five hour long phone call with ‘goodnight, I love you’ and you say processing it for a minute before leaving your dorm room in your pajamas, running across campus and saying that you loved him too and he kissed you at the doorway as you stumbled into his room. And after that you talked for five more hours. You’d do that often, too- talk for hours. As friends it was all you would do and it didn’t end when you were together, you loved to talk to him about nothing and everything.

And the fucked up thing about wanting him to remember it all was that he probably already had. And decided that in all of it, it just wasn’t something he wanted more of for himself.

So you would have to go without. Everything. You wouldn’t see his grandma again, you wouldn’t visit his childhood home, touching photos of him as a wide-eyed, big-eared little boy with tennis dreams. You wouldn’t spend another night in his childhood bed let alone any bed with him, in his arms. You had to say goodbye to the version of you who knew comfort in his reassurance of everything he loved about you no matter how much you hated them. He’d never kiss your eyelids again. No more holidays, no more birthdays. No more hearing those three words. It was a blow big enough to knock the wind out of you, but you’d feel it later. For now you had to pretend you weren’t feeling your heart physically ache, the heartstrings pull and your heart as a whole clench.

He weighed the scales and he would rather go without.

You looked at the boy you loved and knowing this, you couldn’t help but cry, really cry. And when you truly broke, so did he. You could hear him cry quietly as you tried so hard to stop. No more crying, you urged yourself. These were your last moments here and you were crying. It was over, everything was over and this emptiness would be what you carried with you on your way back to your dorm. Then you’d carry it day to day while he went pro in the spring. You wondered how empty this would feel for him. But you would never truly know.

There were so many ‘never’s at your feet. And they pulled tears from your eyes and they streamed down your cheeks and you were desperately trying to stop them. He cried into his hands. “I was lucky,” you managed to say. “I’m proud…” you spoke through tears, “of you. For doing this. For us.” You hated how it sounded. It sounded fake, it sounded weird. He just cried and you stood up from his bed. There wasn’t much else to say, though you’d think about it all night. Things like this would happen- you had no more words for him that weren’t desperate pleads for him to remember why he stayed so that he wouldn’t leave. But you respected him too much. You wanted him to have the best shot at his future. No distractions, no you. You just stood next to his bed, tears falling consistently but without sound. “If you ever… want to come back. Don’t hesitate.” You said and you watched him tense up more under the weight of his own tears falling. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, voice breaking. You sobbed, turning to look at anything other than him, your perfect, lovely, sweet Art who you wanted more than anything. He looked at you and he stood up and you weren’t ready to say goodbye but you felt no other way to exist here anymore. You didn’t want to sob you didn’t want to have this be the end, you could say more, but you couldn’t think of anything that would change his mind and sure, you’d say it anyways but respect… you had to respect his decision, the decision he made without you, for you. There would never be true closure here. Ever. He would miss you, you knew that, how could he not? But life would go on. “You’re going?”

“I think so,” you replied. “But I’m not going anywhere, I-“ you couldn’t even finish what you were saying but he had to know it. All of everything came to this. “I couldn’t.”

He looked at you with those beautiful sad eyes and you couldn’t do much about them. You could have asked for a kiss goodbye but it would have been inappropriate. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask for a hug or anything, not even a touch just to feel his skin with intention one last time. Not even his hand… you fought yourself.

He had more to say and you knew it but maybe it was best with things unsaid. They might hurt to hear. And you knew you wouldn’t need more pain.

Despite your better judgement, despite everything you were scared of- despite not even being sure if he wanted it, you put your hand on the side of his face. He leaned into it like he always did and that was the true breaking point. The cracks in you split themselves open and you felt like you were suffocating. It was the last time your hand would hold him in any way. “Goodbye, Art.” You said it first, though it was really him who made the first move. You felt his tear as it rolled from his eyes and onto the side of your hand just before you pulled it away, puppy dog eyes holding so much pain.

“I’m sorry.” He said again. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

#challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #challengers fic #tinytennisskirt #art x reader #art donaldson angst #challengers angst #art donaldson fic

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 11 months ago

Text

Under the Weather

Synopsis: You’re sick. George’s sick. Someone else is probably going to get sick. It’s an interesting last race in Abu Dhabi

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: this fic is pretty vague so i’m not going to give the reader a team or teammate, we just know that she’s a driver on the grid because that’s all we really need to know

. so

. you think you caught it in vegas

. it was colder than you were used to

. you barely got any sleep

. and even though you’re around hundreds of people every race weekend, las vegas felt more packed than a normal race would be

. and you were seated next to george, who’s been feeling sick for a few days at that point, for nearly all pre-race activities

. it was probably all of these combined that gave you a sore throat, stuffy nose, pounding headache, and persistent cough

. you knew the second you woke up thursday morning

. “it’s going to be a shitty weekend”

. the grid, however, did not know until thursday afternoon

. you came into the press conference room, bundled up in a long sleeve and hoodie, nose red with a scratchy voice

. you sit beside an amused lewis, resisting all urges to lay your head against the back of the couch and drift off

. “you okay y/n?”

. the only response he gets is a groan and small shake of the head

. “i’ll get you some tea when we’re done here love, you’ll be okay”

. lewis, who was always your favorite but now has new reasons to be favored, lets you rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes while you all wait for the conference to begin

. word spreads by the end of the media day, and suddenly you have new reactions from the grid

. daniel walks through the paddock with you, never afraid of a little cough

. “lewis tells me you’ve been on your death bed over here. anything I can do?”

. he insist on giving you a hug and the recipe for chicken soup that he learned from his mum and now swears by

. max, who is afraid of a little cough, is the one who makes sure you’re not being harassed when trying to sleep

" max? who’s under the blanket-”

. “shush. she’s trying to sleep”

. “but who’s-”

. “I said shush”

. lando, a man who’s all too familiar with being clumsy, probably saves you a million times from walking into doorways, a drowsiness affect from the fever you keep insisting you don’t have

. he’ll keep a constant eye on you and hand on your shoulder as a precaution

. “let’s not go over there, that’s a wall”

. “y/n!”

. “mhm?” you’d say, eyes half closed with tiredness

. “that’s a door love, jeez, we should put a bell on you”

. carlos and charles, drivers who’ve had loads of experience taking care of sick younger siblings, make a team effort of ensuring you’re doing your best to get better

. “did you drink the water bottle I gave you?”

. “no”

. “did you drink anything today?”

. “no”

. “oh mon dieu you’re going to kill yourself like this”

. “just try to eat this okay? i know you’re not hungry amiga, but we have a race tomorrow, you need to eat something”

. “i got you more medicine, this one says it should take care of the cough and sneeze so you won’t have to worry about it during the race”

. and then there’s george, your sick partner in crime

. you two make a habit of trapping yourselves in one of your driver’s room

. half to prevent the sickness from spreading further, half to just be left alone

. you guys complain a lot

. take turns choosing movies to watch to pass the time

. reminding the other to take medicine, even though there’s a good chance that person probably hasn’t taken any medicine either

. and passing a bag of cough drops between each other

. as a teammate and friend, lewis tries to talk you two out of racing

. but neither budge

. you get into your car, nose still red and voice still scratchy

. and power through the race, just as you’d been taught to do

. george gets a podium and you get a good points finish, the best results you could’ve asked for considering the conditions

. and stumble out of your car once more, looking for a tissue and that chicken soup recipe

. you get checked on by multiple drivers, though the only response you’re able to give is a nod and thumbs up

. lewis accompanies you on your flight back home, and tries to help as much as you let him

. he feels a bit victorious when you say you wished you’d listen to him and not raced

. but the feeling is instantly replaced with sympathy for his friend, so he just nods and tells you to get some more rest

. after making sure you’re safe at home and surrounded by family and friends that swear on their hearts to take care of you, lewis leaves with congratulations on your season finish and wishes to get better

. you’re fine within a few days, you name the cause of your sickness “end of season fatiague” and ensure the drivers you made a full recovery by wednesday night

. so yeah

. it’s not fun at all to drive while you’re sick

. but it’s a bit easier when you have your friends looking out for you

short little f1 grid sick fic. let’s hope I didn’t just manifest myself a cold

#reader insert #formula 1 #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #female driver reader #sicfic #sick reader #no graphic sick symptoms #just common cold type stuff #reader x f1 driver #f1 x you #female f1 driver

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wintersoldiersoul · 1 year ago

Note

Reader comes back from a mission with Natasha really sick. Bucky steps up and takes care of the reader. They don’t want to get Bucky sick, but he’s literally not worried about it because, ya know, super soldier. So he’s able to take care of them and stay with them and cuddle.

Bucky was sat on the couch with a book, trying to pass the time until you got home. You had been gone for 4 days on a mission with Natasha and while it was pretty low stakes, he was still holding his breath until you got home. He missed you terribly, especially since he didn’t have any missions or any real work to do while you were gone. He just tried to fill each day as best as he could until his doll returned home safe and sound.

He smiled when he heard his phone ring, expecting it to be you for your daily phone call that you made whenever you got a minute. But it wasn’t you. It was Natasha.

“Nat?” He asked, answering. “Is everything okay?”

He heard the redhead sigh on the other end. “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re gonna be home in an hour or so, but just wanted to give you a heads up, Y/N is pretty sick.” He went on alert. Whenever you were sick, even if it was just a small cold, Bucky went into full nurse mode, waiting on you hand and foot. He hated seeing you in any sort of pain or discomfort even if it was just an inevitable part of being a human. “Is she okay?”

“Um,” she hesitated. In the background, Bucky could hear you groaning. “She will be. I may need some help when we get here, though.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

Bucky spent the next hour preparing things for you. He made a big pot of soup, put on the tea kettle, changed the sheets on the bed so that they were fresh and clean for you. He laid out clothes and gathered every type of medicine he could find. When he heard the roar of the jet, he headed up to the roof ready to do whatever he had to help you.

Natasha stepped off the jet, greeting him with a smile. “She’s still in there,” she explained. “I don’t know if she can walk on her own.”

Bucky nodded and headed into the jet. You were curled up with your eyes closed. Your face was flushed and you were shivering. Bucky approached you like you were a small, scared animal. “Baby?” he whispered, sitting down next to you and stroking your hair.

“Hmmm,” you mumbled. He could tell you had a fever and you were definitely out of it.

“Can I take you inside? Get you to bed?”

You opened your eyes. “N-no,” you said through chattering teeth. “D-don’t wanna get you s-sick.”

Bucky smiled gently. “Honey, I can’t get sick, remember?” Usually whenever you were sick, you didn’t worry about passing it on to Bucky. You knew his supersoldier immune system prevented him from catching anything you had. The fact that you didn’t remember that right now told Bucky just how out of it you were.

“Oh.”

“Come here, baby,” Bucky said, scooping you into his arms as gently as possible. You were like dead weight, barely able to keep your head up. “Thanks, Nat,” he said once he’d gotten you off the jet. “I got it from here.”

He set you down on the bed, trying to keep you from falling asleep. He knew you needed to rest but you were still in your uniform, covered in dirt and grime from the mission. “What hurts, darlin’?”

You groaned, letting your head fall on his shoulder. “Everything. Head, throat, stomach. My whole body aches. Feel dizzy.”

“Can I run a bath for you? You’ll feel a little better if you’re clean.” Your only response was another groan and Bucky laughed. “Alright, stay here. I’m gonna run you a bath, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You fell asleep in the span of time between Bucky running the bath and coming to get you. He hated to wake you up but he had to get you clean of the mission that was clinging to your skin. He shook your shoulder gently, once again scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you down on the toilet and helped you get undressed before doing so himself. He had to remember to thank Stark for the giant bathtub.

He got you into the bath and wrapped his arms around you so that your back was leaning against his chest. Lovingly, he ran his hands up and down your arms. “Baby how long have you been feeling sick for?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. “Couple days?”

His eyes widened. “What? Why didn’t you come home? You know any of us could have stepped in on this one and taken your place.”

“Didn’t wanna be a disappointment,” you murmured. Bucky’s heart broke for you. You were such an overachiever, such a people pleaser. You constantly put the needs and wants of everyone else in front of your own. You never wanted to let anyone down, even if it was at the cost of your own health. “M sorry,” you continued.

“Shhh, it's okay. I just worry about you. You’re gonna kill yourself one day trying to keep everyone happy.”

“Can’t help it,” you said with your eyes closed.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Let’s just get you clean and into bed right now.” He spent the next 20 minutes washing your body and hair, taking his time to massage your scalp the way you loved. He spread the conditioner over your ends, letting it sit for a few minutes the way you taught him. By the time he was done, you had fallen asleep.

Bucky picked you up and got you dressed in one of his sweatshirts and your favorite pair of sweatpants. Your eyes fluttered open as he set you down in the bed. “Bucky, no. You’re gonna get sick!” You repeated your concern from earlier, worrying him by just how out of it you truly were.

“No, I’m not, honey,” he said, moving your hair out of your face. “Can you open your mouth for me, sweetie? I’m just gonna take your temperature.”

He looked at the thermometer with concern after it beeped. “You’ve definitely got a bad fever, babe. Your temp is 103.7.” He put his metal hand on the back of your neck, knowing the cold would feel good on your burning skin.

You hummed at the feeling, the vibranium sending waves of relief over your skin. “Wanna sleep.”

Bucky smiled at you. “You can sleep, baby. Can I hold you?”

“No, you’ll get sick!” You repeated for the third time.

“Baby, I won’t get sick. That I can guarantee, okay? Can you do me a favor and remember that I won’t get sick?”

You nodded and curled up against him, resting your head on his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, stroking your shoulder gently. “I love you, Princess. Get some rest, okay?”

“Love you,” you said into his neck before drifting off into a deep sleep.

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skylarsblue · 2 years ago

Text

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes✦

(Bros I'm so sorry, I've had the biggest fucking writer's block. I'm hoping some silly lil meme posts will make up for it until I can write something substantial, I'msosorry-)

Y/N: Some of us, I don’t wanna name names, give me a headache when they speak and its- Soap: Is it me?? Y/N: No. Graves: Is it me? Y/N: …it’s not Soap- --

Price: I’m gonna make you a soup. Gaz, delirious with the flu: I don’t wanna be a soup, Captain… Price: …right, how about I give you soup instead? Gaz: That’d be nicer. Price: Right. --

Soap: What the fuck knuckles is this? Valeria: *holding her hyper femme gf in her lap* She’s my girlfriend you intolerant shit. Soap: Whoa! Pump the hate brakes Fox & friends. I’m just surprised anyone would date you. Especially Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony. Y/N, on Valeria’s lap: You know that cartoon? Soap: No comment. Ghost: No, I think you should comment more, Johnny. Soap: NO. COMMENT. Moving on! Gaz: We’re gonna circle back to that. --

Graves: I think the term you’re searching for is ‘current captain’. Ghost: The words I’m searching for, I can’t say. Because there’s a rookie *motions to Soap* present. Soap: No no, say it. I can handle it. Ghost: You sure? Soap: Absolutely, L.T. Ghost: *looks at Graves* Fucking donkey lookin’ muppet bitch. Soap: Brutal blow, sir. Well done. --

Y/N: *comes in* Hey, Gaz, how old is your captain? Gaz: What? Y/N: No not like that…it is, it is like that. How old is he? I came into base, he asked if I needed anything to eat. I said ‘eat what’? Gaz: Okay, first of all, put my plate down and stop hitting on my captain! Y/N: Don’t get mad at me! I don’t even wanna be here. Y’all the ones that want me to be here. --

NPC: Ohhh if I weren’t a lady, I’d deck you! Fem!Y/N: Oh please. Try it and I’d have you on your back so fast you’d think you’re on a date. Ghost: *spits tea* Price, covered in tea: That was so unnecessary- --

Ghost: Mmph. Y/N: Dark room, avoidant, you seem tired despite sleeping for awhile…you wanna try and get out in the sun or do you just need to be in the sadness dungeon? Ghost: *holds up two fingers* Y/N: Would you like some tea for the sadness dungeon? Ghost: …Mhm. Y/N: Tea for the sad dragon coming up! Ghost: Mmph. (Aka “thank you”) Y/N: No problem! --

Y/N: Ya know sometimes there’s times in life where you just have to sit back and go, “ya know what? I’m proud of myself.” Gaz: Is this one of those times? Y/N: No- Soap: *wheeze* --

(Shibari reference)

Price: …alright, when I said we needed to restrain him in a way that ensured he couldn’t get out. This is not- Gaz: These are not military knots. Y/N: No, they aren’t. You all suggested knots that he would know how to get out of. You told me to get rid of that possibility. So, I did. Soap: He is tied…to the ceiling. Ghost: You kinky bitch. Y/N: *shrug* Price: Where did you even learn this? Y/N: That is for me and my daddy issues to know, sir. Don’t worry about it. Just wake him up so we can start interrogating him.

Graves: We can rule the world! Ghost: *turns to leave* Graves:: *watches him pull out something of Y/N’s* Graves: WH-YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FUCK MY WIFE Graves: GHOST. G H O S T Ghost: *leaves* --

Graves: Let me log into Twitter- WAIT, IS THAT GHOST’S DICK!?! Ghost: I fucked your wife. Graves: AGGHHHHHH- --

Medic!Y/N: Don’t torture yourself Ghost. *snips bandage* Medic!Y/N: That’s my job.~ Ghost, internally: Stayfocusedwecannot- --

Price: We’re you listening to me at all? Y/N: No I was fantasizing about beard burn. Price: Pardon? Y/N: Huh? --

Ghost: He died of natural causes. Gaz: You pushed him off the roof. Ghost: Gravity is natural. --

Y/N: Nuh Uh, no. I’m not doing it. I have self respect, and I will not stoop so low as to- Gaz: *brings out 100£.* Y/N: -oooooo*takes money* I’ll have it done in an hour. --

Soap, looking at Konig: That man is a tree. Y/N: Then I'm a fucking squirrel. Soap: On the hunt for nuts then? Y/N: Famished for them. Ghost: Why do I sit with you two...

#call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #konig #cod konig #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #phillip graves #valeria el sin nombre garza #incorrect cod quotes #incorrect quotes #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare

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watarfallar · 24 days ago

Text

I bring more

Etho: I like to play this game called nap roulette. I take a nap and don’t set an alarm. Will it be 20 min or 4 hours? Nobody knows. It’s risky and I like it.

Jimmy: Scott, I want a bedtime story! Scott: I’m busy, Jimmy. I’ll tell you one tomorrow. Jimmy: If you don’t tell me a story, I won’t go to bed! Scott: Once upon a time, there was a person named Jimmy, who always wanted things their way. One day, their friends got sick of it and locked them in the basement for the rest of their life. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The end. Jimmy: I don’t like these stories with morals.

Bdubs: Where did you get that tomato soup? Etho: It’s actually a bowl of ketchup I just microwaved.

Skizz: Hey, what have you two been doing? Martyn: we were helping Cleo with their wedding vows and we were kicked out of their house for making it inappropriate. Joel: How is “Nice ass, Bdubs” inappropriate?

BigB, talking to Martyn: They're trying to lure me into a false sense of security! Well, joke’s on them! I’ve never been secure in my life! And I’m not about to start now!

Mumbo: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material. Scott: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.

BigB: Ew. What kind of tea is this? Martyn: I boiled gatorade.

Pearl: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture. The Squad: Awwww- Pearl: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything." The Squad: Oh.

Gem: So what do you have planned for the future? Jimmy: Lunch. Gem: No, like long term. Jimmy: Oh...um, dinner?

Cleo: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.

Bdubs, singing: I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need— Joel: A family. Pearl: A better love life. Impulse: Mental stability. Jimmy: *clueless* Bagels?

Gem: Are you tall enough to play basketball though? Joel: Are you calling me short? Gem: I'm calling you vertically challenged.

Cleo: Am I in trouble? Skizz: Take a guess. Cleo: No? Skizz: Take another guess.

Etho: Sweet dog you got there. Police: Yes, this is our new drug sniffing dog. Etho: Still training huh? Police: What do you mean? Etho: Etho: Never mind.

Martyn, after asking the squad how to get rust off of a blade: Thank you good people oddly versed in knives.

Martyn: I wanna die. Joel: We all do, you aren't special!

Impulse and Gem texting* Impulse: Come downstairs and talk to me please. I'm lonely. Gem: Isn't Etho there? Impulse: Yes but I like you more.

Grian: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why BigB made me get tested.

Pearl: We can’t tell you because you’re not a member of the club. Tango: What club? Scar: The hating Tango club. Tango: …The fuck? I should be the leader of that club!

+ a bonus soup group quote:

Keralis: Between Gem, Pearl and Impulse, there are three braincells. Keralis: And Impulse has all three of them.

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iamtired10 · 2 months ago

Note

newjeans headcanons to when ur sick/unwell 🫶🫶 i really adore ur writing so much! but dont feel pressured to write this suggestion :)) i reqlly hope your having a great day and i hope for many great ones to come.

under the weather

— ☘︎ fluffy headcanons

pairing: newjeans members x female reader

synopsis: how each newjeans member would react when you're sick and feeling unwell.

warning: just too much cuteness, really! :((

a/n: hey guys, im finishing up other requests tomorrow. this was the first request saurr i worked on it first. ive got some drafts im not happy with (so re-writing them) if u have any requests let me know! but bear with me—i have exams!

— kim minji

minji is the type to immediately notice when you’re not feeling well.

she’ll place her hand on your forehead, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as her brows furrow with concern.

“why didn’t you tell me earlier, baby? you’re burning up.”

minji would insist on taking care of you the entire day.

she’ll make you soup, even if she’s not the best cook, just because it’s something warm for you.

you’d hear her asking google how to make the perfect tea for sore throats or colds.

she’s naturally nurturing, always nearby with a soft blanket, making sure you're warm but not too hot, gently adjusting your pillow.

she’d also have her calm, patient smile on, trying to reassure you, even though you can tell she’s a little worried.

she’ll hum quietly while cuddling you, making sure you get the rest you need, checking in with soft whispers like, “does this feel better, love?” or “i’m right here if you need anything.”

— pham hanni

hanni will panic for like, two seconds, and then immediately jump into action.

she’ll text you, “don’t move!! i’m coming over!!” and show up at your door with way too many things – snacks, cough drops, drinks, and possibly some of the cutest plushies you’ve ever seen.

she’s the type to watch funny movies with you because laughter is the best medicine, right?

hanni’s focus would be on keeping you entertained and distracted from the fact that you’re feeling awful.

she’d wrap herself up in a blanket like a burrito and say, “look, if you’re sick, then i’m sick too. we suffer together.”

expect her to crack jokes, make goofy faces, and maybe do a little silly dance, anything to make you smile through the discomfort.

she’ll hold your hand whenever you’re not feeling great, squeezing it tight and assuring you that you’ll get better soon.

— danielle marsh

danielle will go above and beyond to make sure you're comfortable and smiling.

she’s got that sweet, caring energy that feels like sunshine, so being around her would feel so comforting.

she’d take one look at you and go, “oh no, my poor baby!”

before immediately wrapping you up in the coziest hug.

danielle would come over with a bag full of wellness goodies—think vitamins, fresh fruit, and some herbal teas that her mom probably recommended.

but, she wouldn’t stop there.

danielle would sit beside you, making sure you have water nearby and taking your temperature like a little nurse.

she’d read to you, tell you stories, and probably come up with silly scenarios to make you giggle.

“i know you’re sick right now, but you know what? i’m here to make sure you get better in the cutest way possible!”

she’d offer a shoulder massage or gently rub your back as you rest.

just being with her would make you feel instantly at ease, like you’re already healing just from her presence.

— kang haerin

haerin might not be the most vocal, but she shows her love through actions, and her quiet support would be so soothing when you’re unwell.

she’d notice you feeling off right away and probably wouldn’t say much, but she’d hover around, checking up on you constantly.

she’s the type to sit beside you and just stay close, not overwhelming you with questions but making sure you know she’s there.

she’ll bring you a cool washcloth for your forehead or your favorite drink without even asking, like she already knows what you need before you do.

if you’re too tired to talk, haerin would just hold your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, comforting strokes.

there’s something about her presence that feels calming, like she’s a grounding force when everything else feels off.

haerin would definitely put on some calming music, or better yet, hum softly as she brushes your hair away from your face.

she won’t leave your side, and even though she’s not saying much, you can feel how much she cares.

—lee hyein

hyein would be the most eager to take care of you.

she’ll probably rush to the store to get all kinds of things for you—medicine, soup, snacks, and maybe even some cute little gifts to cheer you up.

she’s very hands-on and would want to help you feel better immediately.

“don’t worry, i got this! you just lay there and look cute.” hyein would say, flashing that confident grin of hers.

she’s the type to bundle you up in blankets, but she’s also a little bit of a tease, so she’ll jokingly smother you in the covers and go, “stay wrapped up like a burrito so you can sweat out the sickness!”

you’ll catch her running around, trying to fix everything at once, even if it’s just making sure the pillows are fluffed or you have the perfect temperature drink by your side.

but the moment you look up at her with those puppy-dog eyes because you’re tired or feeling extra unwell, she’ll soften instantly, sitting by your side and stroking your cheek.

“i got you, babe. just rest, i’ll be here the whole time.”

she’ll make it a point to stick by you, even if it means staying up until she’s sure you’re sleeping peacefully.

a/n: good night 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔..

#💔#new jeans x reader #newjeans #kim minji x reader #fluff #kim minji #minji x reader #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #hanni pham x reader #hanni x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle x reader #kang haerin x reader #haerin x reader #lee hyein x reader #hyein x reader

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

Text

miss americana: gaz edition

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

series summary: The 141 has varying thoughts about Americans which range from finding them wildly entertaining to thinking they’re the worst people on earth. However you challenge their perspectives when you meet them. Something about you makes them feel a little more patriotic ;)

summary: When you finally move to the UK, there are a few things that confuse you and Gaz is more than happy to help out! From realizing cars are not automatic to the different colloquialisms, he enjoys clarifying the differences in culture.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x American!Reader

warnings: none

a/n: FINALLY something that I don’t have to do research on because I’m from the US🦅🎆 I have other parts planned to this as well!

also these are 100% inspired by all the questions I ask @lundenloves, she entertains my constant surprise and shock lol

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Whenever you go out with Gaz you ask him to “translate” for you.

When you first walked the rainy London streets with Gaz, you felt like a toddler with all of your questions. "Why does that stationary store have a sale on condoms?" you asked, confused, as you directed his attention to the sign that displayed a sale on rubbers. "You mean erasers?" he corrected, laughing. Next was when you saw a store you liked and immediately directed him inside, saying you needed pants. Despite how cute you looked while shopping, he had to correct you saying they were trousers and that pants had a very different meaning. Finally, the most egregious example was when you went to a restaurant and ordered biscuits to accompany your savory dish of soup. Once the waiter laughed in response, you looked at Gaz confused. "A biscuit is not like what you get in the Southern US, it's more of a cookie," he explained as you flushed with embarrassment. You would have to do some research next time and consult your British tour guide.

You’re an absolute menace when he goes to the grocery store or what he calls the grocers. You will go up and down the aisles, picking up whatever you fancy.

"Where are those chocolate oranges?" you demanded as you went down the aisle with Gaz. He pushed the cart, or trolley as he called it, which was already filled with a variety of snacks. Anything that looked distinctly British and that you knew you couldn't get at home, went in the cart. He had to hold you back from getting biscuits and crumpets. "Do you think we're having a tea party?" he joked as you waddled back with your selection. "Can we?" you asked, excitedly, and Gaz knew you were going to spend another 30 minutes in the tea aisle. "Let's just find you some Terry's and then we can consider getting tea," he corrected and you pulled the cart rapidly ahead. "I'm going to buy a whole orchard of those oranges."

Later on, you did buy a bushel worth of oranges and Gaz gently rubbed your stomach after you ate two entire ones. "They're just so good," you mumbled before you regretted the lactose coursing through your digestives.

Sometimes you’ll entertain him with distinctly American experiences.

"Did I ever tell you I was going to join a sorority in college?" you mused as you sat on the couch. He looked down at you before replying. "A what?" he questioned and you laughed. "You're telling me you've never heard of Greek life!" you exclaimed as he shook his head. You sat up for this fun explanation. "Essentially, if you're a girl you join a sorority and you spend like 4 days meeting the sister, trying to get them to like you, and then you're given a bid," you explained, he nodded as if this wasn't a foreign concept to him. "Then you all gather, usually in a football stadium or field, and they call your name as well as the sorority you're in and you run towards them." At that, he looked in horror. "It sounds cultish," he remarked and you lightly punched his arm. "It's cute! Everyone dresses up in different themes like 'Las Vegas' or 'Teddy Bears'," you smiled but he still shook his head, "it's the hazing that's cultish."

You will always insist on driving but Gaz remembers the one time he let you drive.

"Kyle, just let me drive!" you exclaimed as he beat you to the car door. In all honesty, you were a little used to being on the passenger side back at home but nevertheless, you were annoyed at his constant insistence at driving. "No," he simply said, "need I remind you what happened last time." The minute he said that you remembered the first time he tried to let you drive. First, you were surprised it was a stick shift rather than an automatic but it was nothing to worry about. It took you a few streets to get used to the changing gears but Gaz still had confidence in you. It wasn't until you pulled into a shopping center and started driving on the wrong side of the road that he made you park and take over. "It wasn't that bad!" you exclaimed, buckling into the passenger seat. "Love, my life flashed before my eyes."

He’ll make fun of you when you order coffee with a smile and try to make a friendly conversation with the barista.

As you entered the coffee shop, you were easily the happiest one there. It was 7 am and even Gaz wasn't as cheery as you are. "Good morning, how are you?" you smiled at the young barista. She returned your smile and eased her tired shoulders. "I'm doing alright, what are you having today?" she replied and you took a minute to think. “Just a cup of coffee for him,” you replied, pointing at Gaz. You pondered for a minute as you strained to look at the signs. "What do you think is good here?" you questioned and her eyes lit up as she began to list the options. "If you're looking for coffee, a cortado is my favorite, but I personally recommend trying our tea," she recommended and you nodded. "Hmm I'll take both," you cheerily replied, watching as she typed in your order. When you pulled out your wallet, you looked around curiously and the barista noticed your hesitation. "Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked before you looked up at her. "You don't have a tip jar here?" you wondered and she let out a laugh. "We don't, more of an American thing," she answered and you frowned slightly. You let her know to keep the change and waited patiently for your order at the end of the coffee bar. "You're too cute sometimes," Gaz said, kissing your forehead gently. He made sure to get a picture of you with your two cups, captioning it, "They finally got their cuppa!"

He helps you navigate the surprisingly easy currency and pricing system.

“Kyle I need more,” you corrected as he handed you a handful of notes. You had gone souvenir shopping in London but forgotten your wallet at his flat. “What do you mean, that’s enough,” he replied as he flipped over the postcards to check if he did his math correctly. “What about the tax? You forgot about that,” you said triumphantly and he laughed in response. “Oh this is one of your American things,” he said, his new favorite term to use, “Love, you pay what’s on the sticker.” Cue your shocked face as you couldn’t fathom the moment of anticipation as your items were rung up at home. On the ride home, you were sure to explain to Gaz the ins and outs of the different taxes including that there was no clothing tax in Minnesota, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Vermont. “I cannot believe you don’t know how much you’re paying when you go up to the till,” he remarked, shaking his head in dismay. “The what?”

There are some disagreements on the meaning of different words (especially ones that you both share but mean two completely different things).

On a rare day, the entire 141 was free, and Gaz decided to introduce you to them. You returned back from the grocers and were surprised when Gaz began preparing a late lunch. “We’re not going to eat at the bar?” you asked, noticing him turning the stove on. “No, no they don’t have food there,” he corrected as your face turned to confusion, “what do you think the bar is?” Upon your explanation of an American bar with cheap drinks and greasy food, Gaz laughed and kissed your cheek gently. “If you want to go to a pub, I can just let them know the change of plans. There’s plenty around,” he responded and went to put the items back in the fridge.

When you arrived at the lively pub, Gaz made sure to sit you next to Soap so you could listen better to his thick accent. While you appreciated the gesture, the Scotsman still spoke a mile a minute. Despite your initial uneasiness, you soon fell into lively conversation and entertained everyone with your stories from college and things you found differently in the UK. "I think the time zone was the biggest issue," you said in response to Ghost's question about your transition to living abroad, "although, the lack of ceiling fans was interesting." They all laughed in response before Gaz interjected. "Tell them about when you ordered a baked potato," he joked and your eyes immediately lit up before you went into a long conversation about your experience. As everyone laughed at your bewilderment at the lack of serving the side with bacon, cheese, and sour cream, Gaz looked at you fondly, his favorite American.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing

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bumblinv · 2 years ago

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Hi! Are your requests open? If they are I'm just gonna leave this here, Neteyam, Ao'nung, Lo'ak (sperate) x OmaticayaGnReader who is sick, like flu for the na'vi or something like that, they have a fever and the chills and everything could it also be fluffy and absolutely adorable

--- personal doctors ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

neteyam, ao'nung, rotxo (seperated) x gn!metkayina!reader

you catch a cold, its time for your lover to take care of you

a/n ; im not good at writing lo’ak, so i bring you rotxo instead! i hope you dont mind<3

: ̗̀➛ neteyam

realizes your sickness even before you did

when you first sneeze or cough, his mind goes straight to the day before, recalling any peculiar food you've had

neteyam would notices too, when you pause between chores to massage your forehead

he will take over cleaning. making sure every corner is clean so you won't sneeze from the dust. he also makes sure you stay hydrated and even whips you up nutritious meals until your condition got better. usually, the fever never got up to you

but when it does, he goes in full momma mode

this man grows with 3 younger siblings, caring for someone is natural for him. he would stay by your side, whispering your name every few hours to wake you up, so he could feed and help you drink

neteyam might not be the best healer, like her sister, but he can make certain herb drinks

makes you ginger tea regularly to warm up your shivering body

you tend to get all sort of nightmares from your sickness, but dont worry, you’re waking up to neteyam since he’s cuddling you all night long. he will run his slender fingers through your hair, whispering comforting words to your ear

“everything’s okay, dear. i’m here”

we all need neteyam in our lives:(

: ̗̀➛ ao'ung

acts like he doesn’t care, but the moment your temperature starts to rise, he brings his mother straight to you

the tsahik would probably do nothing. she tell him to go ask kiri for some herb tea, and to make sure you drink and eat well, since fevers could heal by itself

but mans stressed

would refuse to let you lift a single muscle. he will be the one helping you change, wipe your face to keep you fresh, feeding you

since he’s not the best cook, he would ask tsireya to make you soups, wich she happily does. she makes great food, but your tongue tastes sour and your appetite is no where to be found

so ao'nung scolds you

“quit acting like a baby and please, just eat”

you know ao’nung. none of his scolding are anger, he’s just extremely worried.

watching you go to sleep after being scolded makes him feel like a villain. he would join you in bed and whispers an apology. gently bringing you closer to his chest as the both of you fall asleep

remember he's a worrier? it makes him act too much like a mom. he will insist on taking care of you, even when you're feeling better. will only stop until he's sure you're 100% healthy

ao'nung is a big softie

: ̗̀➛ rotxo

most clueless compared to the other 2

pls dont be mad, its not his fault

something tells me he’s an only child, a one that rarely got sick too, so he doesn’t know anything about caring for ill people

rotxo might be confused, but he’s not an idiot

the moment he touches your forehead and realizes you're scorching hot, rotxo instinctively wraps a fluffy blanket around you. the man will make you drink a lot of water, and went off running to the sullys

“what the fuck?”

“sorry lo'ak! its an emergency!”

he got home with omaticayan food wraps in hand. you’re too sick to say anything, so when he lifts your head to feed you, you don’t protest

the one thing that scares you the most is that his jokes completely disappears

all his stupid jokes, gone.

not in a bad way, this man is just so dedicated on you that he stops joking around. he cannot stand that you're feeling all sick and uncomfortable and wants you back to your healthy self

this man is so serious, even when he tried feeding you raw cloves of garlic

one time, he heard kiri saying that garlics are ‘good for boosting the immune system’

he’s not wrong😭😭😭

but kiri hits him on the head once she founds out

instead of feeding you raw garlic, she gives you a mix of aged garlic and honey as medicine such an asian mom move

he feels bad afterwards, would kiss your entire face despite your protest

the next day, you wake up feeling fresh. but your lover boys voice got so hoarse from sore throat and complains about his sore limbs

yes, he got your fever and yes, he never regret kissing you, even when you're sick

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #aonung #aonung x reader #rotxo #rotxo x reader #sick reader

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gr1mstar · 10 months ago

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tea, tissues, and two hearts…

synopsis: after not listening to your boyfriend telling you about the cold weather a few days ago, now you are stuck with a cold right before an event. gojo takes care of you, now being his turn to make yourself his baby.

notes: i had a bad day so i thought writing something sweet would cheer me up. i hope you liked it, i personally do not like this oneshots that mush, i was tired when i wrote this but… well, it is what it is :) requests are opened btw, you can ask me for anything (besides smut)

contains: gojo satoru x f!reader, sick reader, cuddles, sfw, sweet bf satoru, nicknames, swearing (not much)

also i have a masterlist, so check it out here

it was tonight? 8 pm… fuck.

as you lay in bed, wrapped in layers of blankets, the chill of the night seeping through the window pane only intensifies the warmth you seek. The room was dimly lit, casting a soft glow on the tissues scattered around, evidence of the cold that had claimed your night.

the warmth of a cozy blanket cocoon provides some relief, but your body aches, and every shiver is a reminder of the festivities you're going to be missing. The night is silent, just your coughs and sniffles can be heard, punctuated by the occasional sigh as you longingly glance at the clock, realizing that the party you were supposed to attend is in two hours.

‘i can’t not go…’ you thought, looking at nothing.

your head was spinning, you barely ate, and how you had to stay up all night entertaining some old ass man just to make your boyfriend’s family happy.

the gojo clan. at first, you thought that satoru’s parents were nice, but you were proven wrong when you heard them talking about you behind your back, saying that you are not good enough for their ‘perfect’ son.

‘perfect my ass, he can’t even boil an egg without ruining the kitchen’ and so, you left the bed with a long sigh of extenuation and heeded in the direction of your and your boyfriend's shared closet, passing a mirror. as you stand before the mirror, the reflection staring back at you appears both weary and determined. the cold has taken its toll, but tonight, you're determined to transform this sick-looking person into a beautiful lady for celebration. with a gentle touch, you begin to prepare yourself, tying your messy hair into a ponytail.

foundation, blush, contour, hightlist… ‘where was that lipstick again?’

god, you hated it. all you needed was a warm tea and some sleep…

after an hour and a half, you were ready. taking your phone in your hand, you could see that you had some unread messages from gojo.

“baby, don’t forget about the party. don’t wait for me, i will come already ready just to pick you up” - 1:23 pm

“it’s a formal event” - 1:23 pm

“are you ok? this morning you looked off” - 5:55 pm

“i’ll be there in a few” - 7:45 pm

you didn’t dare to tell gojo you were sick. even though you knew he would be very sweet about it, you didn’t want to hear the words ‘i told you’ over and over again.

a few minutes passed by and when a door sound was heard, you knew your boyfriend was home. all you could hope was that he didn’t notice your sick face.

“babe? where are you?”

“livingroom” you shouted, taking your purse and putting it on your shoulder.

“how do i look?” you asked when gojo arrived in front of you, trying to look dignified and alert. “is this outfit okay? you said it was a formal event.”

“wow. you look really beautiful, love… except for, y’know, the red, puffy nose and the bags under your eyes and the sweat in your hair,” gojo said with a rueful smile, already slipping back out of their jacket. “we’re staying home tonight, aren’t we?”

“what? no, no, i’m fine! i can go, it’s not that bad-”

“sorry, let me rephrase- we’re staying home tonight. get back in your pj’s. we’ll have our own party with some blankets and chicken noodle soup.” your boyfriend interrupted you, taking your hands into his, and smiling at you.

“but gojo, your parents?”

“fuck them. there are going to be a lot of other parties at other times. now, do what i said, and let me order the soup. it looks like you need it.”

“really?” you asked unsure, looking at your nail polished nails.

“really.”

and so you gave gojo a little kiss on the cheek, ready to head out to your bathroom to wipe out the makeup.

“i told you you're going to catch a cold”

“oh, shut the fuck up, satoru”

“he did not.” you laughed, looking at the tv in front of you.

the two of you were looking at an old horror movie, but you were finding it a little too funny for a horror one. you and gojo were on the couch, cuddling each other. you complained about how he could catch the cold too, but for him, he was too cool for a cold.

“me? a cold? you insult me, my beautiful girlfriend” was his response, throwing popcorn at you.

as you sink into the plush cushions of the sofa, a soft glow emanates from the muted screen, casting a warm ambiance in the room. your partner, wrapped in a cozy blanket, nestles beside you, their presence a comforting embrace in the dim light. the room is adorned with the scent of chamomile tea and the flicker of a vanilla-scented candle, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. satoru, sensing the shivers that occasionally wrack your body, wraps you in an extra layer of warmth, the blanket becoming a cocoon of shared comfort.

‘what did i do to deserve this man?’ you found yourself asking.

a bowl of hot soup, prepared with love, sits on the coffee table, its steam rising in delicate tendrils. your boyfriend, attuned to every cough and sniffle, extends a spoonful towards you with a gentle smile, their eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and affection.

“come on, baby. eat as much as you want, today i will take care of you.”

the room may be dimly lit, but the connection between you two radiates a soft, intimate glow that transcends the limitations of the surroundings. wrapped in the warmth of blankets and love, you find solace in the simple act of being together, in the quiet dance of a shared movie night that speaks volumes without the need for words.

“i love you, satoru gojo.”

“i love your sick ass too, now eat all the soup and then we are going to bed, okay?”

“okay.”

the took the image from pinterest - also i do not own jujutsu kaisen and this is simply my imagination.

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 3 months ago

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under the weather

pair: Timothée Chalamet x reader

summery: Timmy takes care of y/n(she/her) on her period

masterlist | navigation

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Timothée and Y/N had been together for over a year now, and though he was often away for filming, they made sure to spend as much time together as possible. Today, however, was one of those rare, quiet days when Timothée was home, and Y/N was feeling a bit under the weather.

The morning had started off like any other, but as the day wore on, Y/N found herself feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She’d been having cramps and a heavy flow, making it hard to concentrate on anything. Timothée, noticing that Y/N was less energetic than usual, set down his book and walked over to her. “Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked gently, placing his hand on her forehead.

“Not great,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s that time of the month, and I’m feeling pretty awful.”

Without hesitation, Timothée slipped into action. He gently guided Y/N to the couch and grabbed a soft blanket from the other room. “Here, let’s get you cozy,” he said, wrapping the blanket around her. “I’m going to make you something to help.”

Y/N watched as Timothée headed to the kitchen. She could hear the clinking of pots and pans and the hum of the kettle. Soon, he reappeared with a steaming mug of chamomile tea and a bowl of soup.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted tea or soup first, so I made both,” he said with a warm smile. “Chamomile is good for cramps, and the soup should help with anything else.”

He handed her the tea and settled next to her on the couch. As she sipped the tea, he rubbed her back soothingly. “Is there anything else you need? I can grab some heating pads or maybe a hot water bottle.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Y/N said, feeling the warmth of his care. “Actually, a heating pad would be amazing.”

Timothée quickly retrieved the heating pad from the bedroom and placed it on Y/N’s lower abdomen. He then resumed his spot beside her, gently massaging her shoulders. “I read that a little light massage can help with cramps. Let me know if it’s too much or if you need me to do anything differently.”

Y/N relaxed into his touch, feeling the tension ease away. “This is perfect. Thank you, Timothée. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Timothée smiled and kissed her forehead. “I’m always here for you, no matter what. We’ll just take it easy today. Maybe we can watch a movie or read a book together. Anything you need.”

The rest of the day was spent in a cozy, comforting haze. Timothée made sure Y/N had everything she needed, from more tea to a soft pillow to rest her head. They watched their favorite movie and laughed at the familiar scenes, and Timothée’s attentive care made Y/N feel loved.

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blouisparadise · 8 months ago

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Today we have the fourth part of our hurt/comfort rec list for you! There are tons of amazing fics on this list that we hope you'll show some love to. If you missed the previous parts, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Wanna Feel the Edges Start to Burn | Explicit | 6,111 words

Harry gives him a gentle smile. “Feeling a little bit better?” Louis nods tentatively. “I think so yeah. Thank you so much for being so kind, but you really didn’t need to do this.” He lifts his unfortunately still shaky hand and runs it haphazardly through his hair. “It was just a spilled tea, I totally overreacted. I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest.” Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Don’t be. I saw the whole thing, that guy was way out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis gives him what he’s sure is a watery smile. “Erm thank you. I wouldn’t normally admit this to a stranger, but you’ve already seen me cry today so what the hell?” He forces himself to let out a weak laugh. “The thing is, my period is due any day now and sometimes the birth control pills make my emotions go a little haywire. I think that’s what happened.”

2) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8,894 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind. Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic. “I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.” Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

3) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9,606 words

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital. So. There’s that.

4) Let Me Be Your Good Night | Explicit | 10,520 words

Louis goes on a shit Valentines date and Harry's the cute waiter who takes him home

5) For The Love Of Biscuits | Mature | 16,574 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about hybrids is that their animal instincts make them jumpy. And quite often lends them to being owned. Harry Styles wasn't looking to purchase a half-breed. But sometimes things just happen. And owning a fox/human hybrid was something that happened.

6) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18,088 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. Three: They do not get along. So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

7) Soup Of The Day | Explicit | 19,958 words

It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm. What could possibly go wrong?

8) Under The Rain Or Under The Snow | Explicit | 20,667 words

Christmas AU where they broke up a month ago but Harry shows up at Louis’ childhood home for the holidays. Louis didn’t tell his mum about their breakup so staying with them is not ideal. Harry stays.

9) Heart Eyes | Explicit | 21,467 words

Harry is a dedicated sentinel with a strong aversion to demons, and Louis is the lovesick incubus who will go to any lengths to win Harry's heart.

10) It Was All By Design (‘Cause I’m A Mastermind) | Explicit | 21,986 words

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.”

11) Thrown To The Wolves | Explicit | 21,681 words

Louis is a human living in the Styles' wolf pack who can't stop getting into trouble, and Harry is the soon-to-be alpha who thinks keeping Louis at arm's length is the safest option.

12) Letters To June | Mature | 41,150 words

It's 1915, Europe is in the middle of the Great War. Omega Louis decides to join the Letter Home Project to become someone’s penfriend. Through this he meets a lovely soldier who hasn't got anyone else to send a letter to. Along with his letter, comes a picture of the most handsome alpha Louis has ever seen.

13) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47,099 words

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

14) As We Are | Explicit | 48,268 words

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

15) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

16) Of Lost Things | Explicit | 57,890 words

Louis comes with a familiarity Harry has never felt with anyone else before. After their fateful meeting, their chemistry became undeniable, and soon after, Harry had felt like he hit the jackpot when it came to finding the person he would spend the rest of his life with. But all relationships come with their own unique problems, and Harry soon realizes that their relationship is no different. When their problems go from unordinary to nearly bizarre in nature, he takes it upon himself to find an answer to their troubles. What he stumbles upon are terrifying coincidences between his and Louis’ story, and the ill-fated mythological couple, Orpheus and Eury. But it’s all they are; just coincidences, ones that feel as frighteningly familiar as Louis. Except… what if none of this is a coincidence? What if everything Harry has always seen as fiction is true, and myth—or rather, history, is about to repeat itself?

17) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,562 words

In the grand scheme of things Louis did believe in love, what he didn’t believe was that he would ever find it in his life time for himself. Low and behold he would find it with someone he didn’t anticipate, now it was just a matter of having it work out the way he dreamed of.

18) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,726 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

19) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93,131 words

As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

20) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please be sure to read the tags and any warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

21) Drops of Jupiter | Mature | 121,826 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with. But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills? And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

22) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167,485 words | Sequel

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp fic recs #hurt/comfort

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waywardxwords · 1 year ago

Text

Witches

Summary: While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18; THIS CONTENT IS RATED M FOR MATURE Swearing, Supernatural-y things (witches), sex pollen trope, smut (p in v, f masturbation), fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing Dean smut and also my first time using the whole sex pollen trope. But this was fun, and I enjoyed writing it. If you’re feeling up to it, please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

There wasn’t anything you hated more in this supernatural world than witches. They were ruthless, conniving and downright batshit crazy. But alas, if you and your hunting buddies didn’t hunt them, then no one would. They would continue wreaking havoc on anyone they wanted, and you couldn’t have that.

So now you found yourself in the living room of a woman you had suspected spent her free time doing witchy things. You had no idea what you were looking for–bones, spell books, weird herbs or plants; the options were literally endless.

All you knew: people in this town all connected to this woman were ending up in rather interesting predicaments and you were determined to find out why.

“Don’t touch anything that looks suspicious,” Dean’s voice came through the other line as you used one hand to press your phone to your ear. “I really wish you would’ve waited for me. We should’ve gone in together.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no time for that,” you muttered as you searched. There were a bunch of old books, but none of them screamed hocus pocus to you. You fumbled with a tiny wooden trinket box that had intricate lines and details on the outside. As you lifted the lid, you saw it contained some kind of yellowish-green powder. “This is interesting…” your voice trailed off as you brought the box closer to investigate. With your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear, you lifted the box.

“I’m serious, do not touch anything. You listenin’ to me?” You rolled your eyes at his voice.

“I’m not touching anything, Dean. Cool it,” you mumbled as you examined the substance. Within a moment, your nose suddenly felt tingly and itchy. It started before you could stop it—sneeze. A cloud of the yellowish-green powder encircled your face and created a haze. Your eyes immediately felt watery. The phone fell from your ear as you hurried to place the box back down on the table and brushed your face with your hands. As you pulled your hands away, you saw dusty yellowish-green hues. You missed Dean calling your name through the phone, but he didn’t miss the words that fell from your lips in the background. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” You breathed as you plucked the phone from the hardwood floor and brought it back to your ear.

“What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was elevated and you heard the rev of the Impala’s engine in the background.

“Uh, Dean?” You watched the powder on the floor around you. “I accidentally touched it.”

“God dammit,” he groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean had gotten to the witch’s house in minutes, which made you realize you probably should have waited for him and gone in together. But that didn’t matter anymore. You were waiting for symptoms to start–every little thing you felt made you wonder if it was caused by the mysterious substance.

“Talk to me, Sammy,” Dean answered the phone roughly as he sped to get back to the motel. He said it was the safest place to be in case something happened. Sam was on his own hunt, about four hours away. “It’s like a yellow color,” he described, as Sam probably asked what it looked like.

“Like pollen,” you murmured from the passenger seat. Suddenly, you felt warmth in the pit of your stomach. It was an odd feeling, almost like you had just consumed a warm cup of tea or hot soup.

“Yeah, like pollen,” Dean repeated into the phone. The warmth wasn’t going away, it was only getting hotter. So hot, you felt the need to pull off your leather jacket even though the cool autumn air nipped at your skin. Dean did a double take from the road to you, and back again. “What are you doing?” He pulled the phone slightly away from his mouth.

“I’m getting really hot, Dean,” you mumbled, worry crept through your words. You didn’t get worried often—or show it, at least—but these damn witches…all bets were off.

“She says she’s getting hot,” Dean relayed over the phone before pulling it away and hitting the ‘Speaker’ button.

“Uh, okay…so she sneezed into a box of pollen and now she feels hot?” Sam was typing as he spoke.

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean confirmed as he turned into the parking lot of the motel. By now, your skin was on fire. The heat had spread from just the pit of your stomach to your chest, your arms, your face, and…other places you preferred not to mention.

“I’m on fire,” you mumbled as tears stung your eyes. As soon as the car was in park, you had the front passenger door open and moved to be outside of the Impala. The cold air felt glorious on your skin, but the fear kept your feet moving.

“She’s burning up, Sammy. You got anything? Anything at all?” The worry was present in Dean’s voice, as well, though you barely noticed over the waves of heat coursing through you.

Once the two of you got into your shared motel room, you beelined for the bathroom. Your fingers wrapped around the edges of the porcelain sink and you closed your eyes. The coolness from the surface of the sink calmed your shakes, even if just for a moment.

“A what pollen?” Dean asked into the phone, as if he couldn’t have heard Sam correctly. After a pause, he continued. “You gotta be kidding me.” He breathed, but didn’t hesitate to get his mind back in the game. “Okay, walk me through it.”

Dean’s tone should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the way your heart nearly vibrated in your chest. There was a heat blazing so hot in your center, that you realized at that moment it had created a slickness in your underwear. Your nipples were so hard, they ached against the soft cotton fabric of your bra.

You glanced up to look in the mirror for the first time. That’s when you noticed the heat had risen and created patches of redness up your chest and into your cheeks. Your breathing was labored, almost, and you realized it was as if you had just had…

“Okay, hear me out,” Dean grumbled as he tossed his cell phone onto his bed and ran his hand over his mouth as he tried to find the right words. “You’re not gonna like this…but it’s called sex pollen.” He cleared his voice before he said it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your chest rose and fell with each breath, you eyed him carefully but that made you feel even hotter. The warmth was overwhelming, so you fanned yourself with one of your hands.

“I know, I know,” he held his hands up as if he were just the messenger. “It’s a spell. It makes you wanna get it on, Marvin Gaye style.” He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. You rolled your eyes and threw the hand towel at his face, missing slightly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Get it together,” you huffed. “So how do I break it?”

Dean gnawed at the inside of his lip, which was something you hadn’t seen him do before—or noticed, anyway. God, you couldn’t look away from his mouth. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you thought you might crumble. Your fingers reached out quickly to grip the doorway of the bathroom.

“From what Sam has read,” he paused as he nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. “You gotta…do it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Do it?” You repeated. “Can you be a grown-up for five seconds, please?”

“Sex, darlin’,” he closed his eyes and said it hurriedly. “You gotta have sex.”

All of the color drained from your face. Even though you knew that was what he meant, it was still a lot to take in (no pun intended). You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to force your brain to work, but all of the blood seemed to be rerouted to other parts of your body.

The feelings that ran over you made you realize you were feeling extreme sensations of being turned on. This went far above any other time you had felt this way—thinking about it almost made it worse.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. When you peeled back your eyelids, you were met with his green gaze. You had never seen his eyes so green before—and in the hue of the motel bedside lamps, you spotted speckles of gold and brown. You had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were before.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered over the word. “So what now? Just try to let it pass?”

Dean cleared his throat and broke away from your stare, his tongue darted out over his bottom lip again. God dammit, if he doesn’t put that tongue away… You tried not to squirm standing there in your jeans and a tank top. “Uh, actually, Sammy said if you don’t…take care of it,” he waved his hand in front of himself in a circular motion. “It uh, it can be fatal.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” You blinked once, then twice.

“Yeah, uh, you gotta take care of it,” he brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck again. You noticed the way his bicep flexed and tugged at the flannel that covered his arm. The heat in your parties made you think they may actually catch on fire.

“Fuck, Dean,” you groaned and turned to move. The only thing that seemed to bring you any kind of relief was pacing. The friction your jeans caused between your legs was incredible. “What if…” you hesitated as you processed. “What if I try to ‘take care of it’ myself?” You used air quotes and looked back at him.

He seemed to process for a second. “I mean, maybe? I don’t have any idea…” the tension in the room was so awkward. But the more time that passed, the harder it was for you to look at Dean and try to not jump his bones.

“Okay, go to the bathroom…do not come out, you hear me?” You instructed firmly. Dean grabbed his phone and nodded.

“I’ll text Sammy and see if he’s found anything else,” he mumbled and hurried to the bathroom before he closed the door. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw him blush—and Dean Winchester never blushed.

By the time you heard the door click closed, your fingers worked the button on your jeans. As soon as the clasp was freed, you shimmied them down your thighs and kicked them off to the side. You decided to leave your underwear and tank top on, fully aware of the man just on the other side of the bathroom door.

As you dropped down on the bed and sat up against the headboard, your knees parted automatically. The heat that escaped between your legs was so intense that the cool air made you gasp. You closed your eyes as your hand snuck under the band of your black panties. The only thing you could see was Dean…his chiseled jaw, the way it tightened when he was mad, or frustrated or deep in thought; the rough stubble scattered across his lower face and chin; the way his eyes bore into you every time he looked your way. These weren’t new feelings, just feelings you had been able to avoid for so long. Now that the sex pollen had taken over, all bets were off.

Your index finger circled your clit. You tried to be quiet, truly. This situation was awkward enough and you knew the doors in this motel were practically cardboard and didn’t contain the sound. But the moans still fell from your lips hastily. You couldn’t stop them once you started. You dipped your fingers down and couldn’t believe the wetness there; the feeling was overwhelming. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut once more, envisioning the god of a man on the other side of the door. And then it happened. “Ugh, Dean,” his name rolled off of your lips dripped in absolute bliss.

“Uh, you okay in there, sweetheart?” Fuck. He had heard it. The blush rising even stronger in your cheeks literally burned your face. Tears you hadn’t realized had pooled in your eyes blurred your vision.

“God dammit,” you groaned. No matter how hard you tried, you knew this wasn’t working. “I’m uh, I’m fine, Dean.” You hoped it would be enough to appease him.

“Listen, uh, Sammy just wrote me back. He said it’s not gonna work…you, uh, taking care of it yourself,” he cleared his throat twice. Oh awesome, you thought to yourself. Both of the Winchesters know I’m trying to masturbate this spell away… You knew what that meant. Before your brain could process, you heard him again. “You decent? I’m comin’ in.”

You practically squealed and clawed at the comforter to cover yourself. The door to the bathroom creaked open and Dean hesitantly peered around it. By the time he made it into the room, you were mostly covered but your right leg had slipped out under the comforter and Dean caught a glimpse of skin from your foot all the way up to where your underwear sat above your hip.

Your eyes connected and you noticed his jaw tightened. But this time, it wasn’t because he was mad or frustrated…maybe in deep thought, but something felt different; something felt darker than that.

“It’s not working,” you murmured, your chest still heaved with each heavy breath you took. Your fingers gripped the comforter so tightly at your chest, your knuckles were white.

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice somehow sounded deeper than it had moments before. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, or maybe it was the sex pollen. But either way, it made your body tremble.

You followed Dean’s gaze to your leg—he absolutely saw the tremble.

“Listen, I don’t want to make this weird,” he rubbed a hand down his face again. The way his mouth dropped open made the heat rise even more. “But you can’t fix this by yourself.” You knew he was hesitating; hesitating to take it further. You wondered if it was because he didn’t want it, maybe he didn’t want you.

“Help me fix this,” the tears blurred at your eyes again. “Dean, I’m begging you. Everything is on fire. My body literally feels like I’m going to combust.” You hated that your voice cracked, but you were truly starting to freak out. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t wanna do…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean nervously chuckled as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t want you to do something just because you have to…” his voice trailed off as his eyes studied you. Realization set in that Dean wasn’t able to hide his attraction or interest in that moment. His jeans had tightened quite a bit in his groin, revealing a bulge that made you practically pant.

“I need you, Dean. But I also want you,” you practically drooled at this point. “I want you so, so bad.”

Dean’s hands moved to unbutton the buttons to his flannel quickly—you scrambled out from underneath the comforter to where he stood at the end of the bed on your knees to help him with the rest. You gave up after the second button and pulled the two sides harshly apart, sending buttons flying to bounce onto the multicolored carpet below.

“Christ,” he breathed as he moved to undo the metal button on his jeans. Instantly, his hands cupped your cheeks. He paused for only a moment. After one more look into your eyes to make sure this was okay, you met in the middle as your lips crashed against one another.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” the words rolled off of your lips like it was nothing—but it was so much more than nothing. It was something you hadn’t meant to say, but the sex pollen haze made your filter dissipate. Your lips pulled apart with a pop and your eyes found his.

“God, me too,” he almost growled as he toppled you back onto the bed once more. Dean was on top of you, your legs parted automatically. He held himself up with one arm and kissed you in a way you had never been kissed before.

“Dean, I need you to touch me. Please,” the need in your voice was mixed with begging at this point. “Everything is on fire.”

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” his words drawled together, intoxicated with lust. The hand that wasn’t supporting his body weight trailed down your side. He pulled back and sat on his knees, pulling you with him so you were sitting up. His fingers grasped the hem of your tank top and pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion. He reached behind you and masterfully unclasped your black bra. As soon as it fell away, the cool air from the room bit at your already hardened nipples, causing you to hiss out loud.

Just as quickly as he pulled you up, he pushed you gently back to the bed on your back as he settled between your legs once more.

“You’re so god damn beautiful,” he murmured as his lips connected with your neck. He planted hasty wet kisses from just below your ear lobe, down your collarbone to the top of your breasts.

“Dean,” your hips writhed against him. You needed more.

“I know, baby,” he breathed as his hand finally began to trace down your side, his fingertips left goosebumps on their way until they reached your hip bone. He pulled the material of your underwear until they slid off of your hips. He pulled until they were down near your feet where you could kick them off.

His fingertips trailed to your center and circled your clit just as you had done moments before. His index finger slipped easily inside of you before he decided to add his middle finger to the mix.

“Oh,” you breathed out, your head tilted backward so your neck was exposed. Dean took the opportunity happily, his lips sucked and kissed every inch of skin there as he pumped his fingers into you. “Dean, please.” You were doing a lot of begging, but you literally couldn’t help it. You felt like you would implode if he didn’t take you right then and there.

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he murmured against the flesh of your neck.

“I don’t really have time for patience,” you groaned. Dean pulled back for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten this was initiated from the sex pollen to begin with. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed your naked body, his jaw tightened. He quickly pulled off his flannel, within seconds his fingers pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. Next up was his jeans, and then his boxers.

Your body squirmed at the sight–he was stunning. Your eyes trailed down his biceps to his forearms–down his chest, to the delicious V and then…

Your breath got caught in the back of your throat, but before you could gasp for air, his lips were back on you again and you felt his hardness against your thigh. “I don’t have a condom…” he grumbled as his head dropped into the crook of your neck.

“Birth control, Dean,” you mumbled against his hair. His lips found yours again, moving against them as if his life depended on it–and, well, yours sort of did. He pulled back for a moment and found your eyes, as if he was asking if you were sure about this. You knew there was no going back at this point, so you raised your head to capture his lips in yours again. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth gently, which elicited a moan from him.

And then in a second, you felt him enter you. It could have been the sex pollen, but you didn’t think so. The feeling was the most incredible sensation you had ever felt. The way your body fit against his was something you could have never imagined—even in the nights you had drifted off to sleep thinking about what this might feel like.

He moved slowly at first; too slowly to appease the effects of the damn sex pollen. Your hips rose to meet his and you wrapped your legs around his waist, linking your feet behind him at your ankles. He obliged, and angled his body in a way that you could feel absolutely every inch of him inside of you.

“God damn, you feel so good,” he groaned as he pressed his forehead to yours. You had never felt so close to someone in your entire life, and you prayed it wasn’t just another symptom of the pollen.

“You’re tellin’ me,” you moaned as he reached down with the arm that wasn’t supporting his weight and pulled your leg behind your knee so it rested in the crook of his elbow. “Jesus, Dean.” You bit down on your lower lip so hard you thought you tasted blood for a second. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered in that moment.

He rocked against you so hard, the headboard bounced off of the thin wall of the motel room—the picture that hung above you rattled. Nothing mattered.

Dean brought his lips hastily to your ear and kissed just below it before he whispered, “I want you to touch yourself, sweetheart. Let yourself go.” You shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your earlobe and the words he whispered huskily. You could hardly take it.

Your release had already started to build—which wasn’t too surprising, considering how turned on you were to begin with. You snaked your fingers down between your bodies, the feeling of his pelvis crashing against yours sent another wave of goosebumps over your skin.

You began to circle your clit with your fingertip as he secured your leg in the crook of his arm, his bicep flexed tightly. The sensation was overwhelming and you found yourself practically babbling moans and words strung together. “Fuck, Dean. Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” that elicited another chuckle from his lips but didn’t disrupt his movements as he plummeted into you. It felt like he was breaking through your cervix at this point.

“Let yourself go,” he could feel your muscles beginning to twitch around him. His words tossed you over the edge. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

That was it. You felt like your release was practically boiling as it shook you to your core. You saw flashes of color, and your ears were ringing. Dean moved through it for you as you rode the wave. You vaguely heard yourself yell out his name as everything crashed around you.

“You okay? You want me to stop?” He almost winced as his hips urged him to move but he wanted to respect the fact that the spell you were under had most likely dissipated now.

“Don’t stop,” you hurriedly told him as you rocked your hips against him once more. “Your turn.” You leaned up to connect your lips to a sweet spot on his neck, your tongue ran over his stubble and nipped gently which elicited a groan from the back of his throat.

“God damn,” he growled as his pace quickened again. Your muscles still twitched from your orgasm, you thought it might roll into a second wave—which would have been a first for you.

After a few more thrusts from Dean, he practically collapsed on your chest. Your fingertips found his back, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You dug your nails gently as you drew small smoothing circles upon his skin. After a moment, he rolled so he was on his back just beside you.

“That was magical,” your words practically slurred together as the room was filled with heavy breathing from both you and Dean—your chests rose and fell with each breath.

Dean’s eyes were sealed shut, but you saw the grin that pulled at his lips and he chuckled.

“You sure that’s not the sex pollen talkin’?” He drawled, his words etched together as well—a combination of exhaustion and post-sex effects.

You gently bit at your bottom lip and glanced at him from your side of the bed. His eyes were still shut lazily, a slick layer of sweat glistened in the dim light of the motel. Maybe it was still sex pollen remnants, maybe not—but something gave you a sense of courage you had never had before. You leaned over his body and inched towards his face. “Guess we’ll just have to let round two decide…”

His eyes shot open but his grin stretched wider so you could see his bright white smile. His gaze trailed from your eyes to your lips. Just before he leaned up to press his lips to yours, he said, “Guess we will, won’t we?”

And for the first time in your entire life—you were thankful for witches.

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A/N: Eek! I always get nervous posting ~smut~, but here we are! I love hearing what you think, so please don't be afraid to comment! Even if it's something I could work on for next time. Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @nelachu2423 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197

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