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fanboyoff1 · 2 months ago

Text

Landoscar College Fic (2.4k words)

Inspired by this post. It was supposed to be a little drabble but it spiraled

@complementaryhalves Hope I did it justice. It’s not really a meet-cute since they both know of each other (or maybe that counts, idk how meet-cutes work) but I tried my best lol

Oscar really needs to set a second alarm.

He’s several months into college, so you’d think he’d have figured out a good sleep schedule by then. Unfortunately, that has not happened, and Oscar wakes up to sun on his face.

“Ughhh,” he groans, rolling over and pulling his sheets up over his head. It takes him a few seconds to realize there’s no annoying beeping that usually greets him in the morning.

“Shit.” He grabs his phone from the bedside table and jolts up when he reads 8:25 on his lockscreen. “Shitshitshit.”

He tosses his sheets to the side, the old mattress creaking loudly as he stands, rushing because his bus is literally about to leave. Why did he sign up for early classes? Why, why, why? Even his professor Mr. Webber told him it was a bad idea once he’d heard about it, but he’d insisted that it would be fine.

Right now, it’s definitely not fine though. He brushes his teeth at lightning-speed in the communal bathroom, and throws on a navy blue sweatshirt and pants, nearly forgetting his watch. He’ll get a bagel or something for breakfast at school.

Thankfully, he likes to pack his backpack the day before, so all he has to do is put it over his shoulders, rushing down the stairs and out the door into the parking lot to see… His bus rolling away down the road without him.

Oscar drops his hands down from his backpack straps to his side in defeat. He curses the ground and his stupid clock under his breath, kicking at a loose rock. What is he gonna do now?

Well, he could call Logan, ask if he can give him a ride. Or maybe Charles drove today? He glances across the parking lot, but there are around three other cars that look just like Charles’, so that won’t be very helpful.

He’s about to pull his phone out when he hears a car pull out of the lot, wheels making a grainy sound against the asphalt. Oscar quickly backs away from the middle of the road and goes back to his quiet crisis.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

Oscar looks up to see the car that had been leaving stopped in front of him. The person behind the voice is a handsome guy with dark curly hair and tan skin, sitting behind the wheel with one hand dangling out the window. There’s a small flicker of recognition in Oscar’s brain, he must have seen the boy around campus before.

The driver seems to have taken Oscar’s silence as hesitancy, starting to talk again. “I-um, I saw your bus fuck off into the distance, and I figured you could use some help. I live right over there.” He points vaguely to another one of the student campus buildings behind them.

Oscar opens his mouth to politely decline immediately, but stops himself. Does he really for certain have another way to get to school? He remembers how he knows this guy now, he’s friends with Charles. Anyone who’s friends with Charles gets an automatic thumbs up from him, but being in a car with them…

“Yeah, I could use a ride,” he finds himself saying, not totally sure the words are coming from his mouth. The curly haired guy seems equally surprised, but masks it quickly. “O-okay. Just come over to the passenger seat.”

Oscar walks out in front of the car, and opens the door. Any move to sit down is paused by the fact that there’s a football in the seat. The boy turns when Oscar opens the door, looking through his eyelashes at him, and his eyes are really blue from up close. A bit of green too- okay, stop analyzing his eyes, he tells himself.

The driver- Oscar decides to coin him Car Guy- notices Oscar’s predicament and grabs the football, promptly chucking it into the backseat and patting the now empty seat for Oscar, who sits.

He twists his body to face the back of the car. “Do you think you damaged anything with that throw?” he asks, trying to find the football amongst the clutter of the car. There’s a few random clothes, a cardboard box on the right.

“Eh, it’s fine,” Car Guy says with a wave of his hand. Oscar turns back to the front, buckling up. Car Guy notices what he’s doing and buckles up himself with a guilty smile. Oh God, Oscar’s totally going to die.

“Just college campus, I assume?” Car Guy asks, adjusting his rear-view mirror that has a car freshener and a necklace hanging from it. The necklace has a big 4 hanging by the end.

“Yeah,” Oscar sets his backpack down between his legs, and braces when Car Guy starts to drive away. However, he actually seems like an okay driver, despite that seatbelt incident that may haunt Oscar’s nightmares.

After a few streets, he chills out enough to get a proper look at who’s driving him. He has a Texas Bulls shirt on, a hoodie under it, and to top it all off, a green letterman jacket with the number 4 on it. Huh. 4 again. Maybe the number 4 has some kind of significance to him.

He’s really pretty as well, especially up close. His long lashes, his freckles, his hair that looks like it's attempting to be a mullet.

Don’t you dare fall for a jock Oscar, he tells himself. Because that’s what he has to be, right? He has a Bulls shirt, a sporty jacket, and a freaking football in the passenger seat. There’s nothing else he could be.

And he’s still terrified about a stranger driving him somewhere, pretty or not. He takes out his phone and pulls up his messages, finding his last conversation with Dad 2.0 (an inside joke the two of them have.) He frantically texts Charles, asking, ‘Is curly haired boy a serial killer??’

A moment later, he gets a response back, a lot of question marks. Oscar sighs, running his hand through his hair and trying not to let his thoughts spiral into how he may or may not be getting kidnapped.

# # #

Lando’s trying to be cool. He really is. But Oscar’s in his car. He wants to squeal and kick his feet and giggle.

He’s had a crush on the Australian-born boy for a while now, ever since he’d seen him actually. They’d just been passing by each other while walking across campus, but it felt like a world-changing event for Lando (okay, he may be overreacting just a little, but have you seen the man?!)

Once he learned that Oscar was friends with Charles, he came out to his friend as bi and proceeded to spend his entire time with Charles ranting about how pretty Oscar was, or what Oscar was wearing today, or could he get some pictures of Oscar pretty-please?

Needless to say, the Monegasque was tired of his pining fairly quickly. “I don’t understand why you do not just talk to him,” he’d said one day during their lunch break.

“I can’t just talk to him, Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird!”

“How? It’s just talking,” Charles had retorted, biting into his protein bar. “You can say it’s because you are both friends with me or something. There are ways.”

“Well, it- it’s complicated.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a good argument for that Charles, but just know that you’re wrong.”

So Lando had just watched Oscar from a distance (not in a creepy way or anything, just in an adoration way.) Until this morning, when he saw Oscar miss the bus, which was admittedly a little funny, he’d gotten the courage to ask if he wanted a ride. He hadn’t been expecting him to say yes, but he was ecstatic that he had.

Now they’re in the car together, and Lando’s tongue feels like lead whenever he attempts to make small talk. Oscar’s aggressively texting someone, and Lando has had to stop himself multiple times from looking at Oscar instead of the road.

Oscar sighs, running his hand through his swoopy hair. Now’s his chance. “Everything okay?” he asks, drumming a finger against the steering wheel as he waits behind a stop sign.

“Hmm?” Oscar looks up, raising his eyebrows, and Lando might die on the spot. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just texting a friend. You know Charles, right?”

“Leclerc?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I was gonna ask him to drive back and pick me up but… Well I don’t know if you know this, but Charles likes to jog to school sometimes. I wasn’t sure if he had today or not.”

Lando barely processes what he’s said, which feels extremely rude even in his head. But Oscar’s smiling and it looks so cute, and the way his voice changes as he’s trying to stifle a laugh is addicting. “Oh, I think I’ve heard him talk about jogging to class sometimes. One time he texted me at like 6 am, I was so confused when he told me he was at school already.”

Oscar laughs again, and Lando tries to stop the butterflies growing in his stomach. “Ha, yeah, he’s like that. I think he just likes to be early.”

“I know, but 6 am??”

“I’m not defending him!” Oscar says, throwing his hands in the air, the two of them laughing together. Lando feels joy spread through his chest, because Oscar seems more comfortable, he’s smiling and laughing and blushing and he looks so cute.

“Oh my gosh, I have this selfie of Charles he sent to me when he was on a run,” Oscar turns on his phone and started to scroll through his photos, eyebrows furrowed in determination. His hair droops down on his face, and Lando fights the urge to reach out and push it back.

After a minute or so, Oscar bursts out laughing. “Did you find it?” Lando asks. Oscar nods, shoulders shaking, and holds his phone out for Lando to see. It's perfect timing, they're stopped at a red light, so Lando turns his head to inspect the picture.

Charles has a headband and glasses on with no shirt. He must have been running when he took the picture, everything’s blurry and the background is just a mass of green and gray. The most noticeable thing is his face. He’s trying to wink, but it’s more like a squint, and his eyebrows are high up on his forehead. He looks partially like he ate something sour, and like he’s getting chased by a wild animal.

Lando snorts, and Oscar pulls the phone back. “I know right? Apparently, he took the photo and sent it to me without checking what it looked like, so now I have this treasure saved in my phone forever.”

# # #

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, and Oscar regrets thinking Car Guy was someone scary or a jerk. He seems really sweet and funny. And he’s attractive. But that’s besides the point.

Charles had been blowing up Oscar’s phone ever since his vague text about Car Guy, most of it consisting of ‘who the hell are you with’ and ‘answer your phone, you’re freaking me out.’ Oscar replies to his flurry of messages with nvm. It's fine. I’ll explain later

“Is this a good place to drop you off?” Car Guy asks him, and Oscar’s head jolts up. He parked just a few minutes away from his first class.

“Oh yeah, this is perfect,” Oscar grabs his backpack and opens the car door. “Thanks for this,” he says, turning back.

“No problem,” Car Guy says with a smile. He’s got a little gap between his front teeth. “See you around?”

Oscar gives him a thumbs-up and steps out, walking down the winding sidewalk to Mr. Webber’s class in room 222.

Epilogue

Oscar still needed another alarm. He just kept forgetting. And now he was running late again, this time far too late to even try to catch the bus.

He sits on the parking lot curb, about to call Charles (he’d taken his car today,) when a familiar voice calls out to him.

“Dude, you really need to wake up earlier.”

Oscar gives Car Guy a withering glare. He leans back in his car in response, a look of barely concealed fear in his eyes. “Well, do you want a ride or not?”

Oscar sighs and stands, getting in the passenger seat. “No football this time,” Car Guy says with a grin. Oscar can’t help but smile back.

This car ride is a lot less talkative than the last one, a playlist of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus from Car Guy’s phone playing loudly. Oscar puts on an excellent act of pretending his ears aren’t bleeding from the music.

“Thanks again,” he says once they arrive at his stop. He gets his backpack and is about to leave when Car Guy speaks up.

“Hey um, I was wondering if maybe you could repay me by going on a date? With me?”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Car Guy obviously takes this the wrong way, his face reddening. “Never mind. Just… forget I said anything.”

“No,” Oscar says. “I don’t want to forget that. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Car Guy says, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, here’s my number.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a folded Sticky-Note, pressing it into Oscar’s hand. Oscar wonders if he feels the electricity when their fingers touch too.

“Uh, this is gonna sound weird,” Oscar says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But can I get your name?”

“Oh. OH. My name’s Lando.”

“Lando,” Oscar says, testing the word on his tongue. “I’m Oscar.”

“I kinda already knew that,” Lando giggles, and now it’s Oscar turn to blush. “You look cute when you blush.” His face gets a thousand times more red.

“OkIgottagoI’lltextyoubye,” he says, almost stumbling out of the car. Once Lando’s car drives away though, he allows himself a bit of a victory dance, before walking to class with a skip in his step and only one word in his mind. Lando, Lando, Lando.

Okay I kinda hate it 😭 But I don’t really wanna work on it more, so *tosses fanfic at the Tumblr gods and runs*

#lando norris #oscar piastri #f1 #landoscar #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fanfic

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horny-p0et · 3 months ago

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Hi could you write some breeding kink for wilbur ? That ends with sone fluff and a kid and hr would be as a dad of maybe even multiple kids ?

🦭-annon

split the request into two parts, this is the smutty nsfw half and the cute, fluffy sfw part will come soon. entirely smutty stuff so its all under the cut, remember to wear a condom kids lol.

warnings: porn without plot, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, oral sex (male receiving), cum eating, established relationship.

wordcount: 1607

dont like, dni. please just block me and move on.

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"f-fuck, shit- you are stupidly good at that..."

wilbur groaned, hands tangled in your hair as you slid your mouth up and down his dick. you let out a hum of approval, glancing up at him to see his facial expressions. his head thrown back, skin flushed pink as biting his lip so hard it could bleed.

the vibration from your throat has him bucking into your mouth, gagging slightly but you keep your pace. when he's making sounds this good, you don't want to slow down. you grip his thighs, digging your nails into the skin subtly guiding him to stay put- not that it's easy for him to.

"shit, baby. love your mouth, so fucking warm.." he praised, sitting up slightly so he could look at you properly. you make eye contact with him, giving him a wink before sliding down to the base. your nose pressed against the hairs at the base of his dick, swallowing around him. he groans loudly, tugging you off his dick hastily.

you pout at him, a line of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his engorged cockhead. "sorry love, don't wanna cum yet." he said with a lopsided grin, pulling you up so your straddling him and pressing his lips against yours. its a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth. you wrap a hand around the back of his head, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. he's rutting up against your bare stomach, smearing the skin with his pre and your spit.

"come on baby, ride me?" he murmured, trailing open mouth kisses down your jawline and neck until he's nipping at your shoulder. you let out a content sigh, reaching past him to open the bedside table drawer. you grab the box of condoms, letting out a groan of frustration when you find the cardboard box empty.

hearing your sound of annoyance he pulled his head back, watching you show him the box with a frown. "sorry baby, i thought you said you bought more?" you sighed, sitting back on his thighs with a defeated expression. he holds your hips, his thumbs drawing idle circles on the plush skin. he's silent for a while, looking down at his erection still twitching with need.

"i mean, would it be the worst thing in the world if we didn't use protecetion?" he asked in a quiet voice, a cheeky smile on his face. your eyes shoot up to meet this, mouth opened in surprise. you and wilbur had talked about it plenty of times before, taking your relationship to the next level- marriage, kids, you already lived together so it wasn't an insane idea.

"are you meaning what i think you're meaning?" you ask with a small smile, reaching up to cup his cheek with your hand. he gave you a grin. "yeah, i am. i mean, it's not like it'll happen after one go or anything, but.. we can start trying." he clarified, tilting his head into your touch. you bit your lip, knowing it was something you wanted too.

"and you're sure you aren't just saying this because you're super fucking horny?" you tease, using your free hand to gesture to his hard cock. he let out a laugh, brushing some of the sweaty hair from his forehead. "it might be a contributing factor but... the thought of coming inside you, getting you pregnant? sounds like fucking heaven." he said honestly. the desire in his eyes and words sent a rush of arousal between your legs, something primal and animalistic about his hunger for you.

"okay, we can do it." you said after a moment of consideration, his face lighting up into a big grin. he gripped your waist and flipped you onto your back, causing you to squeal in surprise. his mouth is on yours again, his dick poking against your inner thigh as he hovers above you. he pressed his face against your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin. you smirk, sliding your fingers into his hair and pressing him closer. "stop messing around and fuck me already, don't you wanna put a baby in me?"

wilbur let out a grunt in response sitting back and sliding his hands under your knees to open you up wide. "yeah, i really fucking do. wanna fucking fill you with my cum, leave you dripping with it. make you so fucking pregnant, you'll look so hot carrying my kid." he practically growled, his expression hardening to one of pure lust.

he gripped the base of his cock, rubbing up and down your slit. he glance up at you for a final okay, and when you nodded it was everything he needed to see before pressing forward and sliding his thick cock inside you. you both groan, your head rolling back against the pillows while his gaze never leaves where you guys are connected. he pushes forward steadily until his hips are flush with yours, his eyes flickering shut for a moment before snapping back open when you purposefully clench around him.

"sh-shit baby, you are so fucking wet. why haven't we done this before?" he moaned, moving his hands back to the underside of your knees so he can prop you open and beginning to move his hips in a slow, deep rhythm. he's barely pulling out before pressing back deeper each time. "feel so good, like you were made for me."

you give him a lazy smile, looking up at the gorgeous man above you with pure adoration. wilbur seems lost in it, his movements speeding up and bending your knees up to your chest so you're almost folded in half. he keeps shifting the angle of his hips, like he's trying to find some magic angle that'll somehow get you more pregnant. he's panting and moaning, sweat building on his brow as he exerts himself.

you can tell by the expression on his face he's loving every second, something clearly awakened in him at the thought of knocking you up- maybe something he wasn't even fully aware of himself until it was actually happening. he let out a whimper, his hips stuttering slightly. "f-fuck, i'm not gonna last- sorry darling. do you mind? can i.." he looked up at you, practically pleading as he struggling to keep a steady rhythm due to the overwhelming pleasure of your cunt wrapped around him without any barrier between the two of you.

"of course, my love. go on, put a baby in me like you promised." you smirk, noticing the way even your words cause him to whine and speed up. he's slamming into you now, the bed creaking with each movement as he chased his orgasm. you decide to tease him further with your lewd words. "fucking breed me, you want that, huh? knock me up? give me your babies?"

he whimpered pathetically, eyes struggling to stay open as his movements became erratic. "y-yeah honey, wanna get you so fucking pregnant. give you my kid. make you a mummy.. god, shit- fuck i'm-" he doesn't give you much warning before he's using his weight to pin your knees to your chest, gripping your hips and slamming home. he cried out, pressing his face into your neck as he funny comes, spilling deep inside you. you can feel a warmth, a satisfying sensation as he shoots ropes of thick seed inside your welcoming womb.

he's letting out small whimpers and whines, his hips rutting occasionally as he tries to squeeze as much pleasure out of his climax as possible. once its finally over he went limp, his weight pushing the air out of your lungs and hey lay atop you. he pressed his nose into your neck, eyes closed as exhaustion overtook his body. you trail your fingers up and down his back, gently praising him with sweet nothings as he comes back down to reality.

after what felt like a life time he finally sits back up, his skin covered with sweat but undeniably satisfied. with a groan he pulled out of you, wasting no time pressing two fingers back into you to force his cum to stay inside your pussy. "sorry that was so quick, it was just really fucking hot." he murmured, his fingers lazily fingering his seed into your cunt. you shake your head before relaxing back into the bedsheets. "its fine, babe. just means we can do it again another time."

his fingers stop and he looks up at you, a faint smirk curving across his lips. "again, huh? i like that idea." he grinned, finally sliding his fingers out and popping them into his mouth to taste your combined arousal. its an erotic sight you could definitely get used to. you glance down at his cock, still half hard and coated in your juices and his seed. he follows your gaze and begins to pump his dick lazily.

"by again, do you mean in about 10 minutes when i'm ready? cause fuck... i could do that a hundred times and not get sick of that." he said with a small laugh, using his free hand to trail his fingers over your stomach- already imagining how it'll look distended once you start showing signs of pregnancy. you give him a nod, reaching out to grab his bicep as he strokes himself, his cock already twitching with renewed interest. "yeah, maybe you can even get me pregnant tonight if you give me enough loads." you smirked.

wilbur let out a growl of approval, shifting atop your body again and pressing his lips against yours eagerly, ready to fulfil your shared desires again.

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taglist: @lillyspeakz@multifandomhallucinations@xxvalentinezxx@charlidog@bellelikesmcyt @heartofwritiing (reply or send an ask to be added/removed)

#🦭 anon #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #bursona #bursona x reader #bursonas #wss #wilbur x reader #wilbur smut #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you

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azrielsoulmate · 2 years ago

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For a request, what if you're terrified of spiders and one night you find one in your bedroom? Panic, maybe even some screaming and Azriel comes barging in, Truth-Teller in his hand, ready to annihilate whoever dared to hurt you, thinking you're in real danger? Something cute and funny like that?

thank you so much for requesting this, anon! i had so much fun writing this :) i hope it is to your liking!

as always, i’m open to any feedback so do let me know what you think. as you can see, recently i’m on a kinda writing streak hehe so i’ll probably post some more later tonight/tomorrow! also, as before i apologize for any mistakes - english isn’t my first language

genre: fluff

warnings: spiders?

word count: 1424

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Fear of spiders, and all

You hummed in contentment as you turned the page of the novel you were reading. This was just the kind of slow evening you enjoyed the most, the cool spring breeze flowing through the window, your mate in the kitchen cooking something for the two of you to snack on, and your heart warmed at the domesticity of it all. After the war with Hybern and the chaos concerning it, all you craved was to go back to the slow life you and Azriel tried to lead, without thinking of any possible dangers or threats. This was normal, so normal, and you loved the idea of that.

As you tried to focus back on the words on the page you saw a flash of a small black figure in your periphery. You froze and slowly turned your head to the left, and there on the bedside table you saw it. A spider. And they were one the things you feared the most, which sounds sort of ironic considering you’re one of the most skilled warriors of the Night Court, who knows if not even the whole Prythian. However, that conclusion did not stop you from making an excruciatingly high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream. You crawled from under the covers and jumped off the bed, on the floor, a terrified expression on your features. As you continued screaming the small creature kept crawling around, absolutely unphased. Your bare feet were getting cold on the hardwood floors, as you stumbled back, your back hitting the cold wall behind you.

It was a matter of seconds before Azriel barged into your shared bedroom, his shadows pulled taut, ready to alert him of what had put you in danger, his navy blue siphones blazing, Truth-Teller in hand. Azriel scanned the room for any possible threats, his posture ready to kill whoever dared terrify you so much.

When he didn’t notice anything unusual he turned to face you, frowning, concerned lacing his hazel eyes.

“What is it?” he said carefully, and you wondered how he, of all people, the spymaster, managed to miss the monster unawarely crawling on your bedside table “There!” your voice still high-pitched as you pointed toward the creature. Az seemed to have noticed the spider this time, his shoulders slightly slumping as he approached the creature that terrified you so much. He strapped the dagger back to his thigh, and broke down laughing, which caused you to frown and glare at him “What the fuck are you laughing at?” you asked, still alert and scared, your back pressing onto the stone wall.

“Is this what scared you so much, sweetheart?” that caused your frown to deepen as you didn’t quite understand why he even asked. “Yes? Kill it or something, please” you asked, voice small, Azriel’s presence always comforting you, but even it not quite managing to ease your fear of spiders. He chuckled and looked at you, love and adoration in his eyes, not that you could notice it when the spider was still crawling about so close to you, putting you at unease.

He made his way out of the room and you followed suit, clutching his muscled arm as you asked in confusion “Where do you think you’re going?” “To deal with that ever so terrifying creature, love?” His teasing made a crase form in between your brows, but you didn’t bother to ask any deeper as you walked to the kitchen, Azriel’s arm clutched in between your two, cradled close to your chest. “I hate to ask this, I really do, but you need to let go of me, I’m afraid” his eyes burning into you, amusement shining in them, as he cupped your cheek with one of his scarred hands, and kissed the top of your nose. You obeyed and perched up on the kitchen island, content about being away from the spider. Az entered your shared bedroom, a book and cup in hand, which made you ever so slightly confused but you chose to just shrug it off.

Seconds later he was heading for the garden, holding the book, on top of which sat a glass, turned upside down, making for a cage for the spider. And now at the sight of that, it was your turn to chuckle. Because the thought of the feared Shadowsinger Spymaster, strongest Illyrian in existence, and one of the most powerful men ever, gently holding a spider carrying it in order to save it from his terrified girlfriend, was, well quite bemusing. You smiled in adoration at him, and at the fact that this soft side of him was reserved for you only, and you couldn’t help but feel special.

As he was entering the house, he slightly furrowed his brows at your amusement, eyes shining in confusion. He placed the items he used to help the spider on the counter next to you, and got closer to you as you sat perched on the island. He put his hands on your waist and stood between your legs as his shadows surrounded you, gently playing with your hair and the hem of your shirt, as if soothing, comforting you. Azriel, confused as ever, as to why it was now you laughing, asked “What?” “Nothing” you replied, drawing out the syllables and he frowned at your teasing. “Need I remind you that you were the one literally screaming at a completely harmless creature, the size smaller than that of a nail?” he teased, eyebrows raised high as he pulled you closer to him, and just as he was about to open his mouth, probably to tease you further, you pressed your lips against his and kissed him.

He stilled for a fraction of a second, as if surprised but quickly took the initiative, deepening the kiss. You moaned slightly as his tongue explored the depths of your mouth, and pulled on his hair. His arms circled around you, pressing you impossibly closer to him. You gently bit his lower lip, and it was his time to sigh, and moments later you were pulling away to catch a breath. He looked at you, his eyes burning into your figure so deeply, rendering you afraid about melting under his gaze. “Can’t say I don’t enjoy getting shut up like this” he breathed and you smiled lightly.

Concerned laced his features as he put a strand of hair behind your ear “Are you alright now?” you nodded your head eagerly, your heartbeat finally slowing back to normal. He looked at you for a bit longer, as if waiting for any fear or discomfort to appear on your face. When he made sure you were, indeed, perfectly fine, it was him reaching down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss and quickly you were putting your legs around his waist, and pressing your chest to his. He swiftly picked you up and carried you toward the couch where he set you down, breaking the kiss.

“Snacks?” he suggested but you stayed there in silence, eyes wide, your breath not quite back yet. He chuckled and turned around saying “I’ll take that as a yes” and went into the kitchen, leaving some of his shadows to gently caress your skin.

Your gaze was kept on him as he went into your bedroom, and seconds later returned with your long forgotten book in one hand, and a bowl of your favorite snacks in the other. He made his way to sit next to you, hand the bowl into your hands and lay the both of you down on the narrow couch, causing you to lay basically on top of him. He put an arm around your waist and draped a wing over you, creating some warmth. You tucked yourself into him, humming at the warmth radiating from his body. He gave you back your book and asked “Are we reading?” you looked at him over your shoulder “You want to read with me?” a warm sensation filling your chest at the domesticity of this. “Why, of course. What if there’s another spider somewhere here? I need to protect you from those vile, dangerous monsters-” you smacked his shoulders “Oh, shut up already” you murmured causing him to let out a laugh. “Sorry, I’m sorry! I won’t tease you anymore, promise,” he said, kissing the back of your head, breathing in your scent “You know I love you, with the fear of spiders and all.” You huffed but silently basked in the still needed comfort of your mate. “I love you too.”

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel x you #rhysand acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #sarah j maas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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caxde · 9 months ago

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You said I can send requests and I'm gonna take you up on that offer, my friend.

I'm still in my SoftDad!Eddie brain rot. I'm rolling with the "Dada's Princess" here and imagining little Lua making a flower crown for Princess. Or them making them together to both be "Dada's Princess". Because I knowwwww just the sight of it would make Eddie just melt into a puddle.

Also, love your writing and your beautiful mind for creating such a cute story so far!

💜

Omg thank you soo much <33 i love getting request so this is ideal i ran with the flower crowns idea hope you like it <33 feel free to request anything you like!

bright eyes universe drabble ~1.6k girl!dad eddie

Spring was in full bloom.

You had a day off, and you decided to sleep in, letting the sun rays that sneak in through your window slowly wake you up. It was recomforting, the mundane feeling of it all.

So you enjoyed a hot long shower, singing every song that played on the tape that Eddie had gifted you as a thank you to watching over Lua. It had a little of them both, Bowie and The Smiths had been Lua’s idea -that much was clear- Metallica and Iron Maiden had to be his, but the Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac -you thought- Eddie had chosen because he had heard you singing them when you didn’t even notice you were doing so. A level of attention you were just realising now, in that moment as the hot water hitted your sore back.

A slow morning called for a hot tea, like the ones you used to make for yourself before you had any real responsibilities.

Your hair still somehow wet, brushed away from your face, and that gow that a much needed shower left on your face, you felt clean, soft from once. You grabbed the first clean top that was on your folded laundry pile, a baby blue colour that complimented your skin, some washed up dark jeans to cover your legs.

You walked to your porch, wanting to let your hair dry while you just drank your cup.

Little did you know, a little surprised waited in your door.

A letter was hanging on your door, with a small yet thick piece of duct tape.

Lilac drawings of misshaped stars and hearts decorated the page.

It read:

“Duchess Lua of the mighty Hawkins Trailer Park would like to invite Princess to her court outing this afternoon. We shall have a refreshing picnic by the lake, please, confirm your assistance with Eddie the Once Banished.

Sincerely your dearest friend, Duchess Lua Munson.”

It made you giggle, and blush at the same time. You could tell Eddie had put some thought into it, and the drawings Lua had made to the best of her ability made you want to keep this letter forever.

Which you did, you folded neatly, letting it rest on your bedside table, before you found a place in your wall to hang it on.

You walked back up. The cup let out a clicking sound when the little spoon made contact with it, once you set it down into the floor.

You sat on the little steps, writing on your little pad that was pressed against your thighs, a response that was just as grandiose as the ask had been.

It read:

“Princess is more than happy to accept her Duchess Lua Munson invitation, and would like to know at what time she’s expected to arrive at her delightful trailer for the outing. Princess would like to inform Lady Munson that she’s excited to see her, and will make a treat for the picnic.”

You decided to leave a little red kiss as your signature. A little present that Eddie will cherish for a longer time that you had thought.

A stupid thought crossed your brain -more than a thought, an image- the two letters resting side by side, the paper now turning yellow, framed on a wall that the both of you share, Lua’s older now, maybe not the only daughter.

You had to shake your head, so you wouldn’t get too caught into the dream, snap back into reality.

Maybe it was stupid, or a bit childish but you were excited nonetheless. You switched your jeans for a flowy white sundress, the skirt reached your knees, the fabric had a faded small flower print all over. It was girly, but it was also spring, and for once, you didn’t care.

Your hair was free of any ponytails, or buns or anything like that, and it felt good to let it fall down, being so used to pushing it away from your face when you were working.

Eddie was a bit lost in you, not really focusing on what he should.

Lua was holding your hand, and you both were walking in front of him. He was holding the bags with the food and everything you had prepared -with the added things he already had- and he let himself be lost onto the fantasy.

Lua was telling you about the book he had just started reading for her as a bedtime story, and you kept asking questions, and she yapped in her mumbling voice as much and as excitedly as she could. He saw himself in her in those moments, when her tongue moved faster than her brain and she’d choke on her own words. Her free hand swanged in the air, and when she got caught on a word, she touched it, as a way to comfort herself. Eddie was starting to struggle to not tell you right there how he was feeling. How he was starting to get those scary big feelings. How he could actually see a life with you in it.

Eddie didn’t want to scare you.

So when you got close enough to the Lover’s Lake, and while you and Lua looked around for some spring flowers, he set the cloth down, the little sandwiches he had made on one side, chips for Lua, and a bit of cheese that you liked on the left side. The sponge cake you baked, and the rest of your -half eaten- chocolate bar on the right side. He got the drinks, begging you not to spend more things.

He got a thermos of your favourite tea -he had finally learned how to make it and was eager to see your reaction- water and chocolate milk for Lua, and soda for him. Though deep down he knew he’d end up drinking your tea.

He opened his arms as soon as he saw Lua running to him, her arms opened, her fist holding tightly to the wildflowers she had picked, you followed her closely, your laughter filling the air in his lungs.

You kept laughing, everytime Eddie found something new to do, just so he could hear you. And in consequence, Lua chuckled along. From afar, it already looked out of a picture book, but what he couldn’t quite understand is how it felt like it too.

“Dada?” Lua asked, once she had finished her piece of cake, spinning around so she could look at him.

“Yeah?”

“Can you braid?” She pointed at her hair, a question he had to avoid a bit too often.

“Bug, I’m rubbish at it, you know it.” He tried to plead with her, once again his voice gave in, breaking a bit. He had a tendency to do that when he had to tell her no, as if it would soften the blow.

“Please?” She asked again, her eyebrows raising just like he did when he was asking for something he deeply wanted. You had seen that look when he didn’t want you to leave, or he wanted another kiss. With a soft giggle, you looked at the little scene, hoping to not intrude too much.

“I can, if uh… if that’s okay.” Lua cheered and sat on your lap before you even knew if it was okay or not.

You knew it was, Eddie had that thank you look on his face.

He decided to do what he actually had learned, way back when he wasn’t living here, back when his mother lived. He knotted some of the wildflowers together, concertraing enough on it that his tongue covered his top lip, hearing his mother's voice singing low one to the top and knot over and over in his head.

For once it wasn’t a painful memory.

Rather a joyful one.

Now it was his two little princesses and his mother’s voice.

He placed it on top of your head, a kiss on your temple following it shortly after.

“What’d you do?” You asked, touching your head with care.

“Your crown, you needed one.” He points out, Lua’s eyes widened as she saw it.

“No braid but yes crown?” She asked, not really believing the ability his dad had been hiding from her.

“You know what we can do?” You asked her, trying to distract them both from the way your blood rushed to your cheeks. “Look.” You whispered it to her, as if it were a secret you both shared.

You started grabbing the wildflowers that were scattered around the cloth, placing the stems in between the knots of her braids, small flowers blooming from her hair. As soon as Lua realised what you did, her hand touching it with as much care as she could gather she started screeching from laughter, a type of laugh that not only warmed you, but Eddie as well.

She kind of jumped, though it felt more like a push, to your arms, screaming thank you repetitively, her excitement evident in her tone and gesture.

Eddie just looked at the both of you, his little dream -much similar to yours, even if you didn’t know- nearing the reality right in front of him.

You whispered to him, still holding Lua close to you “You’re full of surprises, huh?”

“Anything for my girls.” The sincerity in which he said it made you blush, the widest smile on your face as you shook your head at him.

“Idiot” You mouthed, no actual sound coming from you, careful that she wouldn’t hear a bad word.

He inched closer to you, leaving a kiss on the highest point of your cheek, right next to your ear.

“Hopefully yours.” He whispered.

A promise he intended to keep.

requests! are open

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n @sunshineandwitchery @supernaturalstilinski @womencriedpower @saramelaniemoon @cultish-corner @babyloutattoo89 @witchwolflea @serenadingtigers @readergf @guineveresghost @saramelaniemoon @angel-upon

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slaymybreathaway · 2 years ago

Text

Jersey (Charlie Conway x reader)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 833

Masterlist

I woke up to Charlie's arms wrapped around my waist, our legs were entangled and my head resting against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat.

We won last night's game and my legs are aching, Coach Orion kept me on the ice the whole game. We won 6 - 2 and the whole team was going out for Pizza to celebrate. I looked at Charlie's alarm clock and it showed 10:30.

I carefully tried to untangle myself without waking up my sleeping boyfriend. I slid out from under his grip and stood up. He started to stir and I was scared that I woke him up. He turned over and settled down.

I looked through the overnight bag that I had packed to stay In Charlie's.

Denim shorts and a red tank top with a black and white flannel to go over it.

Then I thought of a better idea, I walked over to Charlie's wardobe and opened the door. His green Duck's jersey was hanging up on a hanger. I took it down, grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom to get changed.

________________

Charlie's P.O.V

=============

I woke up at 11 and immediately noticed that y/n wasn't there. Instead, there was a note on my bedside table.

My Dearest, Charlie

I'm going to Connie's before we go for food, love you

Y/n

Is it weird that just seeing her handwriting made me blush? Ok it's probably a little weird.

I got up and brushed my teeth. I decided that I would wear my green Duck's jersey because we won.

I ruffled my hair in the mirror and opened my wardrobe. My white jersey was there but not my green one. It can't be in the wash beacause I haven't worn it in like a week. I can't ask my Mom either because she has already left for work.

"Odd, where is it?" I thought but didn't think much about it and put my white jersey on with a pair of jeans.

___________

Your POV

=========

I knocked on the door of Connie's house and her Mom answered the door.

"Oh hello y/n. How are you sweetie?" she asked and let me in.

"I'm doing great, my legs are a bit sore after last night's game but that's alright. Where is Connie?" I said.

"Oh she's up in her room dear," She said and went into the kitchen.

I ran up the stairs and could hear 'About a Girl' by Nirvana being blared from Connie's room.

I knocked on the door snd she told me to come in.

When I walked in she looked at me confused and said "Why is your j- WAIT... Turn around."

I turned around and Connie started laughing. "Look at you! Soon to be Mrs. Conway," she joked.

"haha I wish. I just stole his jersey," I giggled and sat down.

"You guys are so cute I cannot deal. So how was your sleepover? Did you..." she raised an eyebrow.

I threw a pillow at her "NO! Connie, god. We just watched a movie,"

Connie laughed "Ok, ok... Sure you did,"

I stayed in Connie's for an hour or two before heading to Tommy's Pizzaria.

_________________

Charlie's POV

==============

I was walking to Tommy's with Goldberg around 2 and talking about y/n.

"Dude, you never shut up about her. I understand why though, she is hot. Let's say if you... Mysteriously break up for some unknown reason. Can I have her?" Goldberg asked, which made me laugh.

"Haahha I hope you're not planning to kill me now Goldie... And It's bold of you to assume that she would want you," I winked.

"Well yanno I am irresistible," Goldberg flexed his non-existent muscles.

We walked in and the bell rang above us. I looked around for the team and saw them with 2 big tables pulled beside each other. Everyone was there except Goldberg and I.

I saw y/n sitting down, deep in conversation with Fulton. She was wearing her green jersey but It seemed a little big on her. I looked again and realised that she was acctually wearing my jersey.

It looked great on her though. Of course it was a bit big but... right yanno. It might have been that the name Conway was plastered across her back. It showed everyone that she was with me and it made me think about how good Y/n Conway sounded.

I could feel my face getting hot. Goldberg noticed what y/n was wearing beacause he nudged me.

"Nevermind, doesn't look like she'll be leaving you anytime soon," he winked and went to sit beside Julie.

Y/n looked up and her eyes lit up when she saw me,she beckoned me over to sit on the seat next to her.

I sat down and kissed her on the cheek, and whispered in her ear" So that's where my jersey went."

#charlie conway x reader #charlie conway #the mighty ducks #mighty ducks #ice hockey #hockey #joshua jackson #emilio estevez #joshua jackson x reader

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1-beansss-1 · 1 year ago

Text

~ Feverish ~

Simon petrikov x gn!reader

Brief summary - you have a bad fever, and Simon comes over and cares for you.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You woke up feeling terrible, your nose was stuffy, your throat was sore, you were shivering, you sat up putting your arms around yourself for warmth, you got up and walked to the bathroom, you did your normal morning routine, you looked in the mirror.

"I feel like shit.. I look like it, too.."

You said, your voice was hoarse and you audibly sounded stuffy.

"Sound like shit..."

You said and yawned a bit. You went out to the kitchen where you had a meditation cabinet. You pulled out a thermometer and took your temperature.

"Holly.. I'm going back to bed.."

You were running a high fever, luckily you always had medicine just in case you were sick. You took some for your stuffy nose but didn't have anything that helped a fever.. you sighed and walked back into your room. You laid down and pulled the covers over you. You felt very cold. You suddenly remembered that you made plans with simon for later in the day, You grabbed your phone that was on the bedside table and texted simon

'Hey, Im so sorry to camcel but jm very sick rn.. I have a hih fever'

You started to fall asleep as you typed. You sent it without noticing the typos and fell asleep. You woke up to your phone ringing, you answered

"..hello?"

You were groggy still and felt a little woozy due to the fever. You rubbed your eyes and yawned.

"I saw your message.. are you alright?"

Simon answered, and he sounded slightly worried.

"I'm fine.."

You said as you fell back asleep, you still had your phone up to your ear.

"You sound tired.. try to get some rest, ok?"

He said and heard quite snoring from his phone. He smiled and let out a small sigh.

"... You already are.... sweet dreams.."

He said, hanging up the phone. Simon finished up with his exhibit, closing it early. He started to walk to your house and on the way he started to think about making you soup. He walked over to the nearest market and bought all the ingredients he needed.

He got to your house and opened the door. He walked inside, making sure he was quiet so he would disturb you. He walked to the kitchen and started to cook. He cut up the vegetables and boiled some water, humming as he cooked.

You woke up to the smell of food and walked out to the kitchen. You were still half asleep. You walked up to simon and put your arms around him.

"..Mmm... I love you.."

You mumbled, pressing your body against him. Simon's face turned bright red when you said that,

You clearly meant it in a platonic way, right?

Simon thought and started to overthink. He had been battling his feelings for you for a while, only recently entertaining the idea in his head.

The sound of you snoring quietly snapped him out of thought.

"You poor thing.."

Simon said, turning around. He had an arm around you so you wouldn't fall over.

"You're that sick, huh?"

He looked at you. He looked concerned. He didn't know how you were sleeping standing up. He picked you up and started to carry you back to bed.

You woke up, confused. You couldn't tell if this was a dream or not.

"simonnn..I..I don't feel good.."

You whined.

"I know...I know.."

He said, putting you down in the bed and pulling the covers around you. He put his hand on your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. He quickly pulled away when he realized what he was doing and stood up.

"I gotta go back to the stove.. I'll be back soon, ok?"

He said with a gentle smile. You grumbled a bit and frowned, you were pouting.

He blushed slightly. You were being way too cute for him.

"Go to sleep. You won't even notice I'm gone"

You nodded, your eyes were already closed, and you quickly fell asleep. He sighed and walked out of your bedroom.

"Focus, simon! ...You're here to take care of them...."

He mumbled to himself as he returned to the stove. He focused back on cooking. He stirred the pot a bit and tasted it.

"Mm Almost ready.."

He said with a smile. He got a bowl down and waited for the soup to be done. When it was, he turned off the stove and scooped out some in a bowl. He grabbed you a spoon and walked into your room. He sat down the bowl on your bedside table and gently shook you awake.

"Hey... I made you some soup."

You whined slightly when he woke you up, and you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

He put some pillows behind you to prop you up. He handed you the bowl of soup. You grabbed it and hunched over it, putting the bowl closer to your face. Simon sat down at the foot of your bed watching you eat. He was worried about if you liked the soup or not. He looked at you, looking for an indicator that you liked it.

"Mmm.. good soup.."

You mumbled in-between bites. Simon sighed in relief. He was glad you liked it. When you were done, you sat it down on the bedside table. He got up and tried to grab the bowl, but you grabbed his wrist.

"Simon.. come here.."

You mumbled sleepily and squeezed his wrist slightly. You didn't want him to leave you alone.

He leaned on the bed and looked over at you.

"Yes?"

He said, tilting his head a bit. You grumbled, you wanted him closer.

"Simon.."

You whined, squeezing his wrist a bit more.

"What is it? Do you need something?"

He smiled sweetly. He found you calling him adorable.

You put your arms around him and pulled him in the bed. You were surprisingly strong in your feverish and loopy state.

"W-What are you doing?"

Simon said, falling on top of you. He caught himself so he would squish you.

You pulled him closer, making him lay on top of you. You just wanted some comfort when your whole body hurt and when you couldn't think.

Simon tried to gently move off of you. He thought he would make your fever worse, but you squeezed him tighter, not letting him move.

"Alright.. alright.."

He mumbled. He felt his cheeks burn. You nuzzled your head into his neck, making him even more flustered. You fell asleep, snoring slightly.

He started to think.

this is just platonic, right? No way you liked him.. friends did this all the time!

He convinced himself. He took his glasses off and put them on the bedside table. He closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep.

In the morning, you woke up, keeping your eyes closed. You grumbled slightly. You didn't wanna be awake. You felt that your fever had calmed down a bit. You were actually having coherent thoughts.

You were so loopy and out of it yesterday you could barely think. You couldn't remember if what happened yesterday was a dream or not.

You realized that something heavy was on your chest. You opened your eyes and looked down at Simon. Well, this part wasn't a dream. you blushed, feeling embarrassed about yesterday. Simon rolled off of you and sat up slowly. He rubbed his eyes. Simon looked over at you.

"How long have you been awake?"

He said in a sleepy voice. He looked over at you, squinting so he could see a little better.

"Uh.. couple of minutes..give or take.."

You said, sitting up on the bed, smiling at him.

"How's your fever...?"

"Better, I don't feel out of it anymore.. I can actually think"

You said, giggling a bit. He blinked, trying to wake up. He was thinking about what you said. It took him a bit to process it since he just woke up.

"Oh, that's great!"

He said as he woke up a bit more. You nodded, your face was still flushed.

He leaned closer to you.

"You're redder than yesterday.. are you sure you're alright?"

Your body stiffened as he got closer towards you. You leaned back in embarrassment.

"Yes.. well, I think I still have a slight fever, but it's not as bad?"

You laughed nervously. He leaned closer to you and put the back of his hand on your forhead. It wasn't as bad as yesterday, but you were still burning. He felt your cheek to check, too.

"Hmm.. your cheeks are hotter than your forhead... you should get more rest."

He said, his face full of concern. You nodded and laid back down. Simon got up and grabbed his glasses, putting them on. He turned to you and pulled the covers over you. He smiled and turned around to walk out the room.

"S-Simon...could...could you stay.. please? I know you stayed with me last night... but I don't want you to leave me.."

You looked at him with big pleading eyes.

He looked at you, his face was red. He couldn't say no to you, even if he wanted to. He nodded and walked over to the bed and sat down next to you.

"Thank you.."

You smiled at him and let out a sigh.

"..I'm sorry you have to stay.."

You said as your expression changed, you looked upset. Simon turned to look at you. He moved some hair out of your face.

"I don't have to stay.. I'm here because I want to.. because.."

He paused for a bit, he stopped himself from saying what he wanted. He was way too embarrassed to tell you what he was thinking.

"Uh... because I want to make sure you're alright.."

You smiled, he knew exactly what to say to make you feel better, he always knew. You yawned a bit and drifted off to sleep. He smiled at you. He gently ran his fingers through your hair. He enjoyed this closeness, but he started to think.

Was this fair to Betty? Was he betraying her by being this close to you? Was he taking advantage of you while you're sick?

He didn't even know if you liked him back. He put his hands on his head and let out a loud sigh.

In your sleep, you threw your arm on him, kinda slapping his chest, pulling him out of his own head. He chuckled a bit. It was almost like you knew he was overthinking.

He looked around the room and saw the bowl on the bedside table. He got up, and you grumbled a bit.

"I know.. I'll be back, I promise.."

He said and picked up the bowl. He walked out of the room. He put the bowl in the kitchen sink, and a bookshelf caught his attention. He walked over and ran a finger across the spines of the books. One caught his attention, and he picked it up. He walked back to your room and sat down next to you and started to read. You rolled over to him, putting your arms around him.

Mabye, it was alright to just stay like this with you.. just for a little while longer..

He thought to himself before he started to read again.

#simon petrikov #simon x reader #simon petrikov x reader #adventure time #adventure time fionna and cake #fionna and cake #writers on tumblr #beginner writer #fanfic #adventure time fanfic #Bbean's writing

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starlordcumidk · 7 days ago

Text

New Kind of Love

~chapter 2~

word count: 3.2k

notes: slight ooc, reader wears glasses, this is an AU of TASM!Peter where he is a fraternity brother. reader is portrayed as rude/stand-offish. reader is a tad neurodivergent. playful banter. please read this knowing that i am a newer author and the plot is based on a song.

warnings: not proofread, minor cursing? does that count?

author note: i am not super proud of this chapter but i really am losing my own plot atp

I can't help myself And you don't have to say that

Monday, October 28th, 2024

The weekend was spent debating on if you should or shouldn’t add Peter into your contacts. After a heavy debate, you messaged Delilah, hoping she would have some good advice for you in your time of need.

you: lillaahhhhhh i need help :(((( Delilah: whats wrong ? you: you know that weird spider guy in the courtyard i was telling you about? Delilah: uhhhhh kinda. why ? you: me and him have to work on a project for my science class together and he wants me to add him into my contacts you: but he's kinda dumb, so i haven’t yet. he even called me ‘trouble’????! you: i don’t think it’s a good idea Delilah: u got a pet name, cute just add him dude idk you: noted. i’ll input his contact i guess. Delilah: happy to help bb <33 talk soon

You groan and put your phone onto your bedside table. English was cancelled this morning so you get a few more minutes to evaluate your life decisions before having to meet up with Peter. He was… a lot to handle, honestly. He left a note on your desk this morning, very middle-school-boy-esque. It was still in your pocket, a little wrinkled but it felt like it was burning a hole.

‘Trouble- come to the frat party this friday? Check yes or no :))’

Obviously, you were not going to be caught dead at that party. Nothing he said would have pushed you to. Humid air and sweaty bodies bumping into one another, alcohol smells swirling in the air– the thought alone made you sick.

You hated the way he was so… forward. It was weird, you didn’t get it. So many things about him intrigued you, and you didn’t get it. Why was he the one person in your handful of years at this school that piqued your interest? It made you angry, sick to your stomach, a weird flutter deep in it that made you want to punch something.

A ding from your phone signals a new email, leaning over slightly, you grab it and see the devil’s name.

—-------------

<[email protected]

Hey trouble, my class ended early. Wanna meet up soon?

Peter B. Parker

Get Outlook for iOS>

—-------------

You groan and send a quick reply agreeing, asking where he wanted to meet today and if he had any new notes to share. Standing from your bed to grab your shoes and a light jacket, you feel your phone buzz again.

—-------------

<[email protected]

You still in Siebert Hall? I'm right by there, we can meet up at your dorm or the courtyard?

Peter B. Parker

Get Outlook for iOS>

—-------------

Your heart leaps as you look across your room, examining the space and hoping it wasn’t a mess. There were some snack wrappers here and there and you immediately feel the itch to clean. Before you can even think to respond, you tidy up. You make your bed and turn on the floor lamp in the corner to make the space look less cold.

Once it was to your liking you sent a response telling him which floor and room was yours in Siebert this school year. You’d rarely had anyone but Delilah and your parents in your room. Well, outside of the one guy you hooked up with for a few weeks on and off your freshman year. But that was always in the dark and he never got to stay longer than an hour or two.

After a few minutes there's a knock at the door, and you move quickly, opening it and looking up to meet Peter’s stupidly pretty eyes.

“Hey there,” he says your name again, and you may like the way it sounds when he does, “ready to get our hurricane on?” His stupid smile accompanies the words and you step aside for him to come in.

“Hey, yea. Come on in.” You say before he nods, walking in and looking around at all your posters, nick-nacks and even just the pattern of your bed spread.

He points to the ceiling light and has a raised brow. “Not a fan of the school issued LED rods?”

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not really? It overwhelms my eyes.”

“No me too, I get it. I like the coziness here.” His arms gesture to your bed, and your left to just stare at him. He took up so much space in your small room, but it looked almost natural.

“Uh- thanks. You can sit there while we do our research if you want?” You offer it before you can think straight, quickly regretting your decision.

It's almost like a flash of lightning, he is quickly sitting on your bed, shoving his shoes off and onto the rug just below. He is so naturally fit to your space and it knocks the sense out of you. Your eyes are locked onto him as you stand just a few feet away from him. He smiles at you, showing off his slightly crooked lips before digging into his bag, pulling out his laptop and a very, very nice camera.

“You let your laptop get destroyed but have a well taken care of camera?” You ask before sitting at your desk and opening your own laptop, a small laugh escaping you.

“Well I need the camera way more than the computer, obviously.” He said with a touch of irony, a playful grin on his face.

“Really?” You said incredulously, fighting back a smile.

“Yea. I mostly take pictures of nature. Some spiders, some portraits.” He shrugs, his sarcasm dropping entirely, and before you can say anything he starts typing on his laptop and speaks again. “I did some research over the weekend. Did you know that hurricanes and tropical storms are named alphabetically?”

“Yea. I’ve lived through a handful.” You shrug and start up your outline file, looking at where you left off last time you were with him. It was pretty barren and you started to slowly fill out your portions.

“I mean me too, I just never pieced it together. We’re gonna have to name ours something special.” He spoke so gently as he folded one leg under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your bed.

“Like what?” You look up at him, your eyes locking on his bent over frame, something endearing about how he was squinting his eyes at the laptop screen.

He shrugged, his fingers thrumming softly against the keyboard, something in his mind turning before looking up at you. “Benjamin? Gwendolyne, maybe?” His voice isn’t the usual cheery, all confident tone. There’s something more behind it, and if you were better at social cues, maybe you’d understand it.

“We can go with either one, whatever you’d like.” You speak gently, trying not to offend or sound rude in any way. The look on his face is drawing you in, the downturn of his mouth, the slight fog in his eyes, it’s so… beautiful.

Peter nods and quickly turns back to look at the computer, editing the shared document. But you just keep staring… the way the light from your window is filtering in casting a blue glow on his face, his eyes flashing golden, the freckles that were almost hidden popping out. For whatever reason, you couldn’t help but feel captivated by it all.

You must’ve been staring for a while, because when Peter let out a soft chuckle and looked up at you, you felt embarrassed.

Your attention quickly moved back to the screen in front of you where you read some of the portions he had filled out while you were ogling at his unrealistic features. The embarrassment faded into anger, red hot and biting at your cheeks.

“It’s okay to stare.” He said, cockily, laying back against your bed.

Oh you could kill him right now. You typed angrily, ignoring the words he said, ignoring his presence.

He said your name once, twice. The third time made your ears ring, but you kept typing out random, probably false, hurricane facts into different parts of your half of the outline. His gaze was burning into your face, feeling his eyes roam over the slope of your nose, the way your lips were tightened into a flat line, and then it was gone.

You could have sighed in relief that he finally stopped examining your face until you saw that stupid orange line blinking next to your cursor.

you’re kinda cute when you're embarrassed

Everything in you stalled before you cleared what he wrote after your tidbit on the casualties of the last hurricane. He barked out a laugh and you groaned, sinking into your desk chair.

—-------------

The session went quick after that, ending with you shooing him away and locking the door behind him. It was going to be a very long, very painful semester with him.

You reach for your phone to text Delilah and pause, deciding it would be better not to.

—-------------

Wednesday, October 30th, 2024

You were late to class, rushing down the hall as you double checked your phone for the nth time. The decision to go into the lecture hall through the back door was made way before you reached the science building.

But now, entering the back of the room, eyes meet yours as you huff out a breath. Catching your breath was hard as you stared at your usual seat, taken by some random girl you never noted or cared to learn the name of. It made you angry, sure they weren’t assigned seats but everyone knew that once someone sits somewhere more than once it’s their seat by proxy.

Before you could stew over it a hand tugged at your backpack strap, making you falter a bit and look down, seeing Peter smile up at you and nod to an empty desk right next to him.

It was either there or on the floor… you chose the former and quickly took out your notebook, looking up towards the front of the class and having to squint. You yearned for the new pair of glasses that was taking a million years to get to you.

But Peter put his notebook on your desk, tapping it and leaning ever so slightly. “It’s one of her lengthy presentations.” His hand snaked over the back of your chair and you blinked at the words, no, paragraphs in front of you.

You give him a small nod as thanks before copying his notes and catching up on the slides currently flashing over the screen as Dr. Howard drones on.

Peter watches you the whole class, his chest tight as you focus on the lecture he decided the moment you walked in wasn’t important enough to listen to. You were taking over all his senses, he could hear each huffed breath when the professor changed the slide before you finished taking notes, the smell of your shampoo, perfume, perhaps it was a strangely floral detergent. Whatever it was, his nose was lathered in it.

He almost hated that his heightened sense made him so aware of you, aware of everything that could signal to him that you were in the room. In any room.

Yesterday he could hear you talking on the phone from across the courtyard, he searched for you, left his frat brothers on the grass patch to try and find you but you’d disappeared. He waited to hear your voice again, but there was nothing, no sign of you in the courtyard anymore.

And now, as he watched you scribble down your notes, watched you chew on your lip, it made his mind wander, imagining what could possibly make you think so hard your teeth found a home there.

It was too much for him, even when the alarm sounded from the speakers in the room. The same stupid one that sounded every class period, and you finally looked at him and furrowed your brows, giving him that beautifully crafted look of skepticism.

“Thank you.” It sounded so surreal as he blinked a few times and realized you had his notebook held out for him. When he took it he realized you’d erased and respelt some of the words in his notes.

“You rewrote a part of my notes?” He asked with a raspy laugh, shaking his head a bit as he saw your curved lettering, staring at the way you tried to blend it in with his handwriting.

You just shrugged and carefully pulled your bag back over your shoulders. “You misspelled sequestration. Thought I’d save you the point on the next notebook quiz.” Something about that made his heart pound in his ears and he stood slowly from his seat, tucking the notes into his bag and examining your expression. It was usually cold, steely, and… right now it seemed a little softer before you cleared your throat and made to move around him.

“See you in the free period, Peter.” You spoke so softly, so distant. He watched as you disappeared with the hoard of classmates filing out of the lecture hall. And then his phone buzzed, he looked at it and saw a short text.

i’ll be in study room e, btw - ”trouble” (stupid nickname)

He felt a little triumphant that he now had your number, a small part of him wanted to click his heels, maybe even skip to his next class.

—-------------

Noon came all too quickly, but you were already in the study room you specified when you had messaged Peter. A part of you felt like an idiot giving him your number that way. Maybe you should have made him work for it, but it was too late now.

You had your textbook out and typed out a few things, humming a song to yourself. Gently tapping your foot to the beat as you get lost in your work. Time faded away as you continued, finding the different ways a community could rebuild after a category five hurricane.

The clock ticked a bit louder, causing you to rip your bleary eyes up and look at the time. It was already one o’clock. A pang of disappointment rattled in your chest but you shook your head, continuing to work anyway, who needed his help anyway….

Then your phone buzzed, and you opened it to see a text from him.

Peter: Got caught in something. Be there soon, Trouble, I promise.

And it made your stomach flip a little. A stupid feeling, you told yourself. But you quickly messaged back.

you: if you’re not here in 15 minutes, i’m leaving

Peter: I promise, ten minutes, maybe less.

You didn’t respond, you just put your phone down and went back to work, a mental reminder to leave when the fifteen minute window you allotted him in the forefront of your thoughts.

But, just as he promised, he walked in about nine minutes after he sent his last message. His hair was mussed, as if he had a hat on a few minutes ago and his skin was sheen with sweat.

“Sorry I’m late, I got stuck at the frat house because the underclassmen are… I think they’re trying to manipulate me out of the master bedroom.” He laughed, something hidden under it, you could sense it but don’t push.

“I won’t wait forty-five minutes for you again.” You said it gently, but there was a bite to it, one you hadn’t intended to use.

Peter sucked in a breath, deciding what to say as he pulled out his laptop, looking at you for a long pause. “Technically,” he paused, looking at your hands as you typed before continuing about twenty seconds later, “I was only thirty-nine minutes late.”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes and your nostrils flared a bit and he laughed, his stupid boyish laugh. Something in you bloomed, but it wasn’t anger, maybe it was bemusement. “Peter, hands, laptop, type.” You started to over-exaggerate your typing, rolling your eyes as you focused on your screen again.

He let out a small breath, still amused at your look but gave into the order, but not without saying “Yes ma’am.”

God you could hit him, flexing your fingers over the keyboard was all you could do to fight the urge.

You both sat in silence, the only sound ringing through the study room was the clicking of keys and small sighs– mostly from Peter. Until you got lost in your research again and started humming, tapping your foot.

After what felt like maybe 30 minutes, you took a glance up at Peter, chewing on his lip and squinting at the computer screen in front of him. The crinkle of his eyes made his eyelashes look impossibly long, complimenting his impossibly beautiful eyes. The sight of him was continuously making you think like an artist, over examining his eye color and the way his nose was slightly pink.

You kept staring though, trying to pinpoint exactly what about him made you feel so… interested. What on his face made you want to stare at him? Was it the freckles? The dimple when he smiled, which was on full display at the moment.

Why was he smiling right now? Then you looked up at him and realized he was staring right back at you, smiling. It made you blink a few times, knowing he caught you staring again.

You felt the nerves build back up, embarrassed that he caught you staring twice, but more embarrassed that you’d been staring at him at all. The nape of your neck heated and you thinned your lips into a tight line.

“You, by the way, are cute when you’re embarrassed.” His voice was filled with playfulness as he spoke, his chin resting over the back of his laptop.

“You don’t have to say that, Peter.” You say, aggravated and trying your best not to get mean.

“I can’t help myself.” He shrugs, the curls on his head bouncing a bit. “You’re cute.”

You groan and stand up, gathering your things from the table and his gaze follows you the whole way up. The fact he kept saying it felt like you were in middle school again, being the butt end of the joke.

“Wait, we still have fifteen minutes left-” he says nervously, standing along with you. “Why are you leaving?”

You shake your head, looking at the bag in your hands before forcing a small smile. “I just need to get across campus for my next class.” And then you shrug your bag on, walking out the door and making quick work to leave the library all together.

Peter just stares, watching you walk away, feeling only a little guilty for making you so upset.

—-------------

Friday, November 1st, 2024

Your classes got cancelled, even Dr. Howards and you let out a huff of relief before rolling back into the comforts of your bedding. You slept in for hours longer than you should have, but it felt good to have a day off from school.

That was until noon came around and you got a text from the absolute devil himself.

Peter: Hey, Trouble, we’re still meeting today right? You groaned at the sight of his text. The day you were wanting was spent entirely in bed, by yourself, watching Spider-Man videos on YouTube with no interruptions. So you texted him back a quick response. A simple

you: no.

And went back to the video posted by fartslinger55, not the best account to it was of Spider-Man saving a handful of people from a burning deli, the sound of his webs catching the brick buildings debris was almost rhythmic, his attention solely on the lives at stake. There was yelling and then a loud crash as a beam came down from the smoke headed right for a woman before a flash of red and blue whizzed in and stopped it.

Right before your favorite moment happens there's a banner covering a sliver of the screen.

Peter: Did I piss you off? Peter: I was just trying to have some fun, I’m sorry. you: no ? you didn’t do anything, i just don’t want to meet today Peter: Oh, okay! Peter: But Peter: What about my invite to the frat party? ;) you: not my scene, also stop sending more than one text weirdo Peter: Awe man, tonight's our Halloween bash, there’s gonna be plenty of booze… you: don’t drink, i’ll only go if i get to meet spiderman. so good luck with that peter

You put your phone in to not disturb and continued down the long list of favorite videos of the superhero, all the different angles of all his different fights.

There was a weird thing about it, something perhaps in your animalistic side that liked the idea of a protector, even if he themed himself off such a grotesque creature. You were grateful he doesn’t have multiple eyes and limbs and the only suggestion that he was relatively a spider was the webbing on his suit and the silk he shot from his wrists.

You wondered if they were natural to his body, to his mutations, or if he had a beautiful and intricate device that shot them out.

Peter however was staring at the messages you had exchanged, how your notifications were turned off so quickly after he started messaging you. It was bothering him so badly, he wanted to talk to you more. Wanted to laugh at the fact you said you would only come if you got to meet Spider-Man, unaware that you already have. That you somehow weasled into his frontal lobe in the summer and he hasn’t been able to push you out since.

Pure trouble, that’s what you were for him.

#fanfic #peter parker x reader #frat!peter #x reader #spiderman #fanfic writing #peter parker is so a nerd #tasm peter parker #peter parker

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mischievouslittlecreature · 8 months ago

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Part 12: Bloodied & Broken

Summary: Tommy continues to wait with bated breathe to see if Lucy will actually wake up.

Word Count: 3,170

Warnings: Gunshot wounds.

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Chapter 3: Trinkets

Tommy watched Esme move about the hospital room warily, bag slung over one shoulder and skirts swishing around her ankles. Adjusting the papers she’d handed him the moment she walked in, he crossed one leg over the other, balancing them against his knee.

Esme touched a fingertip to a leaf from the bouquet Ada had dropped by, now settled in a vase on Lucy’s bedside table. She picked up the stuffed bear where it was propped up against the vase, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Cute.”

“It’s from Ada,” he said, before she could get any ideas. Esme’s eyes sparkled a little with amusement as she set the bear back down.

“I brought some things,” she reached into her bag, and pulled out a black madonna. “I know neither you or her really believe,” she looped the twine that held the pendant around the vase. “But I do.”

Tommy hummed, watching her movements analytically. He was more on his guard this time. Not allowing himself to make the mistake of relaxing like he had with Ada.

“And I brought some other things too. That might help. For luck and healing,” she started to dig deeper into her bag, carefully setting down little trinkets onto the table. Tommy fiddled with the edges of the papers while he watched her. It was a nice thought. And couldn’t hurt.

It had been a couple days since Lucy had come out of surgery, and she still hadn’t woken up yet. They could use all the luck they could get.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he looked down at his lap. “Thank you, Esme.”

She shot him a sage look. “My brains would likely be splattered across the betting shop wall if it weren’t for her,” she set the last little trinket down with a clink. “I owe her a debt.”

“Still. I know she’d appreciate it.”

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she nodded slowly. Her eyes flitted around the room, pausing on the cot set up beside Lucy’s bed. Where he’d been sleeping for the past couple of nights.

Well, ‘sleeping’ was perhaps a generous term. He only dozed for fleeting moments at a time, constantly jerking awake at the slightest sounds coming from the hallway outside the room, or to check to make sure Lucy was okay. The nurses, after realizing that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, had briefed him on the signs to keep an eye out for regarding infection or brain bleeding. That way he could call for them if he noticed anything.

Eager to change the subject, he coughed into his fist, pulling a pen from his pocket to make marks and scribble his signature on the papers she’d brought. “How are things at the shop?”

“Fine. John and Arthur fixed the door. Put these big, fancy new locks on it. No one should be able to bust in like that again.”

“Good.”

He could feel Esme’s eyes boring into the side of his head while he finished marking up the papers she’d handed him.

“Polly wants to know if you have any idea when you will be back yet.”

His teeth grinded together at the mention of his aunt.

“I don’t think she’s trying to be presumptuous. She genuinely is just wondering. Some of the men get a little weird, you know. When they have to take orders from a woman.”

“I’m sure Polly can handle them.”

“Of course she can. She just wants to know for how long.”

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, scribbling the last signature and gathering the papers back up into a neat pile to hand to her. “I don’t know yet.”

Esme tucked the papers back into her bag, then looked at him, head angled a little to the side. Then she looked back over at Lucy. Taking a step forward, she gently rested her fingertips on Lucy’s forehead, murmuring something in Romani, too quietly under her breath for Tommy to hear. After a moment, she stepped back.

“It’s nice for you to stay with her like this.”

Tommy shrugged awkwardly. “I promised I wouldn’t leave her,” he blinked, a little surprised at the admittance. Esme hummed.

“The others don’t always see things so clearly. I think Ada is starting to piece things together a little more, but she’s so busy with Freddie and Karl she’s not here enough to really see…”

Tommy shot her a sharp look. “See what?”

Esme did not balk at the challenge in his voice. Reaching out, she took his hand, opening his palm, and tracing her fingertips along the line of the scar covering it.

“I noticed that yours and hers matched the first day we met,” she said softly, dropping his hand and lifting her own, fingers splayed so he could plainly see the scar on her own palm. “Just like me and John’s do.”

“Esme…” he warned, but she still didn’t back down.

“Don’t treat me as an idiot, Thomas. I know what a blood bond means.”

He closed his mouth, jaw working as he processed Esme’s words. “Have you told anyone?”

She snorted. “Of course not. But they’re not blind, Thomas. There’s no way Polly hasn’t noticed the matching scars on both of your palms.”

“I know.”

“John thinks you’re just fucking her. Arthur is oblivious. Ada is finally starting to put things together. Polly…Polly is still in denial a little, I think.”

“Denial?”

At his sharp gaze, her eyes just sparkled with mirth and sage wisdom. “She’s still clinging to a scrap of hope that Lucy doesn’t really mean all that much to you.”

“Is it really that terrible that I’ve actually managed to find someone who makes me happy?”

“For her? Yes, I think it would be. It threatens her position in the family. It means that there’s another woman in your life that you listen to even more than her.”

“Fucking hell…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think that Lucy saving our asses might’ve softened Polly just a tiny fraction in regards to her.”

Tommy shot her an unconvinced look. Esme cocked her head, dark, wise eyes assessing him uncannily.

“You’re angry with her.”

“What was your first hint?” he asked sarcastically, leaning back in his chair with a huff. He looked back at Lucy, still sleeping. There was little more color to her cheeks, and her breaths seemed stronger. Not as shallow. “She could have at least sent some fucking flowers or something.”

“I don’t think it’s malicious. She’s just too proud for her own good, sometimes. All you Shelbys are. I see it in John too, on occasion. Maybe she just figures that the best thing she can do for you both is focus on running things so you don’t have to worry about anything regarding the business and can just focus on Lucy…”

Tommy shook his head. “I know how Polly feels about Lucy, Esme. Just like I know that once Polly’s made up her mind about someone, you’d sooner be more likely to convince a mountain to move than to get her to change her mind. She’d sooner knowingly drink poison than purposefully do something nice for her.”

“I think you’re being a little pessimistic.”

“I suppose we’ll see, eh?”

Esme shrugged. “I ought to be getting back. John took the kids out to the fair, but they’ll be home for supper soon.”

“Right,” he rubbed his hands together, fingertips unconsciously tracing the bump of the scar on his palm, where the blade had sunk into his flesh and cut deep, before he and Lucy entwined their fingers together, wounds pressed tight to each other, blood pouring and running through one another’s veins.

An unbreakable, sacred bond. Forever keeping them entangled.

God, what was he going to do if she never woke up?

“Thank you for coming by,” he said, hoping that she didn’t notice the way his voice ever so slightly broke.

“Course,” Esme’s shoes clicked as she made her way towards the door.

“Esme?” he called before she could pull it open. She turned back to him. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“No.”

He nodded, looking back to Lucy, still unmoving. Still sleeping.

“We haven’t always seen eye to eye, you and me,” Esme said after a moment of watching him from the door. “I doubt that will change. But I’ve watched you with her,” she jerked her head towards Lucy. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve always been good to her. She’s lucky to have you watching over her.”

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, half tempted to remind her that if it weren’t for him, Lucy probably wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed in the first place. But instead he said nothing, eyes remaining focused on his little red head where she laid, listening to the sounds of Esme’s shoes clicking as she stepped out the door, and made her way down the hall.

∗ ∗ ∗

Her first coherent thought, when she woke up, was that it felt like she’d been hit by a bus.

It was like her head had been stuffed full of cotton, swimming and spinning a little.

Sometimes, she thought that she heard voices. An angry woman, half shouting. A soothing Welsh lilt. But mostly, she just heard Tommy. Deep and gentle. Twinged with slight pleading. She struggled to hold onto it, to let the sound of him draw her back to wakefulness. But everytime, before she could fully make it there, she was dragged back down into sleep.

But today she was able to hold on long enough to make it to full consciousness. Though it was not Tommy’s voice that helped to draw her back, but the steady, encompassing warmth around her right hand. She grabbed onto the sensation of it; how it soaked into her skin and heated her chilled fingers and the gentle, tender pet of a thumb swiping across her knuckles.

Soon, she was able to sense enough to know that she was lying on her back, the smell of disinfectant and medicine lodged in her nose and blankets pulled up to her chest.

Slowly, more and more of her mind started to rise from hibernation.

And then, she felt the pain.

It started at the back of her head, and ached throughout her entire body in a steady, distinct throbbing. There was a dullness to it, and her head still felt clouded and sluggish, likely not just a side-effect of sleep. She must be on some sort of drugs. Something bulky and a little scratchy was plastered to the back of her head. A bandage, maybe?

Furrowing her brows in an attempt to recall what had happened hurt. And while she was awake, she had not yet opened her eyes. It felt as though her eyelids were weighed down with bricks.

She remembered…she remembered…the betting shop floor. Blood. Pain. Fear. Convinced that she was going to die. Begging them not to leave her. And being left alone anyway. The ear-ringing crack of a gun going off.

Oh, right. Gunshot wound to the head. She remembered now.

Something flexed around her hand, and it took her a moment to realize that something–someone–was firmly stroking their thumb along the scar on her palm. The one left from the blood bond she’d created with Tommy.

With an Herculean effort, she peeled her eyes open, and almost immediately slammed them closed again, the bright lights from both the ceiling and the window irritating her eyes and causing pinpricks of pain to shoot through her already aching head. A little whine left her lips.

The figure, who must have been sitting beside her based on the way they were clutching her hand, went stiff, shooting forward with their fingers tightening around hers.

“Lucy?”

Tommy. Of course it was Tommy. She doubted that there was anyone else who would care enough to have sat at her bedside for who even knows how long, waiting to see if she ever woke up.

Don’t leave me.

Never.

She half wanted to cry at the memory of him holding her on the betting shop floor, keeping pressure on her wound and murmuring reassuring promises that she was going to be okay; that he wouldn’t leave her alone.

There had been endless agony in his eyes when the doctors and nurses practically had to wrench him away from her in the waiting room. By that point, she’d been fading in and out of consciousness consistently, verging more on passed out than actually awake, but she’d still seen the look of sheer helpless pain on his face when they started to wheel her away from him and into a surgical suite.

Fighting down the exhaustion and agony trying to coax her back to sleep, she forced her eyes open again.

She was greeted with Tommy’s face hovering over hers. His eyes–bloodshot and wide–bore her. There were very dark, swollen circles under them, and his hair was ruffled and sticking up in a few places, as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. A light shadow of stubble was beginning to sprout up along his jaw. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled in several places.

When she tried to angle herself towards him a little, it was to find that she was impeded by a brace keeping her from turning her head.

So instead she settled for raising her hand to cup his cheek, brows creasing as she took in just how haggard and exhausted he looked. How long had she been out? How long had he just been sitting here, waiting with little more than a sliver of hope that she would find her way back to him?

His lips parted with a choked off sound as he took in her staring back at him, and at the press of her hand against his cheek, she saw his throat convulse as he swallowed, actually looking to be close to tears.

“Tommy, are you alright?” her voice was but a weak whisper. Definitely hadn’t been used for at least a couple of days, then.

Tommy let out a quiet sound that was half laugh, half sob, at her question. His face turned against her palm to kiss her hands, big fingers curling around hers as he kissed her fingers, the back of her hands, and her palms over and over again.

“I’m supposed to be the one asking you that, love,” he murmured, giving her hands a few more pecks.

“Mm,” she just hummed, eyes closing for a moment, not opening again until she felt him brushing a few tendrils of hair off her forehead.

“Lucy?”

“‘M still here,” she mumbled, opening her eyes again to find him looking her over concernedly.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“Hm…” she considered. “Head hurts a little, but I’m guessing that’s to be expected. Mostly just tired. And achy.”

“I can get the doctor–”

“No,” she squeezed his hand. “Not yet. Just stay a minute.”

He didn’t argue with her, settling back down where he’d half risen from his seat. He was staring at her like he was afraid she might disappear.

“How long was I out for?”

“Only a few days,” his finger trailed up and down her arm, not entirely making eye contact with her as he uttered the next bit. “We weren’t entirely sure if you would ever wake up.”

It hurt to let out the little snort she emitted from her nose, but it was worth it to see him relax a little at the sound of her amusement. “It’s gonna have to take worse than a bullet to the head to get rid of me.”

Tommy shot her a small, fond smile, reaching out to brush the back of his hand down her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re awake. I missed you.”

“You said I was only asleep for a couple days.”

He just shook his head. “Too long.”

She smiled to herself, and tugged the hand still holding hers to her lips, so she could press a kiss to it. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“I made you a promise,” he shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “And, besides, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on much of anything else if I knew you were laying here all alone.”

Sweetheart, she thought to him affectionately, smile growing as he dropped his head a little bashfully.

But the thought of work made it quickly fade, replaced instead by silent dread. She felt…fine, all things considered. Outside of just some general cloudiness and sluggishness in her thoughts, she wasn’t having any trouble thinking, or remembering things, now that she was more awake. And she could talk. She seemed able to move alright, general weakness aside, and the experimental little wiggle she did of her toes proved to be a success.

But just because she didn’t currently feel any specific adverse effects from her injury, didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be any. She’d been shot in the fucking head. She’d touched her own brain with her fingertips. People didn’t just walk away from that, did they?

She closed her eyes again, bracing herself. “Tell me how bad it is. Really.”

“Not so bad. Recovery will probably be long. But they don’t expect you to have any long term complications. The bullet impacted your skull, but only the outermost layer of your brain. They didn’t see any significant damage to it,” he cleared his throat. “The doctor can give you more specific details on all of this.”

“Mm,” she hummed, absorbing the information. She was lucky, then. Incredibly so.

But a long recovery meant she would be out of commission for a while. And if she wasn’t able to do her job for a significant while…

She bit her lip, and tried to push the thought away, Tommy’s hand cupping her cheek distracting her a little.

“You’re really feeling alright?” he asked, big blue eyes wide with concern.

“Mhm, I’m sure. Just tired,” she shifted slightly in the bed. “The brace is a little uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to wear it for very long.”

“Oh, good.”

Tommy stroked her hair back, leaning forward from his seat to press a gentle, slow kiss to her lips. Lucy’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, his mouth warm and soft as a pillow against hers. He retreated enough to also kiss her forehead before settling back into his chair.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry that I made you worry.”

“Don’t–don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze. He kissed her again, then stood.

“I’ll go tell the doctor you’re awake, now.”

“Okay,” she watched him go to the door, teeth worrying a little at her lower lip as she resigned herself to what was likely to be a long and painful recovery.

Meanwhile a thought, one she knew to be irrational and silly, scratched insistently on the insides of her mind.

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #my fanfiction #love me where i'm most ruined #lily writes

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lunafoster · 8 months ago

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Oh No (part 3)

AN: Guess who’s back! Yeah, it’s me heh. Guys I’m so sorry for abandoning you for a year, everything has been a bit hectic with my family and my studies and stuff, still is, but I’m trying to manage my time better (key word: trying). Anyway, I leave you with another part of Oh No because I was somehow able to watch ESC again this year and my brain rot came back, gifting me with a smudge of inspiration that I had to wring out as much as I could.

Warnings: none I think? Bad English (I’m sorry, I promise I’m trying), implied thoughts (iykwim), I don’t know if there are any curse words here but I warn y’all just in case.

Pairings: Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!actress!reader + a tiny bit of Bojan x Käärijä + a tiny bit of Käärijä x fem!actress!reader

Words: 1700+

Part 1, Part 2

Without further a due, here is part 3! Hope you enjoy!

As soon as Jere woke up, his first thought was about having lunch with Bojan and the Slovene’s girlfriend. His stomach did somersaults at the idea.

He cursed to himself when he took a look at his phone, seeing that it was later than he would’ve wanted.

He got ready as quickly as he could, taking a little more time choosing his outfit, since he wanted to look presentable and, when he was done, took everything he would need to go out and exited his room.

He knocked twice on Bojan’s room door and waited patiently (not) for someone to open the door.

“Just a second!” He heard a feminine voice from inside, sounding breathless.

The girl opened the door with a smile on her face and Jere couldn’t help but notice the light freckles across her nose bridge and cheeks. Since when did she have those? He hadn’t noticed the night before.

“Sorry, we slept in,” she said sheepishly.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled back.

When he looked towards the rest of the room, he could make out Bojan putting a shirt on and closing the closet door, smiling at Jere when he noticed him.

“Good morning!” The Slovene exclaimed cheerfully while the girl went towards the bathroom.

“Just gonna put on some makeup to fix my zombie face,” she excused herself.

“No need fix,” Jere murmured under his breath at the same time Bojan grumbled something along the lines of “what zombie face? You look like a princess in the mornings”.

She giggled cutely and singsonged a “thank you boys”, making the two men flush and widen their eyes at each other.

Bojan and Jere looked at different restaurants in the Slovene’s phone to decide where they would go beforehand while the girl finished up in the bathroom.

Exiting the hotel lobby with both Bojan and his girlfriend made him feel floaty and he couldn’t keep the dopey smile out of his face, small chuckles leaving his throat at any stupid comment one of them would make.

She couldn’t help but smile as soon as she woke up, the warmth enveloping her being way too familiar for her not to know who it was embracing her from behind.

The girl stretched and snorted when Bojan grumbled something incoherent, a bad headache probably on the way to full development after the night before.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispered against his temple before kissing the warm skin there.

The grumbles grew louder in volume and she chuckled, amused, getting up and heading for the bathroom.

Finishing her morning routine was easy, as she had been doing it automatically for years. However, the fact that there was a dull ache at the back of her head made her choose to be safe and not sorry, taking out a couple of pills and swallowing one herself.

The girl took the room card and, when she was out in the corridor (pyjama-clad and all), she fist bumped when she saw what she caught a glimpse of the day before: a water fountain -with paper cups and all!

She took one of the cups and filled it with fresh water, making her way into the room again and leaving the glass and the pill on the bedside table for Bojan.

Then she checked the time.

“Shit!” She turned towards the bed and climbed on it, gently shaking her boyfriend awake. “Come on, my love.”

“Nooooo,” he whined, “five more minutes.”

“We’re gonna be late for lunch with Jere,” she explained, making him sit up instantly.

“Ugh, my head hurts,” Bojan complained, running a hand down his face and messing up his already messy bed hair.

“Swallow this, it’ll help.”

“You’re an angel sent from Heaven, dear.” He kissed her cheek and took the pill with a big gulp of water.

She chuckled while searching for something cute to wear, deciding on a floral dress, to match the spring weather (although cold, so a jacket would have to do).

There were knocks on the door and she laughed at Bojan trying to put on clothes quickly while getting detangled from the bedsheets.

They finally found a restaurant they all wanted to try and they were lucky enough to be told that it wasn’t full.

“What are you gonna order?” The girl asked her boyfriend, a small pout on her lips when she couldn’t choose just one dish from the menu.

“Probably the chops,” Bojan answered.

“Of course, you Balkan dad.” Her chuckles made Jere smile with a confused tilt of his head.

“What is Balkan dad?”

Both the girl and the Slovene crossed glances and started full on laughing, a couple of heads turning in their direction.

“It’s a stereotype,” she started, but continued explaining when he just stared at her, “apparently, all dads in the Balkan countries behave the same way; and that includes loving barbecued meat!”

“Ah,” he let out eloquently.

The conversation kept flowing after they ordered their food, the sound of their amused laughter filling the small restaurant with lively energy.

“I do! I love Rammstein!” She tried to convince the other two after Käärijä mentioned his favourite band.

“There’s no way, I’ve never heard you listening to them, ever,” Bojan countered

“That’s cause I always wear headphones, duh!”

Jere was wheezing when they kept going back and forth, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling that day.

He chanced a look at Bojan when he couldn’t hear them arguing anymore and caught him staring with a soft smile.

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask. The smile on the other man’s face grew wider and he flushed a little.

“Nothing.”

“For real though.” The girl seemed to not have seen any of it. “A lot of people on TikTok edited me to Sonne when the last episode of The Enemy came out.”

“I get it,” Bojan agreed, suddenly, “The Enemy was way too good and the vibes of that song kinda fit.”

When Jere didn’t answer them, the Slovene turned to him with bright eyes and started explaining the plot of a show his girlfriend starred in.

“Stoooop, stop it, Bojan.” She pushed his arm as if to get his attention. “That’s enough, you don’t have to tell him everything.”

Her face was so red, and the rapper stared at the way her eyes seemed shinier.

“She looks beautiful when she blushes, right?” The Slovene teased when he saw the face Jere was making.

“No! Yes, yes,” he stuttered, blood running towards his face, “very pretty.”

She blushed harder at the comment, her eyes looking anywhere but at the two men.

“Okay, that’s enough, the both of you,” she stammered out, a small smile on her lips making it obvious that she wasn’t mad.

“Sorry, love, can’t help it,” Bojan said with a childish grin.

The conversation went towards the rehearsals and the schedules the Slovene and Fin had the next day, trying to make plans to hang out but finding they couldn’t due to everything being overlapped.

“Excuse me, I apologise but we really need a table and, since you have finished already, would you mind continuing your conversation by the bar or somewhere else, please?” A waitress asked them politely with a sorry smile on her face.

“Sure, sorry miss, we’ll be leaving now!” She announced with a flourish.

They kept discussing the next days’ schedules and ended up with a dinner plan and the idea that the girl could take turns to see the both of them during the day, as she insisted on watching them both practice.

“So, Jere, up to join us for a Netflix and chill session?”

“Bojan!” The girl stared at her boyfriend, bewildered, frantically looking around the lobby of their hotel to see if anyone else had heard.

The expression on the Fin’s face must have told the other man that he actually knew what that meant and a smirk started stretching Bojan’s lips.

“Just kidding,” the Slovene singer relented after a good laugh.

“We could watch something on Netflix, though, if you want, Jere.” The girl smiled at him, a pink hue decorating her cheeks.

Käärijä chanced another look at Bojan’s little smirk and looked away immediately after they crossed glances, slowly nodding at the girl and following the couple towards their hotel room.

He was sure Bojan knew that something was up with him, and he worried a bit (a lot) about making the other man uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to lose their friendship just because he developed a small (?) crush on him and his girlfriend. However, he told himself it didn’t seem like Bojan was mad at him; in fact, it looked exactly the opposite, as if the other singer wanted to get a reaction out of him.

He didn’t want to speculate or overthink too much, though, so he let it be for the moment.

When the subject of his thoughts opened the door with his key card, he immediately regretted his decision. There was no way the three of them would fit in that bed.

“Do you guys want snacks? We can order room service- or… didn’t we have a bunch of chocolate stuff around here somewhere, babe?” The girl started walking around and searching for something in the small fridge.

“What do you wanna watch?” Bojan asked him with a small smile directed towards his cute (what? Stop it!) girlfriend.

“You want, is fine,” he answered, trying hard to control where his eyes went.

When the girl stood back up with a quiet ‘aha!’, Bojan had already decided what to watch, setting up the laptop.

“Guys,” she started, biting her lip, “shouldn’t we at least change from our outside clothes? We sleep there, Bojan.”

“That’s very true.” He raised a hand towards his face and pushed away his hair, leaving it tousled (cute- no!). “Do you want some of my clothes, Jere? So that you don’t have to go all the way to your room.”

“Okay,” he said, ears flushing at the thought.

The girl went inside the bathroom with a set of clothes and Bojan handed him a pair of sweats and a black shirt with a smile, turning around and starting to take off his own clothes.

“Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look!” He told himself, widening his eyes and quickly turning around, changing as fast as he possibly could.

AN2: hope you enjoyed it! If you want any more parts, give it some love!

#esc 2023 #esc x reader #bojan cvjeticanin #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjetićanin x fem!reader #bojan cvjetićanin x reader #käärija #käärijä x bojan #käärijä x reader #fem!reader #fem!actress!reader #eurovison 2023 #eurovision #joker out

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agaypanic · 2 years ago

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hi! first off can i say your writing is TO DIE FOR! it's simply amazing and you're literally THE BEST FOR WRITING FOR CHARACTERS NO ONE ELSE RLLY WRITES FOR!

n e ways..

could you do a cute lil imagine about michael kelso and his girlfriend wanting to take a bubble bath with him? like with candles, scented bubbles and everything! and maybe it gets a tad bit smutty at the end (bc let's be fr it's kelso)

i appreciate it sm!! <33

Bubbles (Michael Kelso X Reader)

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Summary: You want to take a bath with your boyfriend. He thinks the bubbles and candles are a little girly for him, but he can’t say no to you.

A/N: omg tysm <3333 also slightly smutty towards the end bc it’s Kelso

***

You loved nights like this. Nights when there was no school the next morning, nights when your parents wouldn’t be home for hours because they were out for one of their weekly dates, nights when the gang was busy doing their own things. You were able to completely unwind and relax.

You had a bit of a ritual. You started in the living room, watching television while painting your nails. Whether it was Charlie’s Angels, Scooby-Doo and his gang, or the Fonz, you just wanted some background noise. You decided to paint them blue because that was your boyfriend’s favorite color on you.

When the paint had dried, you went to your room to grab your pajamas. After painting your nails, you always took a bubble bath with scented candles around the tub and music playing from your little portable radio. You were about to walk off to your bathroom when the phone on your bedside table rang.

“Hello?” You answered, phone pinned between your ear and shoulder.

“Hey, baby!” Michael responded excitedly on the other end.

“Hey, Micah! What’s up?”

“I thought I could come over. I know your parents are out.” You were quick to pick up the suggestive tone in his voice.

“Michael, I’m not really in the mood for that.” You sat on your bed, toying with the covers.

“Well, can I at least come over?” Michael asked. “I just miss you.” God, how could you say no to him when he sounded so sweet and desperate to see you? You smiled, looping the curled phone cord around your finger.

“Okay then. I’m about to start a bath, so I’ll leave the back door unlocked for you. So when you come in, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Y/n, how can you say you’re not in the mood for sex and then tell me you’re gonna be naked when I get there?” He asked with a joking tone.

“Shut up!” You laughed, and Michael let out a chuckle in return. “Okay, I’m gonna go. See you soon. Love you.”

“Love ya, too.” You both hung up the phone.

You ran to the back door and unlocked it before making your way to your bathroom. Music echoed as the water ran. You put some bubble bath soap in the filling tub before lighting two of your favorite candles and placing them on the edges of the tub. When the tub was filled to your liking, you turned off the faucet and undressed. You threw your clothes into the hamper before stepping into the warm, bubbly water. You sighed loudly in relief as you sank and rested your head against the wall.

You didn’t keep track of how many songs had played before you heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?” Michael asked through the door. You smiled at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah, come on in.” He did as told, shutting the door behind him. You rested an arm on the edge of the tub, hand reaching out for him to take. Michael smiled and sat down against the bathtub, taking your hand.

“Hey, baby.” He kissed your knuckles.

“Hi, Micah.” You squeezed his hand, leaning forward to give him a kiss that he eagerly returned. You bent your knees to rest your chin on them, smiling softly at Michael.

“Having fun?” Michael asked. You gave a hum of confirmation and then suddenly had an idea.

“Wanna get in with me?” He looked at his surroundings, giving out a light laugh.

“I dunno, Y/n. Bubble bath, candles. Seems a little girly for me.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, okay. So I can put makeup on you, but you won’t sit in the bath with me?”

“David Bowie wears makeup!”

“I bet he takes bubble baths too!” The two of you laughed at your unserious outbursts. You kissed Michael. “Pretty please.” You begged against his lips before pecking them again. He sighed, untangling his hand from yours.

“Fine. But no telling the guys.” Michael stood up and shed his layers. You clapped your hands with glee, scooting forward in the tub. You had him put his clothes in the laundry basket because he had left so many pieces of clothing at your house for him to wear afterward, and he stepped into the bath. He settled in the place you were in before he came, resting against the wall before pulling you towards him to rest on him. Because Michael’s so tall, he had his legs bent, knees popping out of the water.

“See, isn’t this nice?” You asked. You felt him kiss the back of your head.

“Mhmm.” He hummed into your hair, sighing at the sensation of you dragging your nails up and down his thighs. He grabbed one of your hands, holding it close for inspection. “I like the blue.”

“Did it for you, baby.” You maneuvered your hand in his hold to interlock your fingers again.

The two of you lay in the bubbles, making light conversation with music playing in the background. You were encased by Michael’s limbs, legs on either side of your body, and arms around your torso, keeping you close to his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder while he listened to you talk about something that had happened in class the other day.

Michael moved one of his hands to scratch his face, and when he went to hold you again, he brushed your nipple. You gasped at the sudden sensation.

“Sorry.” He mumbled into your shoulder, waiting for you to continue with your story. But your mind was now filled with other things. It was crazy, the effect Michael Kelso could have on you. One simple, accidental touch had sent your mind into a frenzy. “Babe?”

You turned your head to look at him, eyes hazy with lust. His eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for you to say something. But he knew that look in your eye; he knew what you wanted.

Keeping an arm around you, his other hand gave one of your thighs the treatment that you’d been giving him. You sighed in relief at the contact. His hand started to travel to where you needed him most, pausing right at the apex of your thigh.

“Please, Micah.” You whined. He clicked his tongue, lips against your ear.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He whispered. “I’ll take good care of you. I always do, don’t I?”

#michael kelso x reader #michael kelso #that 70s show #that 70s show x reader #agaypanic

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whats-k-popping · 2 years ago

Text

Summary: When he opens their bedroom door, he's hit by a pungent rotten acidic smell. It flips his own stomach and makes him put his knuckles over his lips. The smell is reminiscent of vomit, and his stomach instantly desires similar release. His disdain for his boyfriend vanishes immediately. He buries his own ill misery, replacing it with worry for his younger partner.

Pairing: Woosan (NonIdol AU) - established relationship

Words: 3511

Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Vom!ting || Fever || Fake Illness

Wooyoung has been planning this for weeks. A lot of time and research and actual money has gone into pulling off probably the greatest prank of their couples vlogging career. This specific prank seems to be trending right now, as he's seeing all the other couples they follow posting similar videos- "pranking my boyfriend by pretending to sick" and "will my boyfriend take care of me when I'm sick?" He binge watched all of them and found the content to be very cute. Even the gentle scoldings after the prank is revealed.

And in typical Wooyoung fashion, he wants to show off how abundantly caring his boyfriend is to the whole world. Or to their 307k subscribers anyway. After all, it was his idea to start the channel. And he puts the most effort into making the videos, editing the footage and adding effects. So with San away on a business trip, he sets the plan into motion.

He researches the best way to fake symptoms, leading him to the purchase of a thermometer that always reads a fever and a grotesque recipe for fake vomit. He hoards dryer lint, knowing it makes him sniffly and sings loudly in their empty apartment, intending to make his voice hoarse.

San hasn't told him what time his flight leaves, only that he'll "be back Friday morning." Wooyoung pouted and complained at that answer, but San stood his ground. He probably wants it to be a surprise. Well, two can play at that game. He sets everything up the night before San's anticipated return. He doesn't want to risk anything spoiling his prank. Pranking is his speciality.

He's got a box of tissues, medicine packets, bottled water, and the prank thermometer sitting on his bedside table. Hiding under the bed are a mist bottle of warm water and the jar of fake vomit. He's even set a bucket next to the bed and poured some of the fake vomit into it to really sell that he's been sick for a while. It smells terrible. It's perfect.

And of course, he camouflages the camera in the far corner of their room, angling the lense toward their shared bed to capture the exact moment San walks in and finds him ill.

He's already filmed his whole preparation process, ensuring to keep his viewers in on the prank. He's even started editing that footage already. All that's left is to really play the part. He puts on his fluffiest pajamas (keeping his baggie of dryer lint in the chest pocket for easy access) and settles into bed, ready for his plan to unfold.

He sleeps peacefully through the night, but startles awake at the sound of San's obnoxiously loud keychain jostling on his hip. Usually, he hates the thing. But for today's purposes, he's thankful that San chooses to sound like a human tambourine everywhere he goes. When he hears the door to their apartment unlatch, he quickly pulls the mist bottle out from under the bed. He sprays some around his sheets and some on his face before throwing it back under the bed. He starts rolling the camera, then quickly lays back down, ready for San to find him.

San sighs heavily as he lets himself into the apartment. He rips off his coat, feeling uncomfortably warm in his only layer aside from a loose-fitting t-shirt. He kicks off his shoes and abandons his luggage by the door, not even caring to unpack. He just wants to crawl into bed, ideally snuggled up beside his boyfriend.

He'd started feeling unwell the second day of the trip. He originally blamed it on the foreign food, but the more his symptoms progress, he thinks that maybe his seatmate on his departure flight wasn't just pale due to air sickness like he'd originally assumed.

It was a hellish trip, but he was able to maintain productivity in order to return Friday, like he had promised. And was rewarded with a few days off. He'd originally planned to spend those days spoiling Wooyoung. Now he thinks he'll use them to recover from whatever illness his immune system failed to prevent.

But no use dwelling on it further. He's finally home. Instead he shuffles his way to the bedroom, barely having the energy to lift his feet. He notices that the apartment is mostly unkempt. Dishes unwashed, belongings out of place, trash peeking out over the rim of the receptacle. He scoffs at the sight, mentally cursing the man he calls his boyfriend. He knows the younger isn't much for housework, but he wonders what's been keeping him so busy he couldn't load the dishwasher. Hopefully, once Wooyoung sees how sick he is, he'll clean it up. Otherwise, it will be left in disarray until he feels better.

When he opens their bedroom door, he's hit by a pungent rotten acidic smell. It flips his own stomach and makes him put his knuckles over his lips. The smell is reminiscent of vomit, and his stomach instantly desires similar release. His disdain for his boyfriend vanishes immediately. He buries his own ill misery, replacing it with worry for his younger partner.

San swallows thickly, taking large strides to Wooyoung curled up so small under the covers. He takes in the scene of obvious illness that's settled around the room, side-eying the sick bucket on the floor as the source of the unpleasant smell.

He gently brushes Wooyoung's bangs away to feel his forehead. He's not noticeably warm, but sweat coats his face and their bedsheets. Relief washes over him, thinking he must have already sweat the fever out.

Despite San's touch being feather-light, Wooyoung starts to stir and open his eyes, slowly of course to remain in-character. "Baby, you're home." Wooyoung's voice is perfectly hoarse, all according to plan. Still, he tacks on a chesty cough for effect.

"I just got back," San strokes along the younger's hairline. "Is my Wooyoungie not feeling very well?"

Wooyoung just shakes his head with a pout, adding a few shivers. San responds by pulling the blanket up to his chin. "How was your trip?" The younger asks.

San smiles at his sick dongsaeng, ruffling his hair. "Business as usual" is his simple reply. Leaving out all the bits of his own experiences with illness. "I'll tell you all about it when you're feeling better."

"Kay," Wooyoung yawns, nuzzling himself closer to San.

The smell of the bucket beside the bed demands his attention. The effect the putrid odor has on him is becoming too hard to ignore. His stomach gurgles and bubbles in anger the longer he's crouched beside it. "Baby, I'm going to wash this out okay? Do you think you'll need it anytime soon?" When Wooyoung shakes his head, San grabs the bucket holding it far away from his face and rushes to the bathroom.

He pours the contents into the toilet bowl and flushes all in one quick motion. While he's filling the bucket with water, he uses the sound of the running tap to mask his own gagging. He spits up a mouthful of sick he easily recognizes as the in-flight meal he begrudgingly stomached a few hours ago into the toilet and grimaces. Airline food hardly looks good the first time, but the second time is menacing.

But he doesn't have time to wallow in his own disgust. Not when Wooyoung needs him. He takes a few deep breaths and shakes out the fog from his head. Taking a long look in the mirror, he tries to convince himself it's jetlag. He hopes he could convince Wooyoung, too, should the younger notice his pallor. He flushes his own sick and brings the rinsed bucket back to the bedroom.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung is exacerbating his own symptoms with a smug smile of success. In San's absence, he not only refreshes the misting he'd applied earlier, but also takes a long whiff of the dryer lint in his pocket. The reaction was almost immediate. He's a watery-eyed, sniffling mess when San returns with the bucket.

San sets the bucket aside and sits on the edge of the bed. He plucks a tissue from the conveniently placed box and starts dabbing the younger's waterline. "What hurts, jagiya?"

"Everything," Wooyoung whimpers in such a pitiful way, he thinks he deserves an Oscar for his performance.

"I'm sorry you weren't feeling well and I wasn't here," he wants to lean over and comfort Wooyoung with a soft kiss, but he doesn't want to further compromise the younger's immune system by introducing new germs. Or vice versa. He settles for scalp scratches, which Wooyoung leans into. "You just rest, hyung will take good care of you now."

"Thank you, Sannie." Wooyoung coos as he starts to drift off.

San eyes the thermometer on the side table and it seemingly reminds him. "Don't fall asleep just yet, let me take your temperature first." He pleads, and Wooyoung opens his mouth obediently.

When the thermometer reads 39.2 degrees, San's eyes widen like saucers. Wooyoung hadn't felt that warm. But he resolves that maybe he's sporting a fever and it's making Wooyoung feel cooler to touch. "You’re burning. I'm going to get you a cool cloth," he rushes off with the thermometer in hand.

In the bathroom again he rinses the thermometer and sticks it under his own tongue. When it beeps, he reads 39.0 degrees. Wooyoung still has a higher fever. So he needs more attention. He returns with a bowl of ice water and a washcloth. He takes good care to ring it out and places it carefully on Wooyoung's head.

"Rest up, now. I'll fix you something to eat, then you can take medicine and have a shower. The bedsheets need to be changed anyway." San dictates a pretty organized plan, though he has low hopes of the success rate.

"Choi San, my guardian angel," Wooyoung slurs with a thick sniffle. "I love you," he puckers his lips expectantly.

"I love you too." San resists the urge again to kiss his sickly boyfriend. Instead he pats Wooyoung's thigh and exits the bedroom. Their living room futon has never looked more inviting. He throws himself onto it, completely spent.

He wants to be the doting boyfriend Wooyoung deserves him to be. But his own illness is catching up to him disapointingly quickly. With Wooyoung napping, he's bought himself time to rest. He thinks about cooking something, but the thought of being around food enrages his stomach. And his head feels trapped in a thick fog. He can't guarantee his own safety in the kitchen.

So he opens the delivery app on his phone and orders some comfort foods to be dropped off at the door. As soon as he sees the confirmation screen, his eyes slip closed entering into a restless sleep.

Alone in the bedroom, Wooyoung is feeling a little disappointed. San is doing a great job at taking care of him. He's unknowingly showing off his gentler, domestic side to their fans. But there's been a severe lack of cuddling. San didn't even kiss him in greeting. San always kisses him after a business trip, to make up for all the missed kisses while he was away. He even rejected Wooyoung's kiss request. Physical touch is Wooyoung's primary love language. And San's not being very physical affectionate.

In their four years together, Wooyoung has gotten sick more times than he can count. And without fail San had always cuddled with him. San never withheld kisses out of fear for his own health. San never ever left him alone to nap. The thought flickers through his mind that San is onto his trick, but he dismisses it. Impossible, he's been in-character the whole time. He just needs to up the ante for more attention.

He uncovers the hidden jar of fake vomit, ready to draw back San's attention. He opens the lid. And after a few wet sounding coughs, he loudly pours the contents into the empty bucket. The sound echoes, and the stench of the chunky liquid is even worse after a night of fermenting. The acid smell almost makes his eyes water. But at least the next few coughs are real, gagging on the stench. It helps make the whole presentation more believable.

San wakes to the sound of liquid hitting plastic, and jumps up when he hears Wooyoung coughing. It doesn't take long for him to piece the two together, despite his fevered haze. And he's in the bedroom before he even realizes his legs moved. He sees Wooyoung cradling the bucket in his lap, face over the rim and spitting into it. His breathing is ragged, exhausted.

"Hyung," Wooyoung whimpers, "I threw up again. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

The whole experience is too much for San's senses. The smell turns his stomach, Wooyoung's high pitched voice which he usually loves rattles a new headache. He suddenly feels too hot and too cold at the same time, feels a fat bead of sweat drip toward his brow. But Wooyoung needs him.

He takes two clumsy steps before he bends at the waist, vomiting whatever’s left in his stomach onto the foot of their bed.

For the first time, Wooyoung breaks character. San's never been one to get sympathy sick. So Wooyoung immediately knows it’s an expression of illness. He spares a millisecond glance to the camouflaged camera before rounding the bed, grabbing San before he collapses into his own mess.

"Wooyoung," San sputters, a line of saliva dangling from his lips. Wooyoung's arms are wrapped around his waist, the only thing keeping him upright. He tries to pull himself away, using the edge of the bed for support. "Get back in bed. I'm okay."

"No you're not, hyung. You just threw up." Wooyoung is not the strongest, but he has no trouble escorting San to his side of the bed. He gets San to lean against the headboard, away from the vomit stain. "Will you throw up again?" Before San has a chance to answer, the younger walks over to pick up the bucket filled with his fake vomit just in case.

San lets out a belch as the smell wafts before him, but it's dry and unproductive. He shakes his head at the question, assumingly empty, and turns his nose away from the foul smelling bucket. He's convinced he'll feel better once it's gone.

Wooyoung takes the hint and sets the bucket aside to be cleaned later. He presses the back of his hand to the older's forehead. "Sannie, you're burning up!"

"It's jetlag," he scripts despite how ridiculous it sounds. When Wooyoung doesn’t budge, he quickly changes tactics. "You're sick too. You shouldn't be worrying about me."

There's a lump in Wooyoung's throat and a guilty look in his eye. This wasn't how he'd envisioned the content to turn out. This wasn't how he wanted to reveal the prank. He feels real nausea from the guilt, but fights it back and confronts the truth, "I'm actually not sick, Sannie." His cheeks flood red with embarrassment, "I wanted to do a prank video. For our channel."

"But the vomit?"

"It's just a combination of vinegar, milk, and bread."

"I took your temperature. You were over 39 degrees."

"The thermometer isn't accurate. I bought it for the prank." Wooyoung scurries off to the bathroom and San notices there's not a falter to his step. He comes back with their actual thermometer. He puts the tip in his ear and waits for the beep. "See, 36.9."

San still looks unconvinced. "The sniffling," Wooyoung exposes the lint baggie. "And the sweating," Wooyoung presents the mist bottle.

San's eyes widen, then sharpen into a glare as he scans the room for the camera. He catches a small glimpse of a reflective surface tucked into their accent plant and points at it. "How long have you been filming?"

Wooyoung's head hangs in shame. He fidgets with his fingers in his lap, unsure of anything else to do with them. Instinct kicks in and he wants to put his hands on San, but he’s sure the older doesn’t want that right now. "Since you got home."

San pouts. He's exhausted as his illness settles in. He craves Wooyoung's nurturing. But he's simultaneously angry at Wooyoung for needlessly worrying him. It's a war inside his head that brings a pulsing pain with each new thought. "I'm going to take a shower." He throws his legs over the edge of the bed, squinting his eyes as dizziness sweeps over him.

"Do you need my help?" Wooyoung offers, also noticing that San is in no condition to escort himself. Out of habit, he wraps an arm around San's shoulders to support him. But San just shrugs him off, hoisting himself off the bed and slowly making his way to their bathroom. Wooyoung takes the hint, despite how much it hurts. He gives San space.

While San's in the shower, Wooyoung tidies the bedroom. He removes the soiled bed sheets and replaces them with a fresh pair. He discards his props, and sets up San's night stand with the necessities. Amidst the chores, Wooyoung hears their doorbell and finds the food San had ordered hanging from the handle. The blonde smiles at the two containers of samgyetang.

San emerges from the bathroom dressed in his comfy lounge wear. He doesn't smell vomit when he enters the bedroom, which is a relief. The bedding is changed, turned down on his side, and he settles right in. Wooyoung had everything set up for him. There's medicine on the nightstand. The bucket has been cleaned again and set down for emergencies. And their real thermometer is leaning against his reading lamp. The only thing missing is Wooyoung.

Maybe Wooyoung really left him alone to take care of himself. He knows Wooyoung would never do that, but the thought still stings. He curls up under the covers and tells himself that Wooyoung didn't do anything wrong. He tells himself that Wooyoung wouldn’t have tried to prank him if he’d known. He convinces himself not to be mad at his best friend. He even blames himself for not telling Wooyoung he’d gotten sick during the trip. Thinking about it nearly pulls him to tears.

Wooyoung enters the room slowly, carrying a lap tray. "Do you mind if I come in?" He asks cautiously from the doorway. San, nearly on the verge of sleep, perks up at the sound of Wooyoung's voice. "If you need time, I get it. I just want to make sure you eat something. You won’t feel better on an empty stomach." The small laugh that follows is the most awkward sound San has ever heard.

"Come here," the older encourages, scooting a bit to make room for Wooyoung.

Wooyoung tries not to feel too excited as he carries the tray inside. He's still feeling guilty about how everything turned out. He needs to make amends. He sets the tray off to the side and sits on the bed. "I'm so sorry, Sannie-hyung. I didn't mean to overwork you. What can I do to make it up to you?"

San shuffles under covers, a mischievous look on his face. He nudges Wooyoung with his knee until he falls off the edge landing with a thud on the ground. The older chuckles a bit at the pout on Wooyoung's face. It makes him feel just a little bit better. Reminds him of why he loves the high-maintenance blonde. "You can start by taking care of me," he shivers, "I’m too tired to stay mad at you.”

Wooyoung hops off the floor and climbs beside San is the bed, cuddling him and playing with his hair. He leaves feather light kisses against his boyfriend's warm forehead. "Of course I'll take care of you, Sannie. You're in good hands."

San hums in content, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Wooyoung's chest. "Can I keep filming? I want all of our fans to know that I can take really good care of you, too." Wooyoung asks, eyeing the discrete camera that's already captured the whole altercation.

San smirks. Wooyoung always bounces back so quickly. It's an endearing quality. "As long as you include the earlier footage of you apologizing to me for faking."

Wooyoung is never too proud to admit his mistakes. Another endearing quality. "Guess we'll split this episode into two parts then." He looks at the camera, then at San again. The older nuzzles close to him. Wooyoung reaches for the bowl without disturbing San’s position. When Wooyoung holds out the full spoon, San just opens his mouth expectantly.

San eats half the bowl before he can’t stomach any more. He starts to doze off, so Wooyoung quickly gets him to take a dose of medicine. San’s compliant as ever, ready to snuggle up with Wooyoung and sleep until he feels better. Wooyoung whispers, not enough for the camera to hear, "Just rest now. I'll be right here." San believes him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: A woosan fic, as promised. Though I must admit, not the one I was working on when I first said I was writing one. I found a new guilty pleasure and had to write a fic about it. I'll be the first to admit I'm not totally satisfied with it. I've been fidgeting with this fic for weeks. I feel rusty after not writing anything for so long. But hopefully getting back into it will help me regain my confidence. So let's see how this goes.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#ateez #ateez sickfic #ateez emeto #ateez fever #sick!San #fakesick!Wooyoung #caretaker!San #caretaker!Wooyoung #ateez nonidol au #woosan #tw emeto #tw fever #tw fake illness #aki sickfic #aki writes

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ashyblondwaves · 2 years ago

Note

19 & Jancy pls

Strangely Sentimental

Prompt: Talking late into the night Pairing: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler Rating: T Word Count: 709

The room was dark, save for the two candles flickering on each bedside table and the bright red of Jonathan's digital alarm clock shining into the darkness. It read 11:47pm, almost the next day but neither Jonathan nor Nancy made any case to end their night. In fact, they seemed to get even more comfortable on Jonathan's bed, both of them sitting cross-legged on each end while The Clash banged low in the background.

"Have you ever thought about was used to be here?" Nancy said thoughtfully. "Hundreds, thousands, millions of years ago?"

"Like Native American burial grounds?" Jonathan asked.

Nancy tilted her head. "That's where your mind goes when I say that?"

"Well, you've been around for what's happened here. What would you think?" Jonathan countered.

"Fair," Nancy relented. "But I meant more like... dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs? Hundreds of years ago?"

"Not hundreds! That's why I also said millions!" Nancy said, exasperated.

"What about dinosaurs?" Jonathan didn't seem to be following her logic.

"What if they roamed this very spot, where we're sitting right now?"

"My bedroom?"

"Jonathan!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jonathan laughed. It was so easy to tease her. He loved the way her brow creased right in the middle of her forehead when she got irritated.

"What if they walked around on the same spot this house was built? What if there are dinosaur fossils underneath your house?!"

Jonathan thought about it, it was a pretty cool idea. To think, a T-Rex may have had his supper on the grounds his house was built on.

"It's probably a silly idea," Nancy backtracked. "There's probably nothing more than arrowheads under this house."

"You never know. What if an epic battle between predators happened right here?" Jonathan asked, trying to put the wind back in Nancy's sails.

"Or a mother nursed eggs here, " Nancy added.

"Or that, but I like the epic battle idea better."

"I think this place has seen enough in the way of epic battles."

It was midnight now, Sunday morning and Nancy had decisions to make. Did she leave the Byers' house and risk waking up her family or did she stay and risk Joyce finding her in Jonathan's room?

"You can stay, you know." It was as if Jonathan could read her mind.

"If you wouldn't mind?" Nancy asked. "I can sleep on the floor I just... if I go home now my parents might wake up and catch me and I don't want to--"

"Nancy, it's ok," Jonathan said soothingly. "And you'll sleep in the bed. If anyone is going to sleep on the floor it'll be me."

"You don't have to," Nancy said a little shyly. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

Jonathan shrugged. It sounded good to him. Right. He moved to blow out the candles, bathing the room in total darkness before he flicked his lamp on.

"You don't have to sleep in a dress," he said. "I have some shorts and t-shirts you can borrow. Or..."

"That would be nice, thank you." Nancy replied.

With a nod, Jonathan stood up and fished through his dresser, producing a t-shirt and shorts for Nancy. Suddenly, the room felt too small. Too intimate.

"You can use the bathroom," Jonathan said swallowing thickly. "Or I could, and you can stay in here and change."

"I'll go in the bathroom," Nancy said, eager to escape the sudden warmth in the room.

Jonathan sighed when Nancy left. What was he doing? Nancy had a boyfriend, and he was inviting her to stay at his house? It was a friendly gesture, that was it. He didn't want her to get in trouble on his account, but if Steve ever found out. He didn't want to think about it.

Nancy came back in, positively swimming in the loaned shirt and shorts. Jonathan couldn't take his eyes off her. She looked entirely too cute in his clothes.

They each took a side of the bed. Nancy slid in under the covers while Jonathan pulled a spare blanket over him and turned off his lamp.

"Goodnight," Jonathan said. "Need the alarm set?"

"Yes," Nancy replied, awkwardly. "Six AM, please. My parents get up at seven on Sundays."

"No problem."

"Thank you," Nancy whispered. "Goodnight."

#musicalchaos07 #jancy #jancy fic #jancy fanfiction #stranger thing #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #jonathan x nancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #i write shit #jancy drabbles

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redandfranticfeelings · 1 year ago

Text

i wrote a bob's burgers fanfic about bob helping louise overcome jitters on her wedding night

inspired by a quote in "poops i didn't do it again," ao3 link will be in replies

Between his racing thoughts and Linda’s restless legs, Bob already wasn’t sleeping too well. So when his humming phone made the bedside table vibrate, he was relatively quick to respond.

“Hello?” he groggily answered.

“Daaaaad!”

Of course he’d know that chipper voice anywhere.

“Louise?” Bob sat up as fast as he could without making himself dizzy. “Is everything okay?”

The last time he’d seen his youngest daughter, she had demanded that none of her family members call her unless someone was dying – “and even then, they better be bleeding or suffocating.” She and Rudy had a morning flight to San Francisco, and knowing how carefully they’d saved for both the wedding and the honeymoon, Bob had taken her instruction seriously. But now she was calling him?

“Oh, it’s better than okay!” She sounded happy, but he couldn’t be too sure. She’d put this same cheery voice on when trying to cut a deal with a customer she wanted to strangle. “Rudy was hungry, so I walked down to this sushi place we’d read about – Sushi Stay or Sushi Go? Yeah, turns out they have a bunch of authentic Japanese cookware here.”

“Oh, really?” Bob rubbed his eyes open.

“Yeah! And it’s all discounted because it’s been slightly used, which is enough to make it basically worthless to rich chefs. I think I even saw a Fukinawa knife.”

“You’re kidding. A real Fukinawa knife?”

“Eyeballing it, I can’t be sure if it’s the real deal, but they just sliced an albacore in mid-air with it, so it’ll put asses in seats anyway. I’m sure you’ll clock it better than I can.”

Bob eased himself up onto the floor. “Where even is this place? You said it’s called… Sushi Stay? Sushi Go?”

“No, no. Sushi Stay or Sushi Go. One phrase. It’s like, right by our hotel. It’s open 24 hours. Big neon sign. You can’t miss it.”

“Alright, Louise. I’ll come check it out.”

As Bob sauntered over to get his coat, his wife began to stir as well. “Wussup, Bobby?” she yawned, not sitting up quite yet.

“Louise called.”

“Oh, is she okay?” Linda yawned, still winded from the reception. “Rudy ain’t already giving her a hard time, is he?”

“No, it’s fine.” Bob pulled his coat over his pajamas and stuffed his feet into his clogs. “It’s just… business stuff. Just a restaurant she wanted to show me before she left.”

“Okay, little night owls.” Linda settled back into her pillow. “Just don’t sleep all morning. Unless I do. Then don’t bother me.” She fell back asleep quickly.

Bob walked to his car, more anxious than ever. There was no Fukinawa knife, and he knew it. And honestly, Louise probably knew he knew it.

----

He already knew the route to Louise’s hotel, so finding the sushi place was pretty easy. It was well-lit, and through the glass, he could see their sole customer sitting up at the counter.

She still wore her wedding dress – well, more of a tuxedo-dress, with the skirt tattered like some kind of corpse bride. Her hair was still down, her idea of having anything “fancy” done with it, because she’d refuted all of Jocelyn’s offers to style it pro-bono. And of course, she had the pink beanie-turned-bandana tied around her head. There was no food in front of her, and as far as Bob could tell, no to-go box for Rudy.

Bob parked in a free spot and opened the door. Louise’s head turned when she heard the bell ring. “Ooooh, you just missed the salesguy.” She put on a facade of frustration. “He needed to get back to Japan for an expo in the morning, so he couldn’t wait up. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I actually don’t have cash, anyway.” Bob took the stool next to his daughter. He noticed, on either side of him, little papers folded to look like fish and seaweed. He picked up a tiny origami fish. “These are cute.”

“Yeah, I think the owner’s kid made them, so he put them out front to cultivate this beachy aesthetic. He said we can take a couple home, the kid’s always making more anyway.” She scoffed. “Child labor, am I right?”

Bob curiously unfolded part of the fish, then immediately regretted it as he had no idea how to replicate all those seamless creases, and his re-folding attempts only seemed to mutilate it further.

“Great going, father,” Louise snarked. “You’re killing endangered marine life.”

“It’s too many creases. Here, you try it.” He handed the crumpled paper square to his daughter. “You know… paper. Better than I do.”

Having spent most of middle school turning red-marked assignments into paper masterpieces, and generally having younger and nimbler hands than her father, Louise re-folded the fish without hesitation. “Wow,” Bob remarked.

“I wonder if origami would suit our place,” Louise mused, making the fish swim through the air. “We hang little paper burgers everywhere or something. Maybe it’ll make us look quote-unquote cultured.”

“I don’t know,” Bob said, giving the same response he always gave Louise’s business ideas. “Half the time we redecorate the restaurant, people get freaked out. Or think we’re haunted. Or a…gay bar? That one time?”

“You’re right. Let’s think bigger. We’ll print our menus bilingually. And every hour, we’ll perform the 2.5D Burobu musical I wrote with Gene in high school. Full love scene included.”

Bob shook his head, giving a very small chuckle. Louise had spent most of her adulthood as his business consultant humbling him, and it had mostly paid off. It seemed she had a new marketing idea every week, and though it wasn’t without some serious costs (“Who cares about the wind? I nearly lost a foot getting these fireworks across the border!”), it definitely drew far more positive attention to the restaurant than they’d gotten in the past two decades. They weren’t booming, but they always had someone curious about the Burger of the Day they’d seen out front (after Louise suggested that, Bob had a week-long crisis about how stupid he’d been for not doing it sooner) and the somewhat unsettling chalk drawing that accompanied it.

“How about we meet in the middle?” He cracked a smile. “You and Rudy can hang up some of your old puppets.”

Something about that drained all the pride from Louise’s face. “Yeah, me and Rudy can do a lot of things now,” she mumbled, focusing narrowly on her paper fish.

Fatherly concern struck Bob once again. “Okay, Louise.” He knew he couldn’t put this off any further. “What are you doing down here in the middle of the night? In your dress?”

She scoffed. “What, a woman can’t swing by a 24-hour sushi place and take in the sights the night before her honeymoon?”

“I mean you can, it’s just… I figured you’d want to be with Rudy tonight. You both seemed pretty excited.”

“Yeah yeah, we were super excited! It’s San Francisco is as close to a trip to Tokyo as I'll ever get! But, uh, well…” Her phony enthusiasm began to falter. “I think we might need to postpone the trip.”

“What?” Bob exclaimed. “Louise, you and Rudy have been saving to go to California for months.” He swore he saw her eye twitch.

“I don’t know…” Her eyes darted around the room. “The weather might be unpleasant? We’ll be sweating our asses off, and you know how easy Rudy burns. Honestly, June weddings are so overrated.” She chuckled, and it was clear she was running out of lies.

“Louise.” Bob made direct eye contact with his daughter – something both of them hated to do.

Louise scoffed and fidgeted for a few more moments, but when she couldn’t dig up any more excuses, she just groaned. “I don’t want a honeymoon, Dad!”

“What changed?”

“Oh, nothing much, just this little thing where I had to declare in front of my entire family that I’d be devoted to one man for the rest of my life.”

“Well, you love Rudy, right?” Bob felt a bit jittery. Louise and Rudy had been dating for nearly a decade before their engagement, so he couldn’t imagine her feeling rushed.

“Of course I do.” There was a softness in her eyes that always emerged when she spoke about Rudy. “He’s like, the nicest person in the world. And when I was looking right at him, telling him I loved him, I really wanted him to know that. I felt that.” She sighed. “But like… everyone else was saying things that just drove me crazy.”

“Like?”

“‘Congrats to you and Rudy.’ ‘You two will have such a great future.’ ‘You look great together.’” She scowled with every sentence. “It’s like I didn’t exist. I just became half of some… Rudy-and-Louise love monster. And when we got to the hotel, he kept introducing me as ‘my wife’ to everyone there.”

“That’s kind of sweet,” Bob said, and he meant it, but his tone didn’t quite convey it.

"Dad." Now she looked her father right in the eyes. "This one little kid in the lobby started calling me ‘My Wife Louise’.”

“Oh. Oh my god.”

“Yeah. Getting back to our room after all that did not exactly put me in a honeymoon mood. He even called room service to order champagne for ‘him and his wife.’ Fuck, how do other newlyweds hear that all day and still jump each other’s bones?” She gripped her dress like she wanted to tear it right off. “You're basically half-people now, so you’re half as sexy too.”

“Mmm.” Understandably, Bob didn’t really want to think about Louise and Rudy like that.

Now that she’d gotten that off her chest, she tried, awkwardly, to revert to her casual arrogance. “Anyway, I was gonna tell him you had an emergency and I couldn’t go to San Francisco with him. But you know I can’t lie to him. So I just wrote my feelings in a note, left it by his bedside while he’s sleeping off the liquor, and I’ll hitch a ride home with you to stay at the apartment. We’ll figure things out in the morning, or whatever.”

“Oh my god. Louise, no.” Bob felt so bad for his daughter, but he knew this was the wrong move. “You can’t just run off. Not after all this.”

“Relaaaaax!” She tried to wave him off. “I’ll still be married to him, legally. I just can’t do all that coupley shit right now. We can consummate our marriage and all that shit in a few months. And I’m not wasting the plane ticket, I’ll just pawn it or haggle for a different day. I’m a great haggler.”

“Still. It’s not fair to Rudy.”

“I know it’s not fair to Rudy!” Louise cried out, startling the chefs working in the kitchen. “I just can’t see any other option. I just know if I go on that trip with him, I’ll spend the whole time feeling like… ‘wife Louise,’ not normal Louise. And I can’t risk turning into that forever. I’m not Tina.”

“You won’t turn into Tina. Also, being Tina isn’t a bad thing.”

“Being Tina, I could survive – barely. Being wife Tina is my fucking nightmare.”

As much as Bob wanted to argue with that, seeing his son-in-law still made him inexplicably twitchy, and the way Tina spoke so fondly of him sounded like a foreign language. He only really understood it when he saw them with his granddaughter.

“But what sucks the most is that I know he’ll figure that out. I know he’ll know I’m upset, and he’ll think it’s because of him. I need him to know it’s not his fault. I’m just not good at being a wife. And I wish I knew that before we got married, because he’s been so terrified I’m gonna leave him for good. So I can’t tell him how fucked up I am to his face, but I can’t lie to him either.”

Louise swatted the fish off the counter, onto the floor, and slumped onto the counter. Bob got off the stool, bent down very carefully, and picked it back up.

“You know, your mother and I didn’t have a honeymoon on our wedding night.”

“Dad, I’ve seen the pictures. You barely had a wedding.”

“True. We’re not really… good at romance. I mean, your mother is. She’s really into it.”

“This to the girl who just endured an eight-minute musical wedding toast. Preaching to the choir, Dad.”

Bob chuckled. Linda had spent months workshopping that, and what she sang at the reception wasn’t even half of what she’d written. “My point is, I didn’t think I’d be good at being a husband. And maybe I’m not, to some people. Your mother usually thinks I am. But I guess everyone has a different idea of what a married couple should be. We're not all like Tina and Daniel. I mean, I love your mother, but if I did everything she wanted us to do, I’d be… really tired. All the time.”

“You would be?” Louise was smiling again.

“Hey, cut me some slack. It’s the middle of the night. Plus I just had to bend down.” He placed the fish back in front of Louise. “But you and Rudy can have fun together and still be your own people. Like, he can do his magic, and you can do your… delightfully creepy blackboard drawings.”

“You make my job sound like my only hobby. You make my life sound sad.”

“Mmm. And then both of you can do your puppet shows and anime conventions and hikes and stuff. And you don’t have to hold yourself back.”

“I kind of do. Rudy can’t walk too far without losing his breath.”

“I mean you don’t have to stop being Louise. You’re just…” He glanced down at the paper fish. “The same Louise, in a different shape.”

Louise ran her thumb along the creases. The paper had some awkward creases from being folded and unfolded, but they knew it was a fish. Just like Bob still knew she was Louise.

“Geez,” she scoffed, “if you’re gonna use them for corny metaphors, maybe we’ll ditch the origami idea.” She passed the fish to her dad. “Here. I hear some customers use these as tips in Japan. Consider it a tip for some good fatherly advice.”

“Honestly, I prefer being tipped with money.”

“Oh, hard agree.”

“But… coming from my daughter, it means a lot.”

The bride finally scooted off the stool. “Welp, I better get back to my hotel. I got a marital bed to sneak back into.”

“You should destroy that note.”

“Totally. It’ll feel good.” Louise held out her hand to help her aging father to his feet. “You know, the sashimi here isn’t even worth taking home to him. They need that cutesy beginner's origami more than we ever will.”

Louise held onto Bob all the way to his car, and he held the strands of her dress to ensure neither of them would trip. He sat in the driver’s seat and watched her walk back home for a few minutes, but he definitely wouldn’t follow her. After all, she was an independent woman.

----

Rudy Belcher was out like a light, still wearing everything from the wedding except his blazer and one shoe, which were draped over a chair. He looked so delicate, even as he snored up a storm. Louise always listened carefully as she fell asleep to make sure he didn’t choke.

As she undressed and crawled into bed, Louise carefully took the folded-up note from the bedside table. She quietly unfolded it, scrunched up her nose at the curt writing, then re-folded it into a paper fish and placed it under her pillow before wrapping her arm around Rudy.

Maybe in the morning before boarding, she’d throw it onto the runway and hope that it’d swim into a jet engine.

Or just rip it up like a normal person.

But that wouldn’t be very Louise of her, would it?

#bobs burgers #louise belcher #bob belcher #rudy x louise #bobs burgers fanfiction #my fic

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eddiemunsonappreciationsociety · 2 years ago

Text

MY WORD IS MY BOND

Part Four: You appeal to a girl like me, told me every blessing has a scar

Can he call me?

I mean yeah, he can call me.

Do I want him to?

Yeah.

I mean no.

No.

I shake my head, trying to clear my brain of the brown-eyed fog.

Goddamned love spell.

I pick up my phone and tap away

Do you think that's a good idea?

The reply is instantaneous

Yes.

Can't argue with that.

My phone jumps to life almost as soon as I hit send.

"You do not know the meaning of playing it cool, huh?" I say into the phone and he chuckles in response.

"I don't need to play it cool, I invented cool." he teases, voice like gravel and honey all at the same time.

His voice makes my heart race a little, I feel myself briefly falter.

"You initiated a phonecall "

"What's your point?"

"I haven't had a willing conversation with my friends on the phone..." I think "maybe ever."

"I am older than you by a bit, I suppose, I'm being far too old-fashioned. Should I send you some memes first?" his tone is playful

"How old are you?" I blurt out. "Shit, sorry is that rude?"

"No, not rude." he finally says after his laughter dies. "But I'm not going to give you vampire chat without a date."

"What do you mean?" I squeak out. I switch over to watching New Girl to feel some sort of comfort. My heart is racing.

"We have to build trust, I get that. I want us to get to know each other but I'm not giving away the good stuff for free. If you go on a date with me, I'll answer any questions you have."

I pause and think about the offer he's presenting.

"We'll see."

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes," I warn him.

"But it's not a no." and I can hear the goofy smile in his voice.

"What are you doing?" I try and steer the conversation away.

"I'm just about to finish my bottle of whisky and my joint and probably watch TV until I fall asleep."

So vampires sleep? Interesting.

"Sounds a little like mine, but I'm waiting on Chinese. And swap the whisky for gin."

I can't keep the grin off my face as we speak. My cheeks hurt.

"What are you watching?" he asks, I hear a lighter and him inhale on the other side of the phone.

"New Girl, it's about my fiftieth watch through but it's funny every time. "

"Oh, I actually enjoy that one."

My door knocks, making me jump.

"Are you ok?" his voice is more alert.

"Shit, yeah, my food is here. Wait there." I put my phone on the table as I retrieve my food and tip the driver. I bring it to the living room to the awaiting plate. I top my glass up with my homemade gin and pink lemonade and pick up the phone.

"Back." I sigh, sitting down and tucking my feet under me, and the phone under my chin as I dish up my food.

"What did you get?"

"Salt and pepper tofu, mock duck in plum sauce, and veggie fried rice."

"You're a veggie?" I can hear teasing in his voice.

"Mostly. Are you laughing at me?"

"No, I think I just won a bet with myself."

"What are you watching?" I expertly divert the conversation once again.

"The Mandalorian."

"Solid choice. Grogu is the best."

"Yeah, he's cute as fuck." Eddie agrees.

I take this opportunity to pop a piece of crispy tofu in my mouth and I can't stop the moan that comes from me as my mouth explodes with the salt and pepper seasoning.

"You cannot make noises like that when you're on the phone with me." his voice is tinged in something that makes my stomach squeeze.

"Sorry," I find myself blushing.

"No, it's..." he clears his throat. "You don't have to ever apologise to me."

His voice is steady now, sincere.

I wake up late Sunday, I don't feel any surprise as I see it's just gone one in the afternoon. Eddie and I had talked well into the early hours, it feels like we covered everything but barely scratched the surface. I stretch my arms and legs under the duvet, enjoying the comfort and rest that tingles throughout me. I try to stop the smile on my face because I've pulled my cheek muscles.

I didn't even know that was possible.

I roll over and retrieve my phone from the bedside table and I have two messages.

Eddie:

Good afternoon, I have just woken up, I had such a good time last night, and I hope we can continue talking today.

Stella:

Good morning my sugar lump, I will be over after 1 with brunch so have a joint rolled.

She'd sent that over an hour ago and I jump up, heading to the kitchen and switching on the coffee machine. I open my rolling box and wave my hand over it and a joint begins to roll itself as I continue to make coffee, knowing I'd woken up because I could sense Stella getting near.

I feel some of my energy leave me and I am now a little sleepy.

I don't usually like to use magick so frivolously, it takes more energy from me when I do lazy spells because it's using magick for an idle reason. But sometimes a little fatigue is better than the Sunday wrath of your best friend. Whilst the coffee is brewing I type a quick reply to Eddie.

I said we would get to know each other when we said goodbye, it wasn't just the homemade gin talking - pinky promise.

Seconds later my front door opens, it's Stella letting herself in with her key.

"Hey you little slut, where the fuck did you get to?" she demands, coming through to the kitchen and dumping her armfuls of food on the table. She has at least three different types of bags.

This is our ritual if we both have a day off together, a table full of food, a little smoke, a little drink, and something funny to watch.

"He left and I went home." I shrug, handing her the rolled joint and a lighter as I go about making our espresso martinis.

"Nuh-uh, I have been patient. Tell me everything."

I take a breath and spill the goods. I don't stop talking as we take the food (sushi, breakfast burritos, and freshly made cheesecake) and sit down, I don't stop talking as we switch on Jurassic Shark, I don't stop talking as we smoke, and I don't stop talking as we head back to the kitchen for more espresso martinis.

I tell her everything, but leave out the vampire stuff. Stella, my best friend of twenty-three years, knows I am a witch but I have never revealed any other supernatural goings-on to her. She just enjoys me making her spells and summoning things when we're too drunk to move.

"So, are you going to see him again?" Stella demands, putting her feet on my lap as she stretches out, Elphaba purring on her stomach, Chance curled up by my feet.

"I don't know." I sigh as the film finishes, I select Llamageddon from the suggestions and sip my drink.

"What do you mean you don't know?" she asks, incredulously.

I realise there's no proper way to explain a no.

"I just- I don't know."

"You weirdo, you just said you had a boss time talking to him, you literally just relayed an entire night of talking without taking a breath."

I shrug and she blows her fringe out of her eyes, exasperated.

"If you don't sit on that face, I will." Stella's tone is a warning. She laughs as she's my face. "I'm joking, please don't hex me."

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