#hiii come check me out here

[kxsalt]

*Hic* - *Hic*! Well past midnight, the man opens his front door to find a young drunk lady. His best friend’s sister holds her heels in one hand. Wavering on his doorstep, she explains. “Hiii! I hope I *hic* didn’t wake youuu… Cahn I use your bathroom?” He chuckles at her slurred speech and obliges. Letting the girl inside, he takes her shoes and watches her bum wiggle away in her little black dress.

She spends long enough in the bathroom that he considers checking on her. His friend’s sister finally emerges, flowing like water into the room. The girl’s pupils are dilated. She stares around at the art on his walls, gawking at nothing in particular. “The lights in here are soooo nice…” Mumbling and dizzy, she flops onto the couch next to him. “Having a fun night?”

Prompted by his questions, the girl launches into an elaborate description of her night. Her friend’s house. The club. Free shots. Another club. The girl had been staggering home when she stopped by. He’s fairly certain that she’s left out at least one detail. She sniffs, swallows, and grinds her teeth. Running out of story, the girl stares off into space. One hand rubs the blanket on the couch.

“That does sound like a lot of fun.” She’s not paying attention. “This blanket is *hic* soooo soft… How did it get that soft?” The girl doesn’t notice the awkward silence as she strokes it against her face. “Uh, it’s well worn… Here, I like it on my legs.” He pulls the blanket across her bare thighs. His hand rubs the blanket, groping her body through the fabric.

A naïve giggle. “Hahaha, omg that feels sooo nice!” The man pushes up her leg, rubbing his covered fingers against her pussy. “Oh…” It takes her a moment to process what’s happening. “Uhm…” She pushes his hand away. “I should really go.” Standing up, her legs wobble and start to give out. She falls back onto the couch.

“Whoa, young lady. You’re way too drunk to be wandering around at night. There’s lots of creeps out there. You have to stay the night. You can use the soft blanket.” Already forgetting his forbidden touch, the girl touches the blanket. “I dunno. I don’t wanna be trouble.” He shakes his head. “You’re no trouble. You know me, I’ll take care of you.”

The host fetches her a strong drink. She takes another long bathroom break. The girl is spacy and dazed as he puts her hand in his lap. Pushing in close to her, the man touches her thighs and back. “Waht… are you…?” Her slurring has turned into confused mumbles. “You wanted to fool around, right? It feels good, right?” She swallows nervously.

“Maybe… I dunno… I could think *hic* about it tomorrow? Like I’m kinda drunk…” The girl tries to shuffle away. “What do you mean? You’re fine. Barely tipsy. You don’t feel sick or something do you?” He rubs her shoulders. “Uh, no, I feel good.” The blanket slips aside. Bare fingers touch her pussy. “Well, you’re fine then. Let’s just do a little bit.”

Relenting, she lets him touch her. In the blur, his hard cock is pressed into her palm. The girl is willing enough to stroke him while he plays with her pussy. A moment of clarity comes when he kisses her. “Um… weird… you’re my brother’s friend… we shouldn’t be doing this.” His finger slips into her wet cunt. “It’s okay, it’ll be our little secret.”

She falls into the blur again. The confused girl regains focus with him laying on top of her. Between her legs, he rubs his cock against her pussy. “I…” She can barely articulate herself. “I don’t wanna…” The man feigns indignity. “You always wanted to. I know you’ve thought about it. You just told me you have.” Humiliated that she would admit to fantasizing about him, she covers her face. Blurry imprints of the light dance across her closed eyes.

“You’re so good.” She comes to. His cock slides in and out of her young pussy. “Please st-“ He interrupts her. “I’m so happy you wanted to hook up.” Warm pleasure from drugs and sex pour through her body. “Did.. I…?” The man laughs as he fucks her. “Yeah, that’s why you came over.”

Why did I come over? I wanted to use the bathroom. I trust him. She stares down between their bodies. Her black dress is pulled up and down, showing off her tits and pussy. Maybe I did want to hook up with him. I guess it feels good. His body increases the pressure on her. He’s already inside me. I can’t ask him to stop, now.

The girl submits. He enjoys her slippery pussy. The man rolls her onto her stomach and holds her hair as he fucks her. It feels good. So that probably means I wanted it. Rutting deep into her pussy, he pushes her into the soft blanket. Comfortable, she starts to fade again. The alluring fabric touches against her face with every rough thrust.

Her black dress lays on the blanket. The man carries the young lady to bed. Cum runs out of her pussy. Standing over her half-conscious body, he strokes his cock. Through scattered vision, she watches him get hard. “That was so good, let’s do it again.” He muses. “…nuh…” The girl mumbles. “Come on, you already did it once.” His cock is thrust into the limp girl. “uh… okay… I guess…”

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[adrienneleclerc]

hiii! I was wondering if you could please do a fic where Charles is dating a tall reader kinda like Tom and Zendaya's relationship

Hi! So Tom and Zendaya have a two inch difference, I can definitely make Charles date like a 6’1 reader, I was debating whether or not to make her a model so she can take advantage of her height. So I made her model for the same agency as Kika and she met Charles through Kika.

Model Behavior

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Tall! Reader

Summary: Charles is obsessed with his girlfriend

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: i Don’t really follow “Tomdaya” like that But from what i see on TikTok, Tom is Zendaya’s biggest fan so let’s see how this turns out. Also sorry for the late response! I have not been sleeping well lately, let me tell you. Don’t know if this is what you wanted…

Kika and Y/N were doing a photo shoot for the Miss Dior perfume, they were in hair and makeup.

“Oh just FYI, my boyfriend and his friends are coming on the shoot.” Kika said as the makeup artist was doing her eyebrows.

“Oh that’s cool, I finally get to meet your F1 boyfriend. Why are they coming over though?” Y/N asked.

“Pierre said that he doesn’t have a race this weekend so he is free for today and he invited Charles with him because they’re doing something later.” Kika responded after checking her texts.

“Cool, cool, how’s my blowout looking, Dana?” Y/N asked her hairstylist

“It’s looking good, mama.” Dana said.

“You sure?” Y/N asked. (Personally, as someone with 2C/3A curls, I get paranoid when it comes to blowouts. Not to mention pin straight hair, I think it looks awful on me)

“Yes I’m sure." Dana replied, putting rollers in Y/N's hair to have that voluminous 90s blowout look. Kika and Y/N were sipping their smoothies that they got earlier when Kika's eyes were covered.

"Guess who." The frenchman said. Kika took his hands off her eyes and turned her head.

"Pierre, querido, hi!" Kika got up from her chair to hug him. When he separated from him, she saw Charles. "Charles, can't believe you're here." She hugged him as well. "Oh, this is my friend and coworker, Y/N." Kika introduced Y/N to the F1 drivers and Y/N got up from her chair.

"It is nice to meet you guys." Y/N said, hugging the boys as well. Charles was in awe of Y/N, not because she was taller than him, but because she was so beautiful, so ethereal, basically a walking angel. He wouldn't be surprised if she was a Victoria's Secret Angel as well.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Pierre, this is my friend Charles." Pierre said, patting Charles on the back, he just waved.

“Oh Charles, congratulations on your home race win, that must have been exciting, right?” Y/N asked.

“You Watch Formula 1?” Charles asked, finally getting the nerve to speak.

“Oh yeah, big Ferrari fan too.” Y/N commented and Charles smiled.

“Hey, we should all go out to eat when the shoot is done.” Kika suggested, looking between charles and Y/N.

“Sounds great.” Charles said.

“But we’re supposed to…” Pierre was interrupted by Kika dragging him away. “What.”

“Querido, It’s obvious Charles likes Y/N and she likes him too, let’s just do a little double date and see if Charles asks her out himself.” Kika explained to her boyfriend.

“Okay fine, but you have to pay me back for paintball.” Pierre said and Kika rolled her eyes.

“Yeah i know, bebé.” Kika said and she walked back to Charles and Y/N, who were still talking to each other. Kika was going to say something when Dana came back.

“Y/N, time to take those rollers out. Kika, you’re needed on set.” Dana said, taking out Y/N’s rollers and brushing out the Dyson curls.

“Oh yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” Kika said to Y/N. They took some pictures with Kika, then pictures with Y/N, and then there were some, photos taken with Kika and Y/N together. The shoot took about 2 hours and Charles was just watching in awe, seeing how Y/N posed and how the photos turned out in the monitor, she truly was beautiful.

“That’s a wrap everyone! Kika, Y/N, good work girls, I’ll see you on the runway.” The guy in charge said. Kika and Y/N thanked the man and changed back to their usual clothes before leaving with Pierre and Charles.

The 4 of them went out to eat and they had a great time. At the end of the night, Charles managed to ask Y/N out on a proper date and she said yes. They have been dating for a few months and Charles couldn’t be a better boyfriend.

Charles took videos of Y/N walking the runway, behind the scenes photos of Y/N getting ready, posted them to his instagram grid and story. He is so proud of her, he was standing up whenever Y/N walked out, clapping, cheering, being Y/N’s biggest fan.

“You were spectacular out there, mon coeur.” Charles said, getting on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Y/N was wearing heels so now she was 5 inches taller than him.

“Thank you, baby.” Y/N said. When they were walking outside the venue, paparazzi started taking photos of them. They made it to his car and Y/N saw Charles’s instagram. “Aww, thank you, Charles, you’re the best.” Y/N kisses him before he started the car. They made it to Charles apartment and Y/N was getting ready for bed.

“You are so beautiful, Mon coeur.” Charles said, looking at Y/N removing her runway makeup.

“You don’t have to keep saying that, you know.” Y/N said.

“But it’s true. I am so lucky to have you, my whole following thinks so too.” Charles said before kissing her. “You coming to the Grand Prix next weekend?”

“Yep! I Don’t have any photo shoots to do that weekend so I’m going to support you and Carlos.” Y/N said.

“Perfect, I love you.” Charles said, kissing her again.

“I love you too, babe. Goodnight.” Y/N said, they got into bed and cuddled until they slept.

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 1,378,993 others

charles_leclerc Milan Fashion Week (spring-summer 2025) with yourusername, she was amazing as always, so proud of my beautiful girlfriend, she’ll be on billboards in no time.

User27 I thought it was an Y/N fan account at first, but it was just Charles simping for his girlfriend 😂

User 32 Y/N is so beautiful 😍 how did Charles bag a baddie like her

charles_Leclerc guess im just lucky

User 23 imagine having your boyfriend dedicating a post to you. They are such an adorable couple

User 45 Y/N dedicates posts to him too whenever she’s at a Grand Prix, they are so perfect for each other

User 61 girl, they’ve been dating for 3 months, relax

User 45 but they’re so cute 🥰

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Also, just a little experiment, if you follow me, comment why, thank you!

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Hiii! Could you imagine one where the reader finds out she's pregnant during one of Spencer's missions and when he comes home she has a crisis and ends up feeling ill and Spencer doesn't know how to help and the reader doesn't know how to tell him she's pregnant. (Both are already married)

i took this opportunity to set my pregnant!reader series into the future cause i already planned for them to have another child. request is tweaked justttt a little.

“my dear sweet penny, can you hit me with a bus? i want this misery to end.” you’ve been hit with the worst stomach bug or flu or just something that’s been lasting since spencer went on his case, five days ago.

your mom took your daughter for the day when you realized you weren’t getting out of bed anytime soon and you called in your reinforcement of one penelope garcia. the case ended yesterday but the team had to stay an extra day due to weather in their state, so penelope has been keeping you company for the past two days. it was nice to have an adult conversation instead of bluey and the same princess movies.

“okay, if you’re pleading for death that means it’s time to head over to a hospital. i don’t want spencer to hypothetically bite my head off if something happens to you.” her bright blonde hair was your shining sun in your darkened bedroom. and her jewelry were loud gongs with each step she took. “i hate to sound like a bitch but can you like, be the opposite of yourself today?” moaning and groaning as you tried pushing off the tossed sheets.

“yeah, you need a doctor. cause and i quote ‘penny if i even say to change yourself i’ve been abducted and that’s an alien.’ hopefully they can give you good drugs.”

at the hospital they took some blood, made you pee and just did a bunch of other check ups when it was shown you were sick with anything. so after an hour or so your doctor renters the sterile room with his clipboard and a poker face. “well, you’re not sick, but you are pregnant. we’ll get an ultrasound in here to check on the fetus.” talk talk talk and then he left again, leaving you and penelope open mouthed shocked.

“holy shit,” breathing out as your hand rubbed over your still small belly. “i told spencer i couldn’t keep my hands to myself.” telling that to the ceiling.

“oh, i’ll have another godchild! i’m so happy to live vicariously through you.” penelope stood at your side and smiled down at you. you turned your head towards her, “you know when they’re older, you’ll be our go-to babysitter then. so just be prepared for that.”

with the ultrasound done they confirmed you were almost done with your first trimester and that left you a bit shocked. you were three months pregnant but didn’t know, now you understand how some of those other ladies feel. but you were excited for another, but then you were done, seriously.

you tried calling spencer after leaving but his phone when to voicemail, but you didn’t think anything of it. probably feel asleep or out doing something with his team. so when you arrived to your mom’s place you were a bit surprised to see your husband holding your daughter and swinging her around.

“you’re back!” penny the first to speak and move further into the home. spencer and anna both turned their heads and smiled at the bright lady. “auntie penny!” your annabeth squealed with an arm out.

she happily took her from spencer’s hold and moved her away so you could talk with spencer. his puppy eyes and downturn mouth made your heart soar, oh how he’s gonna get you into so much trouble.

“you feeling better? your mom said it’s been a week.” pulling you into his hold, cheek pressed into his chest as his palms rubbed over your shoulder blades and spine. you sighed, “yeah, penny took me to the doctor. turns out i wasn’t sick… i was- i am pregnant.”

spencer’s hands stopped and leaned back, “what?” his brows raised into his curling locks. “how far along?” “three months…” biting into your bottom lip as you watched him go through his mental calendar. you both knew your period was irregular, that’s why you didn’t think anything of it.

“so it must’ve been sometime after annie’s fourth birthday,” spencer came to the conclusion. leaned in to peck your forehead, “are you okay with another?” always making sure you were okay with the decision.

you smiled up at him with a twinkle in your eyes, “absolutely.”

[bunnys-kisses]

Hiii can I please have a profiteroles with a side of Martini and juice served by Charles Leclerc

bakery menu

want to order something? check out the menu! there are all kinds of things on it for your liking! these delicious items are waiting for you! if you want to submit for an order outside of formula one, please do! as for this, i feel so bad that i haven't written enough charles! charles is who got me into f1 originally, so to not write him a lot feels so weird! (the verstappen brain rot is real)! as for this, i love a good mafia au.

profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + martini (mafia au) + juice (cockwarming) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!charles, cockwarming, clingy!charles, breast play/worship, college student!reader, devoted!charles

you often found those mafia romance novels that were sold in the grocery stores rather amusing. the cheesy covers and titles, the dumb plots and the over exaggeration of characters. it was all very.. funny.

mostly because you had nabbed yourself your own mafia lover. and while he was one of the most dangerous men in monaco. around you he was a huge suck-up.

while in public he was smiles and a sharp eye. behind the scenes he was vicious and scary. but, when it was just the two of you alone in the mansion you called home. charles leclerc, was mafia prince of monaco, wanted nothing more than to feel the soft flesh of his lover between his calloused hands.

and love you like the precious gem you were.

he had come from a week in the netherlands. it was always nice to see his long time friend, you knew business was talked about, but you tried not to pry too deeply. charles tried to keep your name and face out of that line of work, the last thing he needed was his princess to have a price of her head.

for all everyone knew, you were a simple university student in one of the most beautiful places on earth. he had arrived home and beckoned for you to join him in the shower.

you kissed his bronzed skin, you chuckled when he returned the kisses. even brushing his lips across each of your fingers like a quiet worship.

he noticed the bandage on your finger and held your hand up to you. he tilted his head to the side like a puppy as he asked, "what's this, what happened?" his voice tinged with concern.

you chuckled, "i was chopping onions a few days ago and i nicked my finger. trust me, it was nothing serious. just keeping it covered to heal." you smiled at him.

he nodded and kissed your fingers, "you have to be careful, mon amor. i can't have you getting hurt when i'm not here." he kissed the bandage softly.

once your shower was done, you helped dry him off before you took him to the bed to get comfortable. you were both naked and curled up in bed together. you chose a movie to put on in the background while you became reacquainted with his body and him with yours.

you pressed your palm against his and noticed the difference in your hand sizes, "what was holland like, it's been so long since i've been there."

he chuckled, "same old, same old, mon amor. max had asked about you, he always asks about you. i told him to back off, he cold have any woman he wanted. but you are mine."

you giggled, "he's probably saying it to get under your skin." while you flew under the radar most of the time, at least with forces that could hurt you. but close friends of the family knew of you. like max verstappen, a close ally of charles. as a result the dutchman knew to mess with charles he simply had to bring you up.

it was like the time he mailed you a nijntje plush and charles was almost on the next flight to utrecht to kick his ass. in reality you had asked max to do that for you because you wouldn't be able to get it in monaco. (charles just forgot).

your lover's hands roamed your body and his cock twitched between his legs. he said softly, "i need you. i've needed you all week. you were all i could think of." his jaw tensed, "you drive me mad, mon amor. you're all i ever want."

you got him seated upright against the headboard and you straddled his waist. with a little help you sank down on his cock, but you didn't ride him. instead you warmed his cock as you straddled him. it slipped in with ease and the feeling made him shudder.

he wrapped those strong arms around you and held you. you got comfortable against his chest and kissed at the side of his neck. he melted into your touch, loving the feeling of you around him.

"i thought about you every moment i was away." he dipped his head towards your chest, he peppered kisses along the soft flesh, "i wondered if you were eating, sleeping, if you were going to classes." he sighed.

"i know, my dear." you said as you held him close to your chest and combed your fingers through his dark hair, "you were constantly texting me. i'm sorry that i couldn't text you during my lecture, you know all about that professor."

he sighed, "i could kill him."

you pulled away further and wagged your finger at him, "don't you care, leclerc. he is one of the best professors in the region." and he whined, you let him press himself back to your chest.

you let out a small noise when he mouth captured your left nipple. his hands explored your bare back, yearning for the closeness. his cock was heavy inside of you and you played with his hair.

the movie played on in the background, the light from the television cascaded you in a soft glow. you rolled your hips a little to give him a bit of friction, which made a shiver run up his spine.

"i love you." he said.

"i love you too." you yanked on his hair a little bit and he moaned with your nipple in your mouth. he played with your breasts, cupping them in his hands.

oh lord, you were perfect. those beautiful eyes looked to you and you smiled down at him. you leaned in and kissed his forehead. you rolled your hips a little more and let the feeling wash over both of you.

to just be so softly intimate felt nice, after time apart from one another. to feel close to your mafia boyfriend, felt good. he left a few marks across your soft breasts which only made you clench around his cock.

"you're my whole world, mon amor. to the ends of the earth, i love you."

"and i love you, charles." it wasn't the easiest thing being in love with someone so powerful. but the way he looked at you, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve for you. all the risks seemed to fade away, you loved him and he loved you.

you two continued to kiss once more, you knew that he was getting hot all over. his skin felt electric as you pressed your hands on his chest. you could feel his racing heartbeat as the two of you made out.

he looked up at you as you held his face, you rubbed the scar on his cheek, you could see the hearts in his eyes. "my world." he said.

"my universe."

he chuckled, "you always have to one-up me, huh?" he kissed your neck softly as felt the shudder of pleasure through his body. he knew he was close, he held onto you while the movie played and softly thrusted up into you. he couldn't handle it anymore. he kissed at your collarbones and groaned against your warm skin.

"i love you."

"and i love you more, forever. you are mine until the sun swallows the earth whole." he promised. he just wanted to be smothered by you, to hold onto you tightly. to love you with all of his heart.

he was in heaven, heaven was you. you were the angel that whatever god sent down to him. and he'd worship the ground you walked on until the ends of the earth. you were his soul, his beating heart.

not even the mafia lifestyle could pull the love he had for you out of him. you were the reason why he never got cold.

he shuddered as orgasm took over. then it ended with you on your back and him looming over you. those eyes of his transfixed you as he panted heavily. he pulled you in for a kiss, "i love feeling close to you." he said quietly. he looked down at you, his cock still buried in your at the hilt, the movie droned in the background. he kissed your jaw, "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

you smiled at him and draped your arms around him. you yearned for your own orgasm, you leaned up and kissed him on the lips, "i'd like to go back home."

"home? i thought i was your home." he pressed himself against you, his mind clearing up from the orgasm.

"i mean my childhood home." you played with his hair, "you've shown me your world, now i want to show you mine. it might not be as extravagant as monaco, but.... i want to make memories with you there."

he perked up at the thought. you wanted to show him your life. the life you had before you met. he broke out into a grin and wrapped his strong arms around you. he kissed at you face and said, "of course. i would love to meet your family, see your home. thank you! thank you!"

you smiled and kissed him once more. even with his cock still snugly inside of you. it was cute to see him light up. you've seen the headlines and his face in the paper. you've seen what he's capable of. but when he was with you, he was nothing more than a sweet puppy.

you kissed him once more before you shifted and asked, "now why don't you make me cum before we start to make plans, handsome?" you giggled as you pulled him in for a kiss once more.

those romance novels were silly, because if they were writing mafia bosses the way that your beloved charles was, the stories would be a lot less steamy and a lot more clingy. <3

[solarsturniolo]

Hiii, I’m Natalie but you can call me Nat 💋. I’m 22 and have been watching the triplets since spring 2022. Not much you need to know about me tbh and not that you or anyone else really cares anyways.

I am an adult, i do write adult content about other adults. if this makes you uncomfortable, you are not obligated to read any of it and i wholeheartedly understand. Also keep in mind that I am an adult and i work a full time job. Writing is my hobby. I will not be as consistent with posting because I do have other priorities that come first. I will try to update as much as possible, but once again I am an adult with an adult life and adult responsibilities. All I ask is that you stay patient with me and show some grace where it is needed. I work very hard on my writing and appreciate any attention that it gets, please do not blow up my inbox repeatedly with the same prompt. I promise you that I see it.

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, click here!

𝔘𝔭𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱: click here! 💋

Also, here is a reminder of how to NOT inbox me about inquiries on updates, new prompts, or just in general. Click here!

Here is a masterlist of everything that I write, I'll do my best to keep it updated!

𝔎𝔢𝔶

🚀 - smut

✨ - fluff

🪐- angst

🌌- other

ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

𝔗𝔬𝔬 𝔇𝔞𝔪𝔫 𝔏𝔬𝔫𝔤

✫彡 Part One 🚀

✫彡 Part Two 🚀

✫彡 Part Three 🚀

✫彡 Part Four 🚀

✫彡 Final Part 🚀

𝔇𝔦𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔇𝔢𝔴

✫彡 Part One

✫彡 Part Two

ÈVÈR¥WHÈRÈ Ì GÖ

✫彡 Intro

𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶, 𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶, 𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶

✫彡

Texts w Best Friend!Chris

✫彡 Part one ✨🌌

✫彡 Part two ✨🌌

✫彡 Part three ✨🌌

✫彡 Part four ✨🌌

Texts w FWB!Chris

✫彡 Part one 🚀🪐✨🌌

✫彡 Part two 🚀🪐✨🌌

✫彡 Part three 🚀🪐✨🌌

Texts w Bf!Chris

✫彡 Part one

Texts w Skater!Chris

✫彡 Part one

✫彡 Part two

✫彡 Part three

✫彡 Part four

✫彡 Part five

✫彡 Part six

✫彡 Part seven

✫彡 Part eight

✫彡 Part nine

HEADCANONS

✫彡 Sub!Chris 🚀🌌

✫彡 Overstimulated (Coming soon)

𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

✫彡 We're Just Friends pt 1 🚀

✫彡 We’re Just Friends pt 2 🚀

✫彡 We're Just Friends pt 3 🪐✨🌌

✫彡 We’re Just Friends pt 4

✫彡 We’re Just Friends pt 5 (Coming Soon)

Play Dirty

✫彡 Part one

✫彡 Part two

Creep

✫彡 Introduction

✫彡 One

Pugs ‘N’ Kisses

✫彡 Pugs 'N’ Kisses Prologue 🪐🚀🌌

✫彡 One

✫彡 Nothing 🪐🌌

✫彡 Comfort Zone (Coming Soon) ✨

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 1 🚀🌌

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 2 🚀🌌

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 3 🚀🌌

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 4

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 5

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 6

✫彡 Texts w Bf!Matt pt 7

✫彡 Texts w FWB!Matt

✫彡 Texts w FWB!Matt pt 2

✫彡 Texts w FWB!Matt pt 3

HEADCANONS

✫彡 Sub!Matt 🚀🌌

✫彡 NSFW Alphabet 🚀🌌

✫彡 Overstimulated 🚀🌌

✫彡 Dom!Matt (Coming Soon)

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© 2024 Solarsturniolo

THINGS I WILL NOT WRITE ABOUT: STEP SIBLINGS??????????, Nick x fem!reader, self-harm, suicidal thoughts or tendencies, incest???!!!!!!, sensitive topics such as eating disorders, abuse, etc, any kinks involving urine or feces, beastiality, SEXUAL ASSAULT OR R*PE, (this list will probably be continued at some point but this is what i have for now)

These are all great stories that I’ve read and recommend! Definitely check these stories out!

ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

✫彡 Panty Thief by @evieolo

✫彡 Lollipop by @freshloverr (Part two here!)

✫彡“Cool Spider” by @gamermattsgf

𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬

✫彡 Painted by @flowerxbunnie

✫彡 Ink by @flowerxbunnie

✫彡 7 Minutes in Heaven by @middlepartmatt

✫彡THIS FUCKING STORY by @pearlzier

[moonstruckme]

hiii I'm just here resubmitting my request<3 so maybe r was in a fire (a small or large one, u decide), james was called and when he finds out it was her he gets sooo worried and she goes to the hospital or something? thank u!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: fire, paramedics/ambulance, symptoms of smoke inhalation

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

James starts to stand you up when the ambulance turns onto your block. 

“Jamie, don’t bother them.” You feel a cough building in your chest, but you repress it. “I’m f—fine.” It escapes on the last syllable, and you can barely look at your boyfriend as he raises his eyebrows at you, incredulous.

“Humor me,” he says simply. 

You let him pull you up this time, and he presses a kiss into your hair even though you smell like pollution. James has stripped out of his bulky jacket, but the heavy pants still hang from suspenders wrapped around his black t-shirt. The fabric swishes against your leg as you make your way over to the ambulance. 

“We need oxygen,” he says without prelude, though not unkindly, nodding at the paramedic that gets out first in greeting. 

As if to punctuate this, your throat pinches warningly, and you let out a couple of meager coughs. James’ arm contracts around your waist. 

The paramedic seems to trust his authority, nodding for her partner to get something ready in the back while she walks over to you. 

“Look here please,” she says. 

You obey, flinching slightly when she points a pen light in your eyes. James’ hand migrates up to your shoulder, rubbing lightly. 

“Any dizziness?” 

“No,” you say, coughing a bit. 

She clicks her light off. “Nausea or vomiting?” 

“No.” 

“Headache?” 

“No.” 

James cuts a look your way. “Sweetheart,” he says softly. 

“I did have a headache,” you amend, “but it went away.” 

“Chest pain?” 

“A little,” you admit. 

“Shortness of breath?” 

“I don’t…” You look to James, then feel stupid. It’s not like he knows. “I don’t think so?” 

“Coughing?” 

“Yes,” James says emphatically. 

The paramedic gives him a funny look, then asks you, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirm. A little cough works its way out of your lungs as if to prove it. 

James looks a bit chastised. He rubs your back, touch both firm and comforting. 

She gives you both a smile. “Come sit back here, please.” 

You follow her into the back of the ambulance, perching awkwardly on the gurney in the middle.

“It seems like you have relatively mild symptoms of smoke inhalation,” she tells you. Her partner passes her a mask, and she holds it over your face for a few seconds before letting you do it yourself. Her fingers press to your wrist. “Your eyes are irritated, but it’s a good sign that your headache went away already. There’s probably not much more we can do other than give you oxygen. Your other symptoms should ease on their own.” 

You nod your understanding, relieved even if you’d been the one saying you didn’t need any help. With James, it’s typically best if only one of you shows your worry at a time. And he’s plenty worried enough for both of you right now. 

You glance over at him, standing outside with his arms crossed. It’s doing crazy things to his biceps, and you think that usually he’d grin if he caught you checking him out like this but now he looks like he might start tapping his foot impatiently. You feel guilty for getting him in such a tizzy. 

The paramedic finishes with your pulse and follows your gaze. “That your boyfriend?” she asks. 

Your breath fogs the mask. “Mhm.” 

“He seems fairly rattled,” she notes. “I supposed it’s probably not typical to get called to a fire at your girlfriend’s place, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

You’d already been sitting out on the lawn when James’ crew had arrived, the fire already put out and your front door left open. Smoke rolled out of it in one thick, relentless wave. You still have no idea how a fire that couldn’t have been burning more than fifteen minutes had created so much. You suppose James could tell you if you asked him later. 

The others had run inside, but James had gone straight to you. His chief wanted to confirm with you that there was no one else in the home (there wasn’t) and that you’d gotten out quickly (you didn’t have a great answer for that one). Like pulling teeth, it came out that you’d fallen asleep with dinner in the oven, and it was only by coincidence that someone had called your phone and the ringing woke you up. You’d turned off the oven and dumped cupfuls of water on your flaming dinner until it went out, but the smoke had spread throughout your home and your neighbor had already called emergency services. 

This led to you having to admit you hadn’t replaced the batteries in your smoke detector, which had led to a fervent lecture from your boyfriend that you doubt you’ve heard the end of. It was only the arrival of the ambulance that had distracted him. 

The paramedic sitting next to you jerks her chin toward James. That’s all it takes to get his attention, since he’s watching you like you’re going to float away if he doesn’t keep a close eye on things. 

“You can come up here,” she tells him. 

James clambers up quickly, giving her a terse smile at half his usual wattage as she moves to let him take her place next to you. 

“Hey, angel.” He takes the mask from you, holding it to your face himself. His other hand slides down the inside of your forearm and interlocks its fingers with yours. “Is she okay?” he asks the paramedic you’d spoken to. 

“Her symptoms are minor,” she assures him. “I wanna keep her on oxygen for ten minutes or so before checking her levels, but she’ll be fine.” 

James nods in thanks, but his sigh ghosts over the shell of your ear when he leans his brow against the side of your head. The paramedics conveniently find other things to do, and you’re grateful for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly. 

“I think you should stay at my place tonight,” he says, matching your tone, “if that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh a little. It provokes your lungs, and a cough follows. 

James winces. Kisses your cheek softly. 

“Yeah,” you try again. “That sounds good, thank you.” 

“The next time you set foot in your place, I’m going with you and installing new smoke detectors.” 

Now you wince. “Fair enough.” 

“And I don’t think you should ever cook or nap again.” 

“That seems a bit far.” 

“I dunno, I think I’m being reasonable.” He kisses your cheek again, lingering this time. “I’d prefer to wrap you in some sort of fireproofed bubble wrap, but I think this is a compromise we can both live with, no?” 

You smile, and you can’t tell if your chest hurts because of your smokey lungs or the raw quality to James’ teasing, but it helps when he smiles back. 

“What if,” you say, “you cook, and I nap. Would that satisfy you?” 

He mulls this over for a second. “For now,” he decides. “I think I’d still like to work on fire-proofing some bubble wrap in the meantime, though.”

[screaminglygay]

Watermelon, sugar, high.

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you are not a big fan of collage parties, but maybe you´ll change your mind, when there´s an interesting person around.

warnings: stoner!wanda, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, swearing, bad flirting, making out while being high

word count: 2.6k

an: this fic is not meant to encourage people to use drugs!! i want to have a flirty chat with wanda and i also want her sweet lips on mine:)

"Hiii!" Your friend links hand with yours.

"Abolutely not." You shake your head.

"Come on! It will be fun." Your friend begs you to go with them to the usual Friday party.

"Drunk people grinding agaisnt eachother is not fun," you take look at them as you start heading out of the school.

"Oh my god! If you don´t want to grind on people, that´s fine, don´t do it," they roll their eyes at you, "but you have to come, please! Pretty please."

"I hate you." Now it´s your time to roll your eyes.

"You don´t, you love me and that´s why you´ll be ready at eight." You´re already done for today, so you take a nice walk back into your apartment.

It´s not like you hate parties, but you´re just socialy awkward and you don´t really see the point of drinking tons of alcohol, making out with a stranger and having a hangover the next day. Maybe you actually do hate parties.

With a resigned sigh, you settle on an outfit that feels comfortable yet still a bit stylish. Black on black. It's not perfect, but it will have to do. Glancing at the clock make you realize that your friend will be here soon to pick you up, expecting you to be ready. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. Maybe it doesn't matter what you wear—maybe it's just about showing up and enjoying yourself.

Enjoying yourself in a house full of alcohol, drugs, drunk and horny people. How can you enjoy yourself there? Oh god.

Your friend arrives right on time, honking the horn playfully to announce her presence. You grab your phone, keys and wallet and rush to her car.

Buckling up, you can't shake the anxiety gripping you. "I really hate parties," you admit with a sigh, meeting her gaze as she starts the engine.

She glances at you, empathy softening her expression. "I know you do," she acknowledges gently, her voice laced with understanding. "But tonight's going to be great. Just relax, enjoy the fun, and embrace your youth."

"Embrace your youth?" You roll your eyes. "I just never feel like I fit in."

"Trust me, once we get there, you'll see that no one cares, everyone is just in their little head, like you are." She smiles at you.

You fidget with your shirt, still hesitant. "What if I don't know anyone?" you ask, nerves creeping back in.

She reaches over, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "I'll be right by your side," she assures you, her reassurance grounding you.

And that was a lie.

"I´ll be back in a second," your friend said - and that was like a 40 minutes ago.

You glance around awkwardly, attempting to look engaged while secretly wishing for your friend to reappear. People bustle past, engaged in their own conversations and laughter, oblivious to your internal struggle.

A burst of laughter erupts nearby, drawing your attention momentarily. You force a smile, trying to appear approachable, but no one even looks at your direction. The music pounds in your ears, a constant reminder of the pulsating atmosphere you're trying to navigate alone.

"You look like you need some company," you hear raspy voice behind you and then you see a face, pretty face. Tall girl with long brown hair in a black skirt that falls to mid-thigh, paired with a dark gray long-sleeve shirt that drapes softly against her silhouette, her outfit complemented by a delicate necklace that adds a special touch to it all.

After you basically checked her up and down, you slightly shake your head, "not really, no." You sip from your drink that tastes like shit, "my friend just went to the bathroom."

"Are they okay? I mean being in the bathroom for," she looks at her phone, "over 30 minutes is a long time."

"How do you know that?!" You tilt your head as she leans closer to you.

"I know a lot of things, malysh. I also know that you need company or you gonna pass out from all the stuff that it´s happening in here, follow me." She offers you her hand.

"I´m not gonna follow a stranger somewhere… away from the crowd."

"I´m Wanda, you are?"

"(Y/N)."

"Now we´re not strangers," She takes your hand in her soft one. Oh her hands are nice. A sly smile as she leads you outside, on the roof to be specific. Suddenly the world goes quiet - yes, you still hear the music, but this feels way nicer and you breathe some fresh air.

"Better, (Y/N)?" Wanda smiles at you.

You nod, "yeah, a lot actually," you smile back at her.

Wanda nods, she walks further away from you, sitting on the edge of the roof, "this is my favorite spot."

"Oh, so this is your house?" You look around once more, then you go and join her.

Wanda nods, pulling a small bag with… weed. You look back at her.

"Shouldn't you be downstairs, enjoying your own party?" Your gaze drops to her hands, each adorned with unique silver rings that catch the light as she expertly crushes the dried herb in her grinder. With practiced finesse, she meticulously spreads the cannabis along the length of the rolling paper, ensuring an even distribution.

"My brother is enjoying that for the both of us," her fingers, nimble and fold the paper around the herb, creating a tight cylinder.

Once satisfied with the shape, she licks the edge of the paper, sealing it with a practiced flick of her tongue. And from her pocket she pulls out a black lighter. After few seconds the scent of cannabis permeates the air, blending with the distant bass thump of music from downstairs. She puts her lighter back into her pocket.

"So not a party person?" Your eyes are concentratates on her lips, she´s really beautiful.

Wanda exhales, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Parties can be… overwhelming," she admits. "I prefer quieter moments like this, where I can think and breathe."

You nod in agreement, "it's nice up here," you offer, glancing at her with a small smile. "Peaceful."

"Yeah," Wanda murmurs, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I come here a lot, away from the noise of the world."

As you both settle into a comfortable silence, you can´t help but glance at her time to time. The more you look at her, the more you find her beuatiful.

Wanda notices the way you´re basically staring at her, "would you like some?"

"Oh no, no, I- uh never had… that." You point to her blunt between her pretty fingers.

"Never?" Her smirk widens.

You shake your head at her question, "never."

"Wanna try it?" She take one more puff of the joint.

"I-" You want to try it. "I´m not sure." You manage to say.

Wanda smiles and nods, "Okay, no preasure here."

"No, I want to try it, I… I don´t know why I said I´m not sure…" your eyes went from Wanda to her fingers and then back up at her.

"Looks like you need to relax a bit." Your hand reaches for the blunt, but Wanda moves away, her fingers gracefully taking hold of it. Her touch is delicate yet firm as she brings the blunt to your lips, guiding it with a steady hand.

"Open, but don't inhale into your lungs," she instructs softly, her voice a soothing.

You follow her guidance, parting your lips as the tip of the blunt touches them. The smoke tickles your throat as you tentatively draw it in, but despite your efforts to follow Wanda's instructions, the unfamiliar sensation overwhelms you. The harshness of the smoke makes you cough.

"Oh god-" it feels like your insides are on fire.

"It´s okay," her other hand falls on your knee and softly rubs it up and down to sooth you, "let it all out."

After few deep breaths and few tears from your eyes, you finally speak, "that was… horrible."

Wanda chuckles, "the first time is always bad, unless you´re eating edibles."

"Can I try it again?" Your eyes meet Wanda´s ones, "please?" You add.

She smiles at your politeness and nods, bringing her hand back to your mouth, as you inhale a bit, you cough again. Her hand never left your knee, slowly running up and down to sooth you again.

"I don´t know what I though-" another absoutely horrible inhale, making you cought even more than the first try.

"It's okay," she reassures you, her voice calm and steady. "It takes time to get used to it. Just take it slow."

You nod, taking comfort in her words and the steadying touch of her hand. With each attempt, you feel a bit more at ease. Despite the coughing and the burning sensation in your throat, there's a strange comfort in sharing this moment with Wanda, her presence grounding you amidst the new experience.

"You're doing great," Wanda encourages, her smile warm and genuine. "It gets easier, I promise. And I think that for the first time, few puffs will be just enough for you." She chuckles.

Her encouragement fuels your determination, and you take another small puff, this time managing to hold it in for a moment before exhaling. The smoke swirls around you, mingling with the cool night air.

"See? Getting better already," Wanda praises, her hand still gently caressing your knee. The warmth of her touch feels so good.

You hum. "What's supposed to happen after smoking weed?" you ask, curiosity mingling with uncertainty.

Wanda smiles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, it varies from person to person, but usually, you start to feel more relaxed, maybe a bit giggly or nostalgic. It's different for everyone."

You nod, processing her words as the minutes tick by. Slowly, a warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body. Your mind begins to feel lighter, the edges of your thoughts softening into a pleasant haze. The world around you seems to take on a softer, more vibrant hue.

After some minutes of silence, Wanda notices the look on your face. "How are you feeling?"

You take a moment to consider, a small smile creeping onto your lips. "I feel… good. Warm. Like everything's a little more… interesting," you say.

Wanda's smile widens, and she nods in understanding. "That's the idea. It's all about letting go and enjoying the moment."

As you sit there, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything and nothing—your favorite books, funny memories from childhood, and even some old cartoons you used to watch as a kid. Wanda listens intently, her laughter ringing out occasionally, filling the rooftop with a joyful sound.

At one point, you find yourself marveling at the stars above, their brilliance more vivid than ever. "Do you think there's life out there?" you ask, your voice dreamy and reflective.

Wanda tilts her head, considering the question. "I think the universe is too vast for us to be the only ones. It's kind of comforting, in a way, to think we're part of something much bigger."

You nod, feeling a profound sense of connection to the universe and to Wanda next you.

"You're really good at this," you say suddenly, looking at her with wide, appreciative eyes.

Wanda chuckles softly. "At what?"

"At making me feel… like it's okay to just be," you reply, your voice sincere.

Wanda's expression softens, and she reaches out to gently squeeze you thigh. "Happy to be at your service," she says simply.

You find yourself staring at Wanda, unable to tear your eyes away from her. The way her lips curve into a gentle smile, the way her eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and understanding—it's all captivating. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in sharp focus.

Wow… why didn´t you come to the party before? It´s just so… fascinating.

Wanda notices your intense gaze and smiles knowingly. "You're adorable when you're high, you know that?" she says, her voice low and teasing.

You blush, but you can't look away. "Am I?" you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the weed.

Wanda leans in a bit closer, her eyes locked onto yours. "Absolutely. You have this… innocent charm. It's really endearing."

You giggle nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You're not so bad yourself."

Wanda's grin widens. "Oh? What do you like about me?" she asks, her tone playful and flirty.

You bite your lip, feeling a surge of boldness. "You´re beautiful. So beautiful that I want to kiss you."

Wanda's eyes darken with interest, and she leans in closer, her lips just a breath away from yours. "Well, who am I to deny a request like that?" she whispers.

Before you can respond, Wanda's lips brush against yours, soft and tentative. The kiss is gentle at first, a sweet exploration. Your heart races, and you find yourself leaning into her, deepening the kiss. Wanda's hand slides up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin.

As you kiss, Wanda's other hand rests on your thig. "You taste sweet," she murmurs, her voice husky.

"And you taste like… heaven," you reply, feeling a little dazed but incredibly happy.

Wanda laugh at your words, finding it absolutely adorable how high you are, her eyes sparkling. "Heaven, huh? I like that."

The weed might be helping, but you truly feel like you´re in "heaven", you nodd.

"I think I'd prefer us both to be sober for the rest," she whispers, her eyes looking into yours. "How about we continue this on a proper date?"

You nod, your heart fluttering with excitement. "I'd like that," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's smile widens, and she presses a quick, soft kiss to your forehead. "It's a date, then," she says, her tone filled with promise. There is a comfort silence, until she speaks again. "So, I guess I should ask for your phone number," she says, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

You giggle, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Yeah, that would be a good idea," you reply, reaching into your pocket for your phone. Your hands are a bit shaky, but you manage to unlock it and hand it over to Wanda.

She types in her number, then hands your phone back to you. "There you go," she says, her smile warm and genuine. "Now we can plan our date."

You grin, calling her so she has your number as well. "I can't wait."

Just then, you hear your friend's voice calling your name from below. "(Y/N)! Are you up there?" she shouts, her tone a mix of concern and impatience.

You sigh, glancing at Wanda. "Looks like my friend is looking for me."

Wanda nods, her expression understanding. "Looks like we have to say our goodbyes," for the first time you can see Wanda´s smile dissapearing. "But tonight was fun. I'm really glad we met."

"Me too," you say, standing up and brushing off your clothes. As you move toward the door, your friend appears, her face a mix of relief and exasperation.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you," she says, crossing her arms. "It's late. We should get going."

"Here I am." You smile proudly.

"Goodnight, Wanda," you say softly.

Wanda smiles, her eyes warm and full of promise. "Goodnight. I'll text you soon," she winks.

As you and your friend walks back down, even at your state you can feel them staring, "we should party more often, it´s fun. Very fun." You mumble looking at her.

They look at you with suprise. "What made you change your mind? Your new friend?"

"Just the vibe is great and you know… it´s all about the vibes. And mostly pretty girls. Pretty girl." You smile to yourself thinking about Wanda again.

Your friend looks at you and it finally clicks, "oh my god, are you high?"

Thank you for reading, I had so much fun writing this hehe:)

[timewillpasssoon]

hiii can you write a joost x female reader angst? they argue, he yells/says some mean stuff but it ends in fluff? 🫶

HOW COULD YOU?

pairing . Joost Klein x fem!reader

content . angst, the dutch in this is from google translate so if its bad lmk, mentions of yelling, insults, stress, alcohol, eurovision disqualification, fluff at the end

summary . when joost urges you to leave the house on a cold night, he starts to regret not opening up to you in the first place.

word count . 1.2k words , 6.5k characters

author's note . quick question, are y'all interested in nsfw? just wondering, if so send some ask.

You and Joost stood in the middle of the living room, tension crackling in the air, geting thicker and thicker as time passes by. His words cut through you like a knife, each one sharper than the last. For the past hour you've been trying to get Joost to eat and open up.. He would turn away and say he's not hungry. He'll say he's not hurting. He lies through his teeth, he was hungry and in pain, desperate need of help. So why doesn't he want it You? You tried to get him to open up to you, but you just couldn't. Everytime an attempt was made, he would slightly raise his voice.

Then finally, he yelled, his voice rising in frustration. Your eyes welled up with tears as you tried to hold back your own anger. "I'm your girlfriend, liefde! I'm here when you need someone to lean on!" You wanted to scream it out, yet it came out as a whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. He scoffed, his anger still beneath the surface.

"Well I don't need you! I am perfectly fine, there is nothing we need to talk about!"

"Can you atleast eat!?"

"For crying out loud I'm not hungry! Just stop being such a bitch."

The argument escalated, each word a dagger aimed at your heart. Joost's voice echoed off the walls, the last word hanging on your brain.

"You just don't get it, do you?" You looked at him in the eyes, rage and empathy were the only two things you could feel. "You clearly are in pain because of the disqualification! Just talk to me- we've been dating for 2 years, for crying out loud! Yet you still can't tell me your problems? Wat een man ben jij." (What a man you are.)

"You can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not!" Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to find what words to say.

"I thought we could work through this together." You uttered out, your voice trembling. Joost shook his head. "I don't know if we can," he admitted. He looked down, slowly then turning to the front door. "You should go."

You shake your head, words can't come out your mouth. Your tongue is tied together and you don't know if you can untie it. "Joost- please."

"I said get out. Ik wil je niet zien." (I don't want to see you.)

Your heart was throbbing so fast it felt louder than him,.Joost is staring at the front door then turns to you, red puffy eyes with baby tears coming out from both eyes. His blonde hair was a mess. It was covering most of his eyes but you can still see the pain in them.

"Prima." (Fine.) You take big steps yet they feel like your still miles away from your destination. You go to open the front door, "I hope you come to your senses."

Those were the last words he heard from you. Before you walked out. It's been two hours since you left his house...

and frankly, he's scared. He kicked you out in the middle of the night. It was eight pm when he demanded you to leave and with each second goes by, its past ten.

He calls you, he leaves voicemails, texts messages.

Still nothing. Checked social media and there was still nada.

God he felt awful, the worst boyfriend in the world. All of this happened because he didn't want to cry in your arms. He really did want to let loose, reveal that everything is not okay.

Yet he couldn't.

He didn't want to burden you with his problems anymore. Joost felt like he had too much baggage no one wanted to hear. He thought that everyone wants his happy-go-lucky side. You jusy wanted his true self. The Joost that is willing to tell you his feelings.

He decided to call one of your friends that happened to live by the neighborhood.

"Hello?"

"Is reader with you?"

The other line was quite crispy, Joost can hear a tv in the background, sounded like laughter in the back, maybe a comedy.

"No, why? Is everything alright?"

Joost sighed, fidgeting with a stand of hair. "No, me and her got into a fight and I made her leave- I haven't heard from her!" He exclaimed.

"Woah, woah, deep breaths." The friend on the line said, "Don't you have her location? Check if she's near the area, I'll stay on the line while you do that."

Joost quickly checked his phone to see if you turned off your location. You didn't, you forgot to. "She's in the nearest bar!" The friend hummed. "Go to her, she only drinks when she's stressed the hell out."

"Thank you so much," Joost happened to be crying again, quickly grabbing his keys and jacket. "No problem, get get her." The friend hung up on him as he raced to your location, being around eight minutes away if he ran the whole way.

He bolted as fast as he could, petrified about your safety. Where if you're black out drunk or not.

Pacing to the bar, precious seconds going by, he finally made it. it was one of the least popular bars near so there wasn't any hassle to get in. As he walked inside, he saw a women with the same color hair as you. Your head down on the table with around two shot glasses, there was three more earlier, the bartender just took them.

He sped-walked towards you, careful and still just incase you were still mad at him. He tapped you on your shoulder, but you didn't raise your head up.

"Ik heb een vriendje." (I have a boyfriend.) Was all you said. "I know." Joost calmly answered, his accent triggered you to lift your head up.

"Joost?" He nodded as he sat down next to you, his hand reaching for yours. You didn't push away his hand, as much as you wanted to, you knew he was in pain.

"Why are you here?" You softly say. You'll like to say you ignored him but you couldn't. You were certainly mad at him, but he had his reasons of sheltering himself away. So you listened instead of scolding.

"Reader, I'm so sorry- I didn't want to bother you with my problems. I feel like I just have too much going on for you to care." You felt destroyed at the thought of Joost think you don't care for him. Joost was rubbing circles on your palms.

He continued, "Can we go home, I would rather we talk there."

You smile at the chance of him opening up. You immediately say yes, standing up to leave. All your drinks were already paid for.

As the quiet, yet comfortable, walk back home he held you tight. Clinging onto your left arm for dear life. He still felt guilty for leaving you.

All alone in the streets. You told him it wasn't a big deal, that you could protect yourself. Yet the feeling guilt was still there, on his tongue. The taste was horrid.

Joost unlocked the door, letting you step inside first before closing the door behind him. That's where you engulfed him in a huge hug. Tears coming back for the fourth time.

That night ended with a deep conversation, with cuddles on the couch along with some ice cream half way eaten.

"I appreciate you having the courage to tell me all this."

You muttered your sentence out, about to knock out cold, your body longed for sleep but you kept awake for a bit while.

"I should thank you."

He smiled, tugging you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath breezing though the right side of your neck.

The warmth of each other's bodies made you two warm. You still weren't ready to give up on him.

You'll never give up on him.

LETSGOO FINISHED THIS IN 3 HOURS!! part 2 of let me think... is in the works don't worry, i have two other requests on the way as well.

im okay with nsfw requests, even if its a bit spicy or all the way. check out my other account!!

[luveline]

hiii could I please request miguel walking in on reader crying in secret?? ty!! :)))

thank you for requesting! fem!reader, 1.2k

It takes Miguel half an hour to fix your spider suit, but when he picks his head up from his work desk with a brag waiting on his lips, you aren’t there. He hadn’t noticed you slinking away. Perhaps he should’ve, given his fantastic sixth sense and his habit of awarding you special attention, just you’re quiet when you want to be. 

He sends you a short message through his wristwatch. Where are you? delivered 7:58PM. 

No response. Miguel folds your suit into a square and holds it under his arm, flicking off his workbench light as he rolls his neck from one side to the other. He wanted to finish the repairs before nightfall so as not to disrupt your routine. He quite likes your routine together. In a stressful life, time spent with you is peace he doesn’t deserve. You aren’t a peaceful girl, of course, you’re his idiot, but he knows the stark difference of having you versus not having you. 

He can’t track you without your suit on and your watch he’d found in the laboratory (you should not be taking it off), but he can ping your phone. 

You’re in the building still, at least. 

He texts you. Where did you go? I fixed your suit. It’s dinner time soon. 

Loosely translated, it means, Why did you leave? We always eat dinner together. 

Miguel sighs and decides to check the most obvious places first. The alcove of the hallway leading to the laboratory where you like to hide, the arts lounge, the atrium where your friends hang out, and the outdoor area right at the surface of the society. By 8:30PM he’s agitated wondering where you’ve gone, because he should probably know, but he’s not a great boyfriend and you’re not always as honest as you claim. You could be anywhere. You could be with someone nicer. 

He’s pissed. With no choice but to admit defeat, he decides he’ll head up to bed (he’s not going to bed, he’s gonna find you, because you can go wherever you like whenever you like but it’s been a long time since you disappeared without telling him). He cares about you too much, even if he wishes sometimes he didn’t. Not because of you. 

He sulks into the apartment (his apartment, your apartment, you were never supposed to live with him but here you tend to stay), throwing his phone and command pod onto the made sheets of the bed. 

The shower drips in the bathroom. He can hear the plink of water dripping onto the floor, a slow, dysrhythmic pattering. Two seconds, a drop. Three seconds, your breathing. 

He startles. You’re shuddering, a sharp inhalation, that strange sound you make when you’re overwhelmed without being smothered by his shoulder. “Stop,” you say under your breath. Another harsh breath, and a pained whine to follow. 

Miguel has never crossed a room so quickly. For a moment he thinks there must be someone else there, not a fully realised theory but an instinct —you’re telling someone else to stop, because someone is hurting you, because you aren’t alone. But he can hear only your heart, and your breath. So he stops cold by the door without bursting in and forces himself to knock. 

“Mi cielo?” he asks, aiming for tenderness, roughness seeping through. He knocks the door. “I’m coming in, okay?” 

Miguel doesn’t realise the door is locked until he’s cracked the doorframe. 

You stare at him in shock. Tears fall fast but quiet down your cheeks, thick streams of them, the kind to accompany gutted sobbing. 

“What’s wrong?” he says, his chest falling. “What’s wrong? Y/N, tell me. Tell me,” he prompts, secretly terrified at your tears and your quiet. He sounds demanding instead. 

“I’m fine,” you say.

“No you’re not.” He speaks before you can deny it again, not sure what to make of your teary voice or the way you’re smiling; trying to hide. 

“It’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, mi cielo,” —he takes your hand if only to be touching you— “you're crying.” 

“You weren’t supposed to see,” you say, closing your eyes. 

Tears squeeze their way out unbidden. Miguel reaches to his right for the toilet paper and pulls off a few sheets, bundling them in his palm. Careful, hesitant, he brings the corner to your face and begins to dry your tears from your cheeks, your chin, the wet line running down to your t-shirt and then back to your eyes. He shushes you as you shudder, “Shh, lovely. Everything will be fine. Everything… Todo va a estar bien.” 

“It’s fine,” you whisper tightly. 

“It’s fine,” he echoes, much more kindly, though he’s no closer to understanding why you’d locked yourself away to cry so intensely. “Tell me what’s wrong, yes? You tell me what’s upset you.” 

“It’s nothing–”

You try to persuade him but end up sounding even more upset than you had, shaking your head from his touch, receding backward toward the sink. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he asks gently. 

“It’s so stupid, Miguel, you weren’t supposed to know.” 

He’d say it was unlike you to be secretive with your feelings. You love loudly, tease louder. You’re spirited and petulant when you feel like it and you’re constantly barraging him with cheerfulness he doesn’t deserve, so why doesn’t your unwillingness to share this with him surprise him? 

“But I know now,” he says, bending to be your height, to meet your tired eyes, “and I want to know what’s wrong so I can make you feel better. Can you let me do that?” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

Miguel can only handle so much. He uses some of his added strength to wrap you up in a full body hug, your toes struggling to stay on tiptoes and then completely off the ground as he leans back under your weight. “I know,” he says, though he hadn’t, “it’s okay, cariño, I’m here. I’m gonna take care of you.” 

You’re all softness in your off-duty clothes. The rolled neck of a worn t-shirt, your naked arm curling behind his neck and your thighs to his. He doesn’t keep you up for more than a few seconds, just enough to take your weight and hopefully save you the energy it’s taking to stay upright. You sag against him as your socks touch down again. He’s the one thing keeping you standing, and he doesn’t mind. You should know that already. 

“Please,” he says emphatically, “don’t cry by yourself. You have to let me know.” 

“Sorry.” 

He moves his head from one side to another slowly, his nose rubbing along your hairline. “Don’t be sorry. But if I don’t know, how am I supposed to fix it for you?” 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

“Are you kidding?” He encourages your head back tenderly to meet your eyes. “That’s what we do, hmm? What do you think?” 

You smile. Still sad, still watery-eyed, but a real smile. “Yeah.” 

“Alright. Let’s go sit down, okay? I’ll get you a drink.” 

“So weird,” you murmur. 

“I’m weird?” 

“You’re being really nice to me.” 

Miguel squeezes your arm. “Don’t get used to it, Spider-Girl.” 

[icaruspendragon]

hiii, this might be weird, but who is Lazarus? I'm not religious, so I've tried searching for who he is, but I can't seem to get a clear answer and was wondering if you could explain him?

ah yes, lazarus of bethany. a man i consider to be equal parts friend and foe.

lazarus lived in bethany with his two sisters, mary and martha. and when we meet him, he’s sick. so much so that his sisters send for jesus of nazareth saying, “lord, your dear friend is very sick.”

jesus of nazareth was in jerusalem when he received the message. and despite being only a few miles from bethany, and despite jesus loving martha and mary and lazarus, he waited. he didn’t go to them straight away. he waited. he waited until lazarus died and then said, “lazarus’ sickness will not end in death. no, it happened for the glory of god so that the son of god will receive glory from this.”  

and when jesus finally made it to bethany he was told lazarus had already died. that he has already been in the grave for four days. and when martha, sister of lazarus got word that jesus was coming, she went to meet him. and mary, sister of lazarus did not. and when martha saw jesus she said to him, “lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

and jesus said to her, “your brother will rise again.”

but then mary arrived and she saw jesus and she fell at his feet and she said, “lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” and she wept over her brother. because she loved him and he was gone. and jesus should have been there. because if jesus had been there, her brother would not have died.

and jesus saw her weeping. and he saw the other people wailing with her. because lazarus was deeply loved. and now he was gone. and they had sent for jesus. they had prayed for a miracle. and that miracle didn’t come until it was four days too late. and they didn’t know that jesus was going to bring lazarus back. they didn’t know that jesus had waited that long to teach a lesson. to prove a point. they just knew jesus was too late. and now they were forced to grieve.

and then a deep anger welled up in jesus. and he was deeply troubled. and jesus asks, “where have you put him?” and the people say, “lord, come and see.” and he does. and when he sees, jesus weeps. when he sees, we get the shortest verse in the bible. a mere two words to sum up an entire town’s grief. two words to convey the loss of a sibling. two words are offered for the preventable death of a loved man.

jesus is four days too late. and jesus?

jesus wept.

and the people who loved lazarus turned to him and said to jesus, “see how much he loved him!”

jesus loved lazarus. and then he let him die.

and some of the people said about jesus “this man healed a blind man. couldn’t he have kept lazarus from dying?”

and then jesus, who knew all along that he would revive lazarus. jesus, who let all those people mourn. jesus, who let those sisters lose their brother. jesus, who let them weep. jesus, who wept with them. that very same jesus said to those who loved lazarus, who mourned him, jesus of nazareth said to them, “didn’t i tell you that you would see god’s glory if you believe?”

and then the stone of lazarus’ tomb was rolled aside. and then jesus looked up to heaven and said, “father, thank you for hearing me. you always hear me, but i said it out loud for the sake of all these people standing here, so that they will believe you sent me.” and then jesus shouted, “lazarus, come out!” and he did.

lazarus the dead man came out, his hands and feet and face wrapped still in burial cloth. and then jesus of nazareth told them, “unwrap him and let him go!”

and then lazarus of bethany became lazarus of the grave. lazarus of the grave that will never be left behind even though he has risen and relinquished. lazarus of the grave who did not make good his escape unscathed. lazarus of the grave who will now check each darkened doorway as death and his sting is keenly felt.

lazarus was a man. a man whose family loved him. a man whose sisters sent for a miracle. a man whose sisters mourned him in the four days it took for that miracle to show up. a man who was made an example for no reason other than being loved by jesus. a thing that we are all told to be. loved by our savior.

lazarus is a man who makes me wonder three things. firstly, if jesus had been there that my brother may not have died. secondly, if jesus of nazareth too weeps for me. and thirdly, if jesus loves us and we in turn love him too like the scriptures command, why does he use us in the lessons he teaches.

why must we be the men he makes believers of?

so lazarus was just a man whose crime was loving jesus. and martha was just a girl whose crime was loving her brother. and they both suffered a miracle because of it.

[glitter-epoch]

Hiii, always love to see people obsessing over love and deepspace (bc I'm addicted too), can I please request zayne fic about his hands and fingers? Can be suggestive, can be pure smut, up to you lol, ok thanks byee

HIII yes i can!!! i can't believe my first request is a zayne's hands request this feels like a gift. thank you for requesting i hope you like!!!

[ there’s a part 2 now :) ] ☄. *. ⋆ gn! reader | 2.8k words | suggestive, not smut | zayne gives reader stitches but it's deliberately not described in detail/no mentions of needles/blood

“my lunch break ends in fifteen minutes,” zayne had said, staring past your head in thought. “it would be a waste of time to check you in.” 

you stood there in the bustling lobby of akso hospital, one paper-towel-bound hand pressed to the sliced skin over your hipbone, and waited. surely he wasn’t telling you to just leave. you were only friends, so it’s not like he had an obligation to you; but he was your primary care doctor, and...

and. there was, is, an and. you’re not sure what exactly to call it, and zayne is so adonis-like you’re embarrassed to even suggest he might like you.  

“i’m sorry,” you said in earnest, a little surprised by his usual coldness that you’d arrogantly assumed would thaw upon seeing your injury. “i didn’t mean for you to drop everything for me. i should have gone to an urgent care, or something, i just thought since you’re here...” 

zayne looked down from the spot over your head, clearly removed from his pensive mood. his intention to argue with you was clear, but he held his tongue stonily until you finished your rambling. 

“no,” he replied. “you should never go to another doctor. i was just thinking.” 

you blushed like an idiot. “ever?” you mocked. 

“mm,” he murmured, back to thinking again. he brought his forearm to circle the small of your back, not touching, and motioned you forward. “come with me.” 

and now, here you are: sitting on the grey sofa in front of the wall-length window, early afternoon light bleeding white all over zayne’s office. for a few moments, he’s left you alone to gather materials, and you relish in what feels like a small victory. 

i’ve been personally invited to the office.  

not like it’s the first time, though.  

zayne returns with a small kit swallowed by the size of his pale hands; the sleeves of his button-down pinned up to his elbows. you shift, balancing your weight unnaturally on one leg. His eyes snag on you as he grabs his glasses from his desk (far taller than the tabletop, he must lean down to grab those, too). 

“lay down,” zayne commands.  

you blink, glancing around to try to figure out the most convenient position to get into for him to work. by the time he’s come over and sat down on the glass table in front of you, you’re still sitting up. 

“you can put your head on the armrest and your feet that way,” he nods, not a hint of impatience in his deep voice. “i can see you squirming. when you sit up like you are, you’re putting pressure on the wound. it must hurt.” 

“i haven’t even shown you the wound,” you retort, not sure why you’re arguing so much- and swallowing a wince as you turn to prop your head up on the side of the sofa.  

“i see your handywork,” zayne replies. he pulls on a pair of blue latex gloves and they snap quietly against his wrists. he’s clearly careful not to let the noise be too loud. “hm.” 

you frown in place of a (shameful) gulp at the sight of the gloves hugging his hands.  

“is this bad?” you ask. “i’m sorry. i tried not to mess with it too much.” 

zayne pieces through the small kit on the table beside him. even his rummaging is succinct; long fingers deftly parsing through the stack of metal utensils inside. he comes up with two sets of narrow pliers and a cotton round.  

he passes the pliers through his fingers like pencils, balancing them between his knuckles, and pours a solvent that looks like lens cleaner onto the cotton pad. 

“not bad,” he says, eyes on the pliers as he polishes them. “the paper towel is fine. but you got it wet beforehand.” 

“and that’s bad?” 

“you’ll be alright,” he murmurs- or maybe he always sounds like that- and discards the cotton round. the corners of his lips just barely curl. “you won’t die, i suppose.” 

“well, i’d hope not. it’s just a cut.” 

“and what did you do this time?” zayne demands softly, fishing in the kit for what you now realize will be sutures.  

“i had an assignment with xavier and failed to climb a fence.” 

“you impaled yourself, then,” he remarks coldly. “and xavier.” 

he sets a roll of sterile surgical threads on a wider cotton pad and turns his eyes to your midriff, which is still mostly covered by your shirt; wound hiding beneath it.  

“xavier, yeah,” you inhale deeply, mentally preparing for the stitches. “my partner. i’ve mentioned him, i think.” 

“yes, you have,” zayne says. his voice is strained. then he inhales, a whole breath through his nose, mouth closed in stoic secrecy; and nods to your hips. “lift your shirt, please.” 

you’re grateful that he’s given you a task and you don’t have to look him in his eyes after that tiny display of disdain (for your partner? for your hips? hopefully the former?). But as you lift your shirt, the paper towel comes loose. 

“ouch,” you hiss. 

you realize you’re probably stressing him out.  

“it’s not bad,” you add, uncharacteristically hoarse. 

“it’s not,” zayne agrees softly, eyeing the wound with his usual cold stare. his eyes refuse to flicker above or below the cut, which rests just over the shallow ridge of your hipbone, right above the line of your trousers. “but it hurts, i'm sure.” 

you nod. “sure.” 

“sure,” he repeats, almost as if to mock you, almost as if he’s just making sure he heard you right.  

zayne busies himself preparing a cotton round of saline, and in the middle of this, says, 

“you’ll have to unbutton your pants. can you fold the waistband over?” 

your neck is suddenly clammy. “oh. yeah, sure.” 

“if you can’t fold them down far enough, you’ll have to take them off.” 

your eyes blow out like glass. 

zayne, whom you suspected might have been deliberately extending the length of his cotton-round-preparing, is surprisingly the one to smile first. almost wickedly. “i would get you a cover, of course.” 

“oh, how nice of you.” 

he laughs barely, an exhale from his nose. you unbutton your trousers, fabric shifting against metal.  

he inhales at the sound. 

the blue latex over his knuckles catches light from the windows. you watch moments later as he threads the sutures, fascinated by how efficient his hands are. they’re longer than they are wide, and slender, not bear-like; but big nonetheless. and yet his fingers move like knitting needles, never missing a beat, never shaking. “would you like to do it yourself?” zayne asks suddenly. 

his voice is like a hum, always vibrating in his chest. 

you bristle. “god, no.” 

“then why are you staring?”  

you’re hoping he won’t finish on that very word, but he does, and he looks at you with his usual resolve of steel. you decide that no answer is the only good answer, and instead say, 

“okay. good luck. don’t mess up, please.” 

he chuckles and leans over you, the breadth of his sharp shoulders blocking the sun. “i never mess up.”   

the words ‘mess’ and ‘up,’ are foreign on his tongue, like he’d never refer to a mistake so casually, like he’s never made one in his life. he probably hasn’t, you think. 

zayne lifts up the cotton round, which is practically the size of a pea in his hand. “i’m going to clean around it. the solution may sting, but not much. it will be over fast.” 

you nod. “sure.” 

he chuckles again. “sure,” he hums, and then, before he presses down, “here.” 

he swipes the cotton round over your hipbone, startlingly light. goosebumps rise instantly on your flesh. his fingers are icy, even through the gloves; they radiate cold like a lamp radiates heat.  

zayne is kind enough not to mention your instant squirming and moves quickly to start the sutures. 

“this will be fast, too,” he says, looking unwaveringly into your eyes. like he’s trying to will the fear out of you. “not as fast as that, but faster than you’d imagine.” 

you nod. “sure.” 

“there it is again,” he smiles. “sure.” 

you grin incredulously. “i don’t know what else to say. you’re about to stab me.” 

his smile is thin and almost prideful as he grabs his glasses and slips them on. he leans over your hips, then looks up at you; pushing them up the bridge of his nose. 

“aren’t you glad it’s me, at least, and not some stranger?” 

you’re busy inhaling and exhaling like a horse, trying to calm down. “i am glad it’s you, yes.” 

your desperation throws him and his jaw sets like a stone, adam’s-apple bobbing.  

“alright,” zayne says, nearly whispering. “now.” 

he begins the sutures. you gasp, instantly, at first through your nose and then through your mouth; which pops open unwittingly. it’s nearly a whine. 

“i know,” zayne murmurs, leaning back a tiny bit as he works; so his face is visible to you. “i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay.” 

you bite down hard and screw your eyes shut, but all you do is flinch each time his fingers move. he stops almost instantaneously, like pulling the plug on a treadmill. 

“look at me,” zayne says, deep voice rumbling against your thigh.  

you peel one eye open and then the other. 

“i know it hurts,” he says gently. “but you can’t move. i could seriously hurt you.” 

“sorry, sorry,” you nod. “i know.” 

the pools of his eyes are clear. he’s resolute in his instructions as he speaks, every word confident. 

“breathe the entire time, through every suture. i can work while your stomach moves; i can’t work if you’re flinching away.” 

“okay.” 

his brows lift. “okay?” 

again, you nod. “okay. i’m sorry.” 

“no apologies,” zayne says. 

he presses his hand flat to the side of your belly that’s unharmed, the tips of his long fingers just barely curling around the slope of your waist. you inhale slowly at that, blinking rapidly. his hand is cool as glass.  

you panic, as if he can somehow feel the coil that winds up in your stomach; watching his fingers splayed across your navel.  

“i’m going to try again,” he says. you can feel the words all the way down to his fingertips. then his thumb moves, caressing the skin just over your waistband. “breathe.” 

well, i can’t now. 

“got it,” you grind out. 

“good,” zayne hums. “three, two, one...” 

and it starts again. you bite down, tongue taut to the roof of your mouth. 

“don’t,” zayne warns, stern as ever, but his fingers keep working. “breathe. i can see whether you’re doing it.” 

the coil in your stomach tightens. you peel your eyes open and watch him work, knuckles grazing over the soft, thin flesh that’s been revealed from behind the waistband of your trousers.  

his eyes flash away from your navel as you start to watch. moments later, you’re stunned to see how laser-focused he is, pupils never moving from your cut.  

“do you ever get nervous doing this?” you ask, apt to make the time pass faster by talking. like your mouth isn’t wet just watching him do his job. “are you nervous?” 

“no.” his reply is instant. “i’ve done this hundreds of times.” 

you’re stunned. “i would be nervous.” 

“you are nervous,” zayne murmurs. “close your eyes.” 

the ball of his wrist presses into the juncture of your hipbone.  

“no,” you gasp. too fast. 

zayne’s fingers slow, utensils suspended. he looks up at you, somehow feeling taller still. “no?” 

you shake your head. “i-i don’t like not knowing what you’re going to do next.” 

oh, sure.  

he’s stopped working at this point, watching you like a hawk. “then i’ll tell you what i’m going to do before i do it.” 

“that’s okay,” you exhale. i’m dying. 

zayne’s eyes rove over yours, not unkind, but uncaring about how visible his assessment of you is. clinical, even still. the corners of his lips curl up.  

you’re not sure how it’s possible for your stomach to drop while laying flat on your back, but it does; your ears hot as irons.  

he goes back to work without another word. you’re so embarrassed, you finally shut your eyes and let your head weigh on the armrest until he’s done. 

“alright,” zayne says. “that’s it. don’t move.” 

you keep your eyes shut, nodding. “i really can’t thank you enough, i-” 

“watch.” 

for a moment, you lay there. then you open your eyes, peering down at him, too uncertain to be shocked yet. “what?” 

zayne takes his small kit from the table and places it on your lap. you startle, blink, as he sifts through the contents of it. gloves still on.  

“this is another cleanser,” he hums, his voice uncharacteristically musical. “i’m going to clean around the sutures.” 

you stare incredulously at him. “...okay.” 

he’s not fooled by your aloofness. zayne’s right hand works slow circles with a cotton round around your cut; the other comes down flat to keep the waistband of your trousers from getting in his way. both are cold to the touch; never quite warming.  

your jaws come apart and you barely manage to stop your mouth from falling open as discards the cotton round and takes the corner of your waistband into his hand. 

he buttons your trousers; pulls the zipper up. 

you watch like a fool. then, when he’s done, and you think you’ll have to admit to what you’re thinking, he furrows his brows at your face.  

“did you cut yourself here, too?” he murmurs. 

“where?” you croak. 

zayne shakes his head and slowly peels off the gloves; letting them slide slowly off his fingers. “mm. here.” 

he reaches forward and spreads fingers to cup your temples. one thumb glides over your browbone, low enough that you can see it; four or five times before removing his kit from your hips and leaning back.  

you exhale harshly and move to sit up, wondering if you’ll be able to somehow flee the office without another word. 

“not yet,” zayne says. “lay back again. you don’t have to put your head back; just lean back.” 

and you do it, instantly, because...well, because.  

zayne pulls a rectangular gauze pad with an adhesive border from the small kit. then he leans forward- he'd be positioned between your legs, if you opened them- and pulls your shirt up once more. 

as he presses the bandage over your sutured wound, it seems like even he can’t look at you. but his usually statuesque expression is lifted with amusement, plus something more sinister.  

“you like to watch me work,” he hums. 

his fingers dip under your waistband to smooth the bandage over. 

“shut up,” you bite. 

he leans back and watches you with no further offerings- words or otherwise medically dubious practices- and looks quite pleased. his breath is ragged, though; chest lifting and caving. 

“thank you,” you exhale. your tongue darts out over your lips.  

his pupils are swollen. “sure.” 

you grin, caught off guard by the joke. it sounds ridiculous in his voice.  

“my break will be ending,” zayne says, stony as ever once again as he walks to his desk.  

you stand, smoothing your hair down like something far more scandalous just occurred than stitches. 

“what do i owe you?” you ask. this earns a genuine, icy glare. 

“nothing,” zayne replies, pulling on his white jacket and grabbing his things. “but go to the front desk before you leave. i’m going to call in a prescription ointment for you.” 

you blink at him, thrice. a little dizzy. “oh, wow. thank you.” 

as zayne strides to the door, you think he might genuinely leave you there without another word. but he takes the door handle, and, almost shy, turns over his shoulder and says, 

“i’d like to stay with you, but i can’t. i’ll be working until dinner.” 

“no, no,” you rush, stepping to meet him at the door. “i’m fine. thank you so much, for doing this. i was just thinking.” 

he still can’t look at you, but at that; zayne grins. 

“i’ll call you when i get home,” he says. then, “is that okay?” 

you swallow. “of course.” 

“i want to know how the sutures feel in a couple of hours,” he adds. 

“oh, sure,” you tease. 

his eyes darken, like darts. you’re almost afraid.  

zayne opens the door for you and waits for you to pass by, eyes full of mirth as he looks down at you. “i’m glad i could be of service.” 

he raps his fingers on a clipboard until you look away. you blush feverishly all the way down the hall at how he says ‘service.’ 

☄. *. ⋆

this is not how you do stitches nor how you sterilize utensils. anyways FIRST POST. lol. anon if you or anyone else wants a part 2 of this (nsfw) i wiiiiiill do it lmk

[httpiastri]

hiii! i would like a ❣️ but with voicemails from the drivers hinting that they like you? we have mostly the same favorite drivers so just write for whoever you think would be good 😌

❣️ – send me a prompt and one/a few drivers and i'll tell you how i think they would react!!

(featuring: lando, charles, alex, oscar, ollie, paul, arthur, pepe and clem)

lando norris

"i think you should come visit me in monaco more. you know that the bed in my guest room is always made for you. and i put on those sheets i know you like, and i have those fragrance sticks with the rose scent, you said you liked them last time you visited me. well, i mean, my room and my bed is always ready for you, too. and i'll be in it, so… *chuckle* my mind just keeps wandering off to when you were here a few nights ago, and… i think… honestly? i think you should move in with me. okay, that sounds crazy and impulsive and like i haven't thought this through, but i really have given it a lot of thought. i want you to move in here. don't worry about the expenses, i can take care of it all. and a moving truck to get your stuff, i'll pay for it. just… think about it, will you? don't just laugh it off. i'm serious about this."

charles leclerc

"i just got back to the apartment, and it's... so quiet without you here. i keep thinking about the last time we made dinner together and how you laughed so hard at my terrible cooking that the neighbors came over to complain. i'm still scared of meeting them in the stairwell. maybe next time, you should be the one to take charge and show me how it's done? save me from another disaster? or we could go out, whichever you prefer. i just really want to see you again. and not die from food poisoning."

alex albon

"the other day, you mentioned not having a necklace that fit the new top you bought. and for some reason, i just happened to find myself right outside a jewelry store today. so i went in and bought you something. the lady in the cash register told me that a longer chain with a pendant would fit a v-neck top best, so that's what i got. it's gold, of course, i wouldn't dare buy you anything silver after you lectured me about having a warm skin tone for half an hour... i don't know, i just wanted to tell you this so you don't run around stressing about having to buy a new necklace. i can drop by yours with it if you want me to. or if you want to wear the top tonight, i'll give it to you when i pick you up."

oscar piastri

"hey, i just wanted to check in with you, make sure you're okay. are you? *pause*. what he said tonight, that was... it wasn't right. you don't deserve that. he was wrong, he has no idea what he's talking about. please, call me when you get this."

ollie bearman

"can i come straight to yours from the airport? you don't have to hug me before i shower, i might be full of flight germs, but... i just want to see you. and i'm pretty sure i forgot my favorite sweater at your place last time i went to visit you. you know, the blue one?... i think you know. not that i want it back, you can keep it if you like it. i know you look cute in it... that's beside the point. i'll tell the taxi driver your address, let me know if you don't want me coming over. see you soon."

paul aron

"some kids are building a snow fort down the street. you know, in the park where we had that picnic last summer? one of them has slipped and fallen right onto his butt about ten times now, it's hilarious. i wish you were here to see it, you would've laughed your ass off. *pause*. wish you were here for other reasons, too. but... just one more week, right?"

arthur leclerc

"i may have had a bit too much wine but i needed to call you and tell you what i just realized. you have the prettiest eyes in the world. they are gorgeous. i want to trade eyes, if i have your eyes then i would be able to get any girl – but i still only have eyes for you. haha, get it? because they're your eyes? *pause*. why are you not answering? did you hang up on me? oh, is this voicemail? did you not think i was important enough to pick up the call? even at three in the morning, you should only think about me."

pepe marti

"i know i said i was going to call you tomorrow, but i just realized. i forgot to tell you something. sebastian is throwing a party this weekend- i think it's more of a housewarming-gathering-thing, and i wasn't really feeling like going, but... i would love to introduce you to some of my friends. they're all really nice, i promise you, and if you ever feel even slightly bad, we can leave instantly. i just want to show you off, i guess? everyone would be so jealous- i didn't mean it like that, i made it sound like- i'm sorry. just please, come with me. it would mean the world to me."

clement novalak

"i went by that bookshop i know you like. the cute little one near the subway station, right by the park? and i... i had some time to spare, so i went in. just to look around at first, but then i wanted to ask the woman who works there if they have that book you were talking about. but i just couldn't remember the name of it, so i tried to explain it to her based on what you told me weeks ago, but i was just rambling... but i think she managed to find the right one. hopefully. and when we went to pay, she asked if she should wrap it and i said 'sure', but when she asked who it was to, i froze... so the wrapping has little hearts on it, i hope that's okay. i'll see you tonight, right? can't wait."

[pearlzier]

hiii! i hope you’re having a good day/night ^_^ i was wondering if you could wirte either sam or dean winchester with a bimbo reader!! smut or fluff i dunno ahhh TY!!

☆ ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ this took me so long m'so sorry ml !! ۫ .

☆ warning ; tad bit suggestive i mean. it's dean ,,

“pass me the fuckin’ uh..” dean ran his hand through his hair, crouched beside baby. it was a one in a million day where dean had no shit to do, so he found himself doing checks on baby even if she was in perfect shape. doesn't mean he can't check in on his girl, whilst his girl is sat on the precariously stored chair. yeah, he'd told you if you fell he'd absolutely laugh at you however he knew full well that he'd literally perform an act of magic on you to keep you safe.

“uh, screw driver?” you bat your lashes at him, legs rocking as you typed on your phone, snorting out a laugh at the emoticon that charlie had sent you. of course, you liked to help dean out. but the weather was so good, and the sun was good for your skin, or so that forum that you read at the library when you went with sam said. also, you and charlie had a lot of gossip to catch up on, so.. you weren't on your game as much as you usually were.

a soft laugh slips past dean's lips as he shakes his head, looking back at the toolbox in your lap. you watch as he gets up, his hands a little stained with car oil, which in fact, does not suit the white colour of your babydoll top, clinging to the curve of your chest. which dean took much pleasure in, but besides—so you squirm back a little when he comes closer, “dean, you cannot touch me with your hands like that, i love you, but no—”

“relax, sweetheart, just tryna get a wrench,” dean teases, “can't a guy get a wrench? jeez,” he raises his hands teasingly before he carefully grabs a wrench from the tool box. not before swiping his thumb over your nose which causes you to squeal, and he quickly makes his way back to baby before you can retaliate.

“dean!” you gasp, rummaging for your pocket mirror in the pockets of your baby pink hoodie, finding it and soon looking at yourself in the mirror. a little smudge of darkness glistens on your nose and the pout you give dean makes him cackle a little.

“c'mon, it adds character, don't you think?” he does a little tinkering under the car, to which you have absolutely no clue what he's doing. did you want to know? no, not really. you wanted to know why you had oil on your nose! you knew why, but why dean did it was a mystery, and you huffed.

“you'll know what character is when i'm done with you,” you mumble back sassily, giggling when you see the surprise fill dean's gaze. so, he rises from where he is, and saunters his way back over, having used a rag to wipe down his hands so you wouldn't throw a little hissy fit.

“is that right, hm?” his green eyes lift to yours, and leaning against the chair, he bites his bottom lip. hell, he likes when you get fiesty with him. “gonna show me character?” his low, gravelly voice cooed softly as his hands brushed over your sides.

this knocked you down a few pegs, because to be fair, if your bombshell of a boyfriend is speaking like that and holding you like this, well, who isn't gonna get a little flustered. “uh—yeah, character.” you do notice how his eyes flit down to your cleavage for a vague moment, and you speak up, a little uncharacteristically but in a way dean adores—“eyes are up here, deano.”

a groan slips past his pink lips, and you soon find his green, piercing eyes hooded and looking up at you. “tease,” he mutters under his breath, and a flush dusts his skin that he never expected to happen. “think i know where your eyes are, doll, just enjoying..” he traced a finger over the lace containing the spill of your tits, “the view. know you're enjoyin’ mine.”

you thought he wouldn't notice! you'd been staring at him for a while now, considering the fact he'd blessed you with the sight of not only his arms in a tank but sweats? your man was a slut, you couldn't even deny it. “dean, stoppp,” you mumble, getting a little heated as he brushes his fingers over you. “shut up.”

he pouts playfully, pressing his forehead gently against yours. lifting his thumb to your glossy lips, he pulls it gently before letting it go, a giggle slipping past his lips. “now you're being mean, pretty baby,” his hands slide down from your chest to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “mean to your ol’ dean?”

you push at his chest playfully, tapping your acrylics against his chest with a little laugh. this causes dean to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh a little and pull you against him. “you were bein’ mean to me first, dean!” his brows raise, “you know exactly how. oil? nose? coulda’ gotten it on my top!”

he rolled his eyes at your behaviour, it's not like that top was expensive anyway. you two got it when dean had literally stolen 20 dollars from a wallet he found on the floor this one time. but that's besides the point. “can always get you a new one,” he shrugs his shoulders, flashing the signature winchester smirk. “kinda always been itchin’ to rip this one anyway. doesn't do that body justice.”

“dean,” you two were literally outside the motel, you couldn't do anything like dean was absolutely suggesting. and judging from the way his hand was sliding up under your skirt to cup your ass, well, he was suggesting a lot. he gives a gentle squeeze, growling softly before he lifted you up off of the chair, causing you to squeal. “dean!”

he swung you over so you'd sit on the hood of the impala, watching as your little skirt hiked up. a grin played on his lips and he sighed softly. “how'd i get so lucky, huh?” dean lifted ring clad fingers to brush the side of your face. “grumpy hunter like me.”

“fine ass hunter like yourself,” your retort was instant.

“i didn't say it, you did, so it ain't braggin’,” dean wiggled his eyebrows instantly, drawing you impossibly closer as his hands groped at your thighs gently. he was clearly a big fan of your body.

“dean, there are people walking past,” you nudge him, not before placing a glossy kiss to his cheek. he shrugs, glancing over at a passing woman and her boyfriend on the street. in usual dean fashion, he gives your ass a pat and winks at the couple, not that you realise.

“well, maybe, they wanna piece of this fine ass,” he squeezed, looking up at you through his lashes. “they'd have to go through me, first though,” literally before you can even realise it, you've been hiked up over his shoulder with your ass practically out.

“dean, my skirt!” dean acts oblivious, but slides a hand over you to keep the view at bay, a laugh slipping past his lips. “relax, sweetheart, i got you,” does this calm your nerves? no, not really, but, you relax into his grasp.

“you're the worst,” as you shake your head, your earrings shimmer under the dim lights of the motel as you make your way in. dean's practically a deer in headlights looking at you before he focuses again, and taps the doorframe of where sam's in.

“keep an eye on baby, alright? got some uh, things to be doin’, sammy,” it's like sam didn't even have to ask as he saw dean give you a playful swat on the ass, herding you to the bedroom. 

“yeah, sure, whatever,” sam was ninety-five percent sure he might have to go do his research in the impala because knowing you two? you were loud.

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @onlynextdoor ۫ .

☆ 𝜗𝜚 ( your honor, i loveeee himmmmmmmmm.... lmk if u wanna be tagged in spn works lolz

[vivalas-vega]

late / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

hiii - feels like a long time since I've actually posted anything. this fic idea came to me kind of randomly - I've been seeing a lot of fics lately centered around making/having babies and I thought it'd be nice to write something angsty and fluffy catered to those of us who are childless and want to remain that way lol - as always, lmk what you think!

late / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

word count: 3.5k

I do not have a taglist - if you'd like to be notified of future works please follow @vegaslibrary and turn on post notifications

warnings: mentions of periods, hints at termination (not said explicitly but it's there), talk of kids/pregnancy, angst and fluff !!

You shut the dishwasher before continuing to move about the kitchen as you cleaned up from dinner, one you would say was one of your best if you were going to toot your own horn, and your sights were set on the freezer for a little ice cream to go along with your movie before bed. You thought you should hold out, you’d left an invite open to your boyfriend to come here after his plans, but you decided against it. Ben and Jerry’s waits for no one.

You set it out to soften for a minute, pulling your planner from your bag to skim through your plans for the next day to make sure all your ducks were in a row and you were about to close it when you fixated on the date. “There’s no way,” you muttered to yourself, genuinely baffled by how far into the month you were. Your brow furrowed as you tried to comb through your memory but things had been so busy lately you were falling short so you switched to your phone and tapped on the pink app icon, eyes widening as you realized your first thought was true.

“No, no, no,” you sighed, walking to the bathroom with a quicker pace than normal and dropping down to look beneath your sink. “Don’t be expired,” you pleaded. To whom you were pleading you had no idea, but you breathed out a sigh of relief when the tiny text on the box confirmed you still had a while to use them. 

You checked the app again, scrolling back through the month and confirming what you’d hoped you’d misinterpreted the first time… but you hadn’t, you were in fact late. Ten days late. You had always considered yourself quite lucky, your period ran like a well oiled machine and your cycle was always twenty-nine days on the dot. Every so often you’d fluctuate, but only by a day, and for that you were grateful. You were always prepared, and you always knew if you ever fluctuated by more than a day it was cause for concern…

Ten days was more than cause for concern in your book, frankly as you stared at the test you thought you didn’t even really need to take it. You only kept them on hand because you were known for missing a pill here and there and you’d rather have to run to your bathroom in a panic than to your closest mini-mart, but you’d never truly had a scare before. You always assumed they’d expire before you got to use them. Oh, how wrong you were. 

Pregnancy was never on the docket for you. You knew from a young age you had no interest and frankly it scared you more than anything. You knew it was reckless not to switch to a more effective birth control, one that was foolproof and long-lasting but the pill you’d been on since high school hadn’t failed you yet so you’d put it off despite the fact that it had been on your to-do list. Right about now you were wishing you’d just booked the appointment and gotten it over with. 

You did the only thing you really knew to do at this moment and fired off a text to Natasha, your best friend for almost two decades. All it read was three simple numbers: 911. 

You heaved a sigh as you ran your fingers through your hair and chastised yourself for being so flippant. You knew you didn’t want this, and you knew the pill wasn’t perfect, especially not when you missed at least one per pack. Really, you’d just gotten lucky your whole adult life, and the fact that this hadn’t happened sooner was beginning to feel like a miracle as you really let the situation wash over you. You were broken from your thoughts by the sound of your phone vibrating harshly against the tile and you answered it before it even got through its first ring.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked in lieu of a hello. This was one of the many reasons you loved her and why she was still your best friend after all this time. Unless she was in the air or on the other side of the world, a 911 text was responded to in the form of a call in five minutes or less. You also decided to forgo a greeting and simply held up the box and her eyes widened, “no, are you serious?” 

“Unfortunately,” you sighed and she considered her next question carefully.

“Have you taken one yet?” You shook your head. “Okay, so it’s just a suspicion, maybe there’s not even anything to worry about.” 

“Ten days, Nat,” you replied.

“Oh shit,” was all she said for a moment. “Hey, you’ve been eerily regular your entire life, maybe your uterus taking a hard earned break,” she tried and you chuckled at the attempt to lighten the situation with humor. 

“Or maybe it’s growing a person,” you said and she rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t even taken it, you can’t get all doom and gloom yet. Have you talked to Jake?” 

“Should I?” you shot back and she just gave you a deadpan look through the screen.

“Should you talk to your boyfriend, the one who may or may not have impregnated you, about the fact that he may or may not have impregnated you?” she asked rhetorically. 

“I just… it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere if it’s positive,” you sighed. “We haven’t talked about it, Nat. He doesn’t know how I feel and I have a feeling it’s going to ruin everything.” 

“How could you know that if you haven’t talked about it?” she replied with that face that told you she knew she was right, because she always was, not that you’d tell her that. “If this was some random hookup I’d say absolutely don’t talk to them about it, but this is Jake… you guys are getting serious and I think you’ll feel better if you do.” 

“That’s the thing, we’re getting serious. This is still so new, what if I lose him as soon as I tell him ‘yeah if you stay with me you’ll never have a family’?” 

“First of all, I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this but definitely don’t say it like that. Second of all, if you lose him because your goals for the future don’t align then he was never really yours to begin with. It just means your person is still out there and so is his.” 

“I know that was meant to be comforting but the thought of him having a person out there that isn’t me is making me nauseous.” 

“Sure it’s not morning sickness?” she teased and you scowled at your phone screen. 

“I’m serious, Nat… I know it’s early and we’re just starting to settle into a groove but I feel like he’s it, you know?”

“No, I really don’t know how my beautiful and smart best friend winds up being it for Hangman, but you know I love and support you and all your choices… including whatever you decide to do if the test is positive. At the end of the day the final say is yours, but I think you should at least include him in the conversation.” 

“I know, I just… shit,” you were cut off by the sound of your front door and Jake’s voice letting you know it was him. “I completely forgot he was coming over.”

“Talk to him, even if it doesn’t go well it’s better to know now, it’ll only hurt worse later… and for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’ll be whatever worst case scenario you’ve concocted,” she said before you hung up and Jake was just walking into to bedroom as you exited the bathroom.

“Hey, there you are sweetheart,” he said with that famous smirk of his that was now only reserved for you. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips that you easily reciprocated, “you on the phone?” 

“I was, with Nat,” you answered and he chuckled.

“Swear you two can’t go four hours without checking in. I have no idea how you make it through deployments.” He’d tease but he loved how close you were, if you weren’t he’d never have met you. You would have never been dragged into the Hard Deck and he’d never have the opportunity to spend two long months trying to win you over. She’d swear until her dying breath it had been the opposite of her intentions, but Jake would always consider himself indebted to Natasha for bringing you into his life.

“Yeah well, she had to tell me all about your epic failure at the pool table,” you said and he laughed. It absolutely had not been the topic of your call, but you were glad she had been texting you about your boyfriend’s terrible game against Bradley as it was happening so you had something to say while you worked up the nerve to tell him what you were really talking about. 

“Okay, it was not an epic failure,” he said as he pulled his spare clothes from your dresser and began working on the buttons of his khakis, “but if it was, it was only because I didn’t have my good luck charm.” 

“She said you’d use some cop out like that,” you replied and he playfully rolled his eyes. He quickly pulled on his sweats and became acutely aware of how you hadn’t moved an inch since he arrived, and the way you were picking at a hangnail on your thumb. Normally, you’d have already jumped into bed and launched into a rundown of everything that happened during the day but you were silent, unmoving, and about to hit bone on your thumb. 

“Everything okay?” he asked as he shrugged his shirt on and you nodded, suddenly realizing how off you were being as well. 

“Just a long day at work,” you answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and you should have known he’d see right through you. He always did, even before you were officially together. Jake had learned you and all your cues in record time and nothing got under his skin more than when you tried to pretend he hadn’t… like you were right now. 

“Wanna try that again?” He sat beside you and put a reassuring hand on your thigh, and the simple action had you letting out a sigh. 

“I’m late,” you said and Jake just nodded. Most men would have asked late for what? but as you’d learned over the past several months, Jake wasn’t most men and he didn’t need to prod to realize what you meant, especially when you were this visibly anxious.

“Okay, have you taken a test yet? Do we need to go get one?” He kept his tone even and measured, not wanting to add any more stress onto your plate.

You shook your head, “there’s one in the bathroom,” you answered. He hated the way you were avoiding his eyes and the way you hadn’t stopped picking at your hands.

“Let’s take the test so we know exactly what we’re dealing with, and then regardless of the result we’ll sit right here and talk it all out… how does that sound?” he asked and you smiled softly but it didn’t reach your eyes. He was always proactive, any time something came up he immediately sought out a solution and you weren’t at all surprised this was his response.

“I think that sounds good,” you said as you stood, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” he replied and you knew from the look in his eyes he meant that in more ways than one. Seeing you stressed or overwhelmed wasn’t new for him, but this was something else entirely… normally you’d be frazzled over something work related and you’d vent to him and snap back to normal but you were completely withdrawn. He knew you were scared, frankly he was a little scared too, but he was suddenly worried he hadn’t made his feelings clear enough. There really wasn’t anything you could do at this point to send him running, and especially not this; he desperately wanted to know what was nagging at you so he could reassure it away.

You returned from the bathroom and took up your previous spot beside him, stick in hand, “two minutes.” you said softly and he leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, whatever it is we’ll figure it out. Everything will be okay,” he said and you nodded but he could tell his words just rolled right off you, not sticking in the slightest. He thought it’d be best to stay silent while you waited, he’d be able to get to the root of it once you both knew exactly what was going on.

The timer on your phone startled you and you silenced it as you took a deep breath. Jake slid his hand through your free one and intertwined your fingers, squeezing reassuringly as you flipped the test over. Negative. You exhaled in relief and dropped your head against his shoulder and he quickly lifted his arm to pull you into his chest. Emotion tugged at you despite how you tried to keep it at arm's length, and eventually you succumbed to the tears trying to break free.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay,” Jake whispered, kissing the top of your head and drawing soothing patterns along your back. He continued to talk, low reassurances that weren’t quite registering but the tenor of his voice eventually calmed you down and when the emotions finally ran their course he hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. “Talk to me, what had you so worried?” he asked gently, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

You considered your options: you could say you were just terrified by an unplanned pregnancy and push past it, or you could do what you knew you needed to and be honest despite the fact you were somehow convinced it’d bring the end of your relationship. “I don’t want kids,” you blurted out and he was nearly as surprised by the sudden confession as you were.

“I- I never have, I… never envisioned that life for myself and I’ve never felt that thing people feel that makes them want kids. I know I’m like… broken or something, I know it literally goes against my biological nature to not want kids, I just don’t and I know that can be a deal breaker so I understand if you don’t want to stay-"

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he interrupted, his tone still gentle but not as soft as it had been earlier. “You are not broken. It’s perfectly normal to not want kids and you don’t need to justify that, to me or anyone else. This isn’t a deal breaker, sweetheart, I’m pretty convinced nothing is at this point,” he said and this reassured you slightly, loosened the knot in your stomach slightly.

“You don’t want kids?” you asked, your voice still timid and small. You didn’t want to ask but you needed to know, this was your one shot to get everything out in the open and make sure you were on the same page.

He thought carefully for a moment before answering. “I honestly haven’t given it a lot of thought. My life is so up in the air, literally and figuratively, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to picture slowing down enough to factor kids in. That’s not to say I’ve never wanted them, but I’ve never been attached to the idea.”

“Is it disappointing to know that if you stay with me you’ll never have that option? I don’t want you to have regrets or end up resenting me because I never gave you a family.” Jake’s heart cracked at the look on your face and the emotion thinly veiled in your eyes. In the back of his mind he knew this was coming from somewhere specific… At some point someone had made you feel like you were broken, had either said or made you feel like a life with you wouldn’t be enough without kids and he hated that. He hated that right now it seemed like you were just waiting for him to echo the sentiment and leave you stranded. 

“Sweetheart, if that test had been positive and you wanted to keep it I’d be thrilled to start a family with you, just as thrilled as I am to build a life just the two of us. I don’t love you because of your ability to provide me with a hypothetical family… I love you because you’re you, that’s always going to be enough for me.” Your breathing hitched as you processed his words, you literally felt the weight lift off your chest at the reassurance he really wasn’t going anywhere and it gave your heart the room to thud wildly against your rib cage.

“You love me?” you asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips and his eyes widened. In the heat of the moment he hadn’t realized what he’d confessed and he felt himself flush.

“Yeah, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it just now, or so soon- I do love you but this night has been emotionally overwhelming enough, please don’t feel like you have-“ he was rambling, and you were having a hard time keeping your enjoyment in check. 

Jake was a confident and assured man, it’s part of what drew you to him at first, but now he was a stumbling mess with crimson cheeks because he’d just confessed he loved you and you were sure he’d never been more attractive to you. Not when he sidled up beside you and bought every drink you ordered every time you were in the Hard Deck with that cocky smirk and those sparkling eyes, not when he boldly flirted with you every time he saw you despite Natasha threatening to have him shot out of the sky, and not when he threw an arm around your shoulder and called you his girlfriend with no real confirmation, he just knew you were his and he was yours. None of those moments of the smooth and charismatic Jake you knew compared to this sweet and bashful one in front of you.

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss, knowing he wouldn’t stop unless you did it for him. He responded instantly and you couldn’t help but giggle as you pulled back. “I love you, too.” you said and in the blink of an eye he regained his confidence, pulling you back into him and kissing you like a man starved. 

“You just made me the happiest man on earth, darlin’,” he said, pecking your lips once more. “A life with you is everything I ever dreamed of. We don’t have to talk about this ever again unless you want to… I just need you to know that I’ll remain the happiest man on earth so long as I’ve got you, no hypothetical children could ever make me regret or resent you.” 

You felt the need to be closer to him and crawled into his lap to wrap around him like a koala, squeezing so tight he let out a strained laugh. “I love you,” you said again as he held you close.

“I love you too, sweetheart… Now what do you say we get some snacks and ice cream and decompress with a movie night?” he asked and your eyes widened as you pulled back, suddenly remembering what you’d left on the counter. 

“My ice cream!” you yelled, disentangling yourself from him and sprinting down the hallway to assess the damage and he trailed behind you chuckling the whole way… he watched you frown as you looked at what had turned into soup and you pulled out your phone, mumbling something about getting it delivered because there was no way you’d go without a sweet treat tonight. He was paying attention, because of course he was, but as he stood leaning against the doorframe looking at you with a lovesick expression on his face he was thinking about the future. 

He saw nights at the bar, you heckling his friends better than he ever could and getting away with it in a way he never did. He saw travel at every opportunity and nights-in just like you were about to have. He saw romantic dinners and fights and nights of endless passion — and maybe he saw a dog down the line. He saw himself putting a big rock on your finger and buying you a house with a porch swing out back because he knew that’s all you really wanted, and it’s there on that swing you’d watch the sun rise and set over the ocean and truly start to grow old together. He saw it all, the good and the bad, in a split second while watching you lean over the kitchen counter, eyes glued to your phone as you scrolled through your options, and he couldn’t help but beam. ‘As if I could ever regret a life with you,’ he thought.

[tan1shere]

Heyy I was wondering if you could do a fic with Ellie x reader when r is on her period. Ellie doesn’t know, but she’s really hormonal, moody, and lashes out at Ellie. Eventually Ellie connects the dots and is really sweet and understanding and R just breaks down in tears saying stuff like she’s a terrible gf etc. R is also in a lot of pain with cramps and just wants to sleep and Ellie is there for her there too. I love your writing!!

You're ok

Ellie Williams x female reader!

A/n: hiii thank you 😊 I'm so glad you enjoy it, this one's just for you nonnie <3 hope you like it !!

Warnings: none really, fluffyness ! Moody reader ? -

Masterlist

Birds were chirping, the sun starting to shine in. You smiled to yourself, this was going to be a good day! Until your legs hit the floor. A wave of blood washes over your uterus. Fuck. No no- was all you could think. You groan, it was always so irregular. It was supposed to come next week. You flop back on the bed, dreading this day already. Curling back up into the sheets. Why today, you planned to do stuff, be productive. It frustrated you how your period could be. Just be normal for God sake.

"Morning baby, I made you some breakfast." You hear your girlfriends voice. You groan in pain, your cramps starting to kick in like crazy, as usual. "Not hungry." Her brows furrow. "Bu-" "I said I'm not hungry." You spit. Her brows furrow more, deciding to leave you alone at your sudden outburst. All you wanted to do was sleep and hope the day speeds up faster.

It infact didn't. The common headache starts, the cramps become more and more. You decided to get up to get some water, moody and annoyed. "You done with whatever this morning was?" "Shut up." You grumble. Exhausted, hair a mess. Her head tilts looking at you in thought. "What it up with you today." You don't reply just wanting to lay in your bed again. She hated seeing you this way. "Hello?" You then go back up the stairs to lay down.

She opens the door a few hours later grabbing a book from the bedside. Noticing you were asleep. She was trying to rack her brain what was bothering you so much, then it clicked. "Period." She whispered. Then her demeanor softens. She felt awful for not noticing. Ellie was smart she pieced it together, she got them too she knows. But she also understood how badly you got yours, especially after you missed last months.

Another hour passes and you're awake again, staring at the ceiling. Your body ached, but your mood certainly changed. You hated how your body made you treat people, your mind all over the place. You look at the clock to check the time. It was way later in the evening. You decided to get up and go see your girlfriend just wanting some comfort after today. But most importantly to apologize, for no real reason as Ellie would say. She was so understanding, always saying that there was no need to apologize. You walk down seeing her watching TV on the couch. "Ells?" You softly say.

Her head turns to look at you. "I'm sorry Ellie, I'm so sorry." - "Hey hey its fine. You're ok." She lifts the blanket. "Come here." And you do, getting under it with her. "Why didn't you tell me when you saw I didn't know yet?" You shrug lightly. "I dunno baby, I'm sorry I've been so awful and evil today." This makes her laugh. "My wicked little moody monster." Your eyes roll with a huge smile. "Youre so silly." Her hand comes in contact with your hair. "How bad have they been?" You sigh and that's enough for her to know that they were bad. "Everything aches." A sad look is present on her features. "I'm sorry angel.

Your body moves closer into her touch loving the warm feeling she gave you. Why couldn't you of just done this, this morning. Instead of lashing out. "Look at me baby." She then says pulling you out if your thoughts. "It's not your fault. It's ok, I understand now, please don't worry about this morning." She saw through you and your mind. You nodded. "We're only human bub." Her soft way made you snuggle into her more. She was truly the best.

"Will you let me take care of you now?" You nod gently. And this makes her smile stick. She loved taking care of you, it filled her with so much joy to be there for the person she loved. "Thank you for being so patient with me." You tell her. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. "I will forever be patient with you, I love you."

"I love you too."

For the rest of that night that's what she did, she made sure you ate. Had something warm on your stomach for the pesky cramps. Ran you a soothing warm bath, for the whole of your aching body. And the cuddliest cuddles to end of a horrible day.