#if noone else will do it i guess I have to

[carefreecoffee]

Fluffmas Day 9: Icy hands w/ Keigo Takami

Word count: 1k, Gender-neutral Reader

Keigo opened up the front door to his home, having finished a long shift on patrol from noon until the sun had begun setting.

He quietly slipped his shoes off and closed the door behind him glancing around until he saw you curled up on the couch bundled up in a bunch of your shared blankets as you watched the television. “Hey Birdy” A smirk tugged at his lips as he made his way to and sat down next to you.

“Ya look like a burrito” He teased gently, running hand over your covered leg.

You grin, glancing above the blanket and meeting his golden eyes with a smirk. “Comfier than you by a long shot”

He let out a soft scoff, leaning against the back of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. He reached over and gave your blankets a light tug “Oh yeah? It’s true your comfy and warm but, I’m comfier and warmer, no doubt”

He scooched toward you a bit more, “Can I join ya in that little burrito of yours?” A playful smile tugged at his lips and without even waiting for a response, Keigo shifted so that he was closer to you, his wing lightly draping itself over you to join in the cocoon of warmth.

You yelp, a small chuckle escaping you as he huddles under. His hands raise to your arms in order to properly cuddle until he feels the temperature of your skin in vast contrast.

He let out a small huff, his hands roaming down to your legs that were draped around his waist. “Christ your hands are like ice, and you're freezing” Keigo shifted slightly so that you were now sprawled on top of him, shifting closer to you and draping the blanket back over the two of you properly. “How’re you so damn cold?”

You shrug, “Jus' how i run i guess” You run your hands up his clothed arms before getting a rather devious idea. Slowly you ran your hand up and quickly placed them upon the nape of his neck.

Sullen of being cold, the sudden feeling of your icy cold hands on his neck made him jump slightly. “Gah cold! Hands not that damn cold” He yelped quickly burying his face in the crook of your neck to try and warm up. In return he retaliated by doing the same to you, running his warm hands along your arms and up to your neck.

You shiver as his warm hands trace along your colder body, “Jesus you're burning!”

Keigo laughed as you shivered when his warm hands touched your cold body. He lightly traced patterns along the expanse of your body with one of his warm hands, his other hand gently cupped the back of your head giving him more access to bury his head into your neck, his hair lightly tickling your face. “And you're absolutely freezing, seriously how are you this cold?!”

You shrug once more, glancing down at him cheekily. “I don't know but it's kinda funny seeing you so scared of my hands” You wiggle them toward him creepily, a grin emerging on your face as you notice his eyes widen.

His eyes widened as you moved your hands towards him, clearly showing that he was trying not to cringe as your cold hands grew closer. “Hey! Don’t touch me with your ice cube hands, they’re way too cold” he scolded, lightly swatting at your hands.

In retaliation, you move them under his compressed work shirt, trapping them there as you run them along his chest.

He let out a strangled gasp as your icy cold hands made their way under his shirt. He shivered as the sensation of the sudden coldness on his skin, he let out a low grumble as your hands settled on his chest. “C-Cold! Dammit your hands are cold stop! They’re freezing, get ‘em off!”

You chuckle at the reaction, getting exactly as you wanted. With nowhere else to go, he rolled out onto the carpeted floor, taking you with him as you yelped, his wings still making sure that you didn't get hurt.

A quiet ‘oof’ left his lips as the two of you fell, he ended up pinning you to the ground, his body hovering over yours. He tried to give you a stern glare but the small smile on his lips gave away how he was actually feeling “Oh, you think this is funny huh?!”

In the midst of your giggling fit, he took one of the many blankets off of the couch, beginning to wrap you up in the blanket skillfully, rolling you into a proper burrito at this point.

With you now all wrapped up in the blanket, Keigo sat on top of your hips, preventing you from being able to try and break free. He sat with a smirk on his face “Now what’re you gonna do now? You’re all wrapped up like a little present!”

You move your head a bit, testing the mobility of your arms and legs. “You suck, Kei” A pout forms on your face as you glared up at him.

Keigo chuckled at your attempt to move, leaning forward as he placed his hands on either side of your head, a playful yet mocking smile appearing on his lips “Aww, you’re pinned down and can’t move. Sounds like a skill issue”

Your mouth drops open in shock at the insult, feigning offense. “You little shit!”

A bark of laughter left his lips seeing your shocked reaction “Now now, no need for language like that. I’m just teasing you.” He leaned down closer to your face, his golden brown eyes gleamed as he smirked at you.

You sigh, giving into the situation, a small smile finding your face. “Yeha yeah, Birdy” He hummed happily, leaning down and finally pecking your lips.

“Jesus! Even your lips are cold!” He hopped off of you, letting you unwrap yourself as he walked down the hallway. “I'm running you a hot bath!”

All you could do was chuckle, laying on the ground as you caught your breath from the cheeky endeavor, knowing that in the moment, you had the best life you could ask for with the best bird-brain in the world.

Please request! <3 {Taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02}

[fizhle]

I miss him

[jaxon-c6]

I didn't really draw on paper in a long time (a decade, almost). Last time I did was when I was still in school, during classes instead of paying attention I drew whatever I had in my mind at the moment. I guess it will take some time to get back to where I was back then. Sadly cannot show examples, my family put them on fire because 'it is trash' to live with their words. But I guess I got over that finally, and started with who else than Vulpes Inculta?

Not the best or most detailed, but I am still proud of myself for being able to overcome a decade of inactivity. First step was starting to draw on my phone, second and more important step is drawing on paper.

[mwagneto]

the only thing i hate more than ppl who lie is ppl who lie in a way that forces you to go along with it like ohhhmy fucking god do whatever the fuck you want if it's only yourself you're embarrassing but why would you bring ME into this. lord

[ninjacookiexd]

.

[abandonedsdjfhcvndfbv]

Sorry for the vaguepost it's with kind intentions but the amt of times i have had to tell people to stop flirting with me & then they act like they weren't

[dredshirtroberts]

having to physically remind myself i'm allowed to enjoy downtime especially if i've already done Tasks and Important Things.

[golurkkoopa]

.

[lunarsapphism]

god im on my last day of dogsitting/housesitting for these people and im so glad to be done. its literally fucking. 8 am and i have been woken up by one of the dogs whining at me to go outside every single day before 8. and of course i let both of them outside but like, apparently he gets fed breakfast every day at like 6 am and i know he gets dinner at 3 pm. but thats so early for both of those things. I hate people that start their days ridiculously early and thus naturally make it so their dogs have their routine too. im so tired. at least im getting paid! but holy shit i am exhausted

[rafeandonlyrafe]

favorite girl to see

words: 700

warnings: implied sex, cart girl!reader, soft!rafe, fluffy

“hey boys.” you grin as you greet them all, but your eye is on one boy in particular.

“there's my favorite girl to see.” rafe smiles, quickly putting his putter back in his golf bag.

you roll your eyes despite your cheeks blushing. “you just like me because i bring you drinks.”

“nope.” rafe shakes his head, walking closer to you as you stay sat in the cart, worried your knees would buckle if you tried to stand up with his full attention on you. “otherwise id say that to all the cart girls.”

“mmm, and you don't?” you raise your eyebrows.

“absolutely not.” rafe scoffs like it's a ridiculous notion.

“what'll it be for you today?” you ask rafe, standing carefully and rounding the golf cart to the drinks area, opening up the cooler, expecting to grab him a high noon or white claw like usual.

“just a water, actually.” rafe turns to look at his friend he's golfing with. you don't even glance away from rafes perfectly chiseled features. “anything for you top?”

“im good.”

“one water it is.” you dig out a bottle from the melting ice, taking a towel and drying off the sides so you don't have a wet drink to rafe.

“so kind.” he coos, reaching into his wallet.

“rafe-” you sigh, already knowing what is coming as he pulls out a hundred dollar bill.

“nope.” rafe says, stuffing the bill into your hand. “take it. a tip for my favorite girl to see.”

“the water is like five bucks, this is a ridiculous tip.” you state, always trying to argue against the way rafe tips you, knowing you'll end up conceding and taking it. 

“well, if it makes you feel better about it, there is something else you can do for me.”

“hm?” you question as rafe pulls out his phone, taps a few buttons, and then hands it to you.

“put your number in.”

-- 6 months later --

you look around the golf course, having taken a later shift instead of the early one you're used to. you're getting out on the green much later than normal, trying to spot your regulars, one in particular.

you put your cart into drive the moment you see him, skipping by any other groups who may be trying to buy something. you'll loop back later to get their orders, but your sole focus is on one man.

“rafe.” you hop out your cart, giving a quick look around before jumping into his open arms, knowing while employee member relationships are technically against the rules, rafe could pull a few strings if anyone ever tattled on you.

“my girl.” rafes smile is infectious, especially as his hands drop down to squeeze your ass over your skirt, pulling your hips right up against his. “you're here late.”

“let's just say someone kept me up late last night.” you giggle, pressing a kiss to rafes lips, knowing he's the reason you had to switch shifts this morning.

rafe deepens the kiss, one hand coming to the back of your neck to keep you close as his mouth covers yours, lips and tongue gliding against each other.

“babe-” you sigh, pulling away.

“yeah, i know.” rafe steps away, knowing you only allow so much pda when you're at work.

it's one of the reasons rafe tried to convince you to quit many times, insisting you didn't need to work now that you had him, but you like picking up a few hours every week.

“what can i get you?” you ask, taking his hand in yours and tugging him towards the cart.

“another kiss.” rafe smiles. you roll your eyes and press a quick peck to his lips.

“and to drink?”

“gatorade, i guess.” rafe shrugs. “im also kinda tired from last night.”

you don't miss the wink that he gives you as you fish out his drink.

rafe grabs his wallet from his back pocket as you let out a groan, knowing what is to come, his tipping habits not changing one bit despite being together.

“what?” rafe says, handing you the large bill, knowing he'll take you shopping later to spend it. “i want to make sure you give better service to me than any of these old bastards.”

“speaking of service-” you get on your tiptoes and whisper into rafes ear. “meet me in the employee break room in 30?”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[ssahotchnerr]

hey i tried to see if requests are open but can’t see anything, so hungover!reader x hotch? 🙏🙏

remedies

cw; fem bau!reader, drinking mentions, hangover talk and symptoms, fluff <3

There was a brief moment of peace when you stirred. Being pulled from such heavy sleep, a moment of solitude, before you met consciousness with excruciating pain. Regret was the next sensation to sweep through your body, until your awareness vaguely focused elsewhere. You either heard footsteps nearing, or it was the repetitive throb in your head.

Aaron had a key to your place and he had let himself in. You hadn't answered any calls or texts, and he was partially worried (he had known you were going out the night prior, and did return home safely). His concerned look turned to a sweetly pitiful one as he saw you lying there, hazily blinking up at him.

"Hi sweetheart."

"Aaron?" Your head rose, your voice hoarse as it exited your lips, your dry throat to blame. You cursed your hangover for dulling the usual excitement whenever you caught sight of him. "What're you doing here?"

"We had brunch plans."

Your brows scrunched in confusion, as well as your eyes as they attempted to adjust to the light. "What time is it?" You could've answered your own question by peering at the clock besides you, but you didn't dare turn your head. The more you moved, the worse.

Aaron checked his watch, moving his jacket sleeve to view it, "Half past noon."

At his words, your eyes widened. The sudden shock interfered with your head, causing the pounding to only elevate.

"Oh god I'm sorry." You facepalmed by use of your pillow, the momentary darkness enhancing the dizziness behind your eyelids. "I'm awful."

"I wouldn't go that far." Aaron teased lightly as he sat on the bed besides you, his hand finding your back and sliding his palm along it softly. "Crazy night with the girls?"

"Penelope tried- created a new concoction of drinks." A wave of nausea hit you from the memory, your stomach swirling. You scowled in disgust, "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Aaron hummed in response, another pitiful smile tugging on his face as you groaned. He felt bad you felt bad. He's had his fair share of hangovers, sure, but never one at the hands of Penelope.

"I'm never drinking again." With all you had left in you, you forced your head to lift to defeatedly meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. I did have an alarm set. Or... I think? I must've slept through it."

"No it's okay, I figured. Knowing them, we shouldn't have made plans for the following morning." He flashed you an understanding smile, his hand stopping and giving you an affectionate tap.

"Probably a good idea."

"I can take an accurate guess, but how are you feeling?"

"Like the jet ran me over."

"That bad?"

"Penelope called her drink moonlight mojito blitz." Again, you nearly gagged at the thought, Aaron himself made a face. "Or something of the sort. I don't know, it had a complex name one way or another."

"Lucky for you then, I have more simply named reinforcements ." Aaron offered, gesturing to your bedside table. "Gatorade, water, ibuprofen, which I'm judging by the strain on your face, you should take now." He reached for the container, dumping the tablets into his palm. "Down the hatch."

You weakly sat up against your pillow, holding out your own hand. As you did what you were told, he produced the Gatorade.

"Drink up."

You winced at the words, "I'm having flashbacks."

He laughed softly, the sound enough to soothe any hangover, or plainly anything. "Sorry, but I'm serious. You need the electrolytes, I won't allow dehydration if I can help it. You'll need to eat something too, but that can wait at least. Until-"

You finished for him, taking a generous sip. "Until the room stops spinning."

"That's right," Aaron offered you another small, closed lip smile. "Can I get you anything else?"

You peered up at him, playing up the hopefulness in your eyes. The visual was for effect really, you knew he would implement anything you asked, as he always did. "My favorite pillow?"

"Sure honey, where-"

"You." You grabbed his wrist, weakly tugging him towards you and trying your hardest to not let your grasp drop despite the downward, heavy pull. "You're my favorite pillow."

Aaron slid besides you easily, and before he was thoroughly comfortable or settled, were you clinging onto him. Your face buried itself into the skin of his neck, while one of your legs lazily draped over his waist. He molded just as equally into your body too.

Your head was still spinning - part of you feared it would never cease - but Aaron's contact allowed some sense of stillness. Like you weren't going to be picked up and somehow carried away; he would ensure you were close and grounded.

"Is this really all you need?" Due to your close proximity, you could feel his voice vibrating through his chest. "Can't I do anything more? Is the room too warm? Too bright?"

You shook your head, tightening your leg's hold on him. There was a playful tone in your voice, "I may need you to hold my hair back later."

"You say the most romantic things to me." Aaron chuckled, his lips tugging into a smile before pressing his lips atop your head. He quipped back gently, "Looking forward to it."

[my-castles-crumbling]

support - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 496

"Reg?"

James called his boyfriend's name with a frown, giving up entirely on the idea of giving his boyfriend space. Regulus had been quieter than usual that morning, refusing to speak or even sit next to James. At first, James had accepted it. He'd learned long ago that it occasionally took Regulus time to thaw out in the morning, and the best way to support him was to let him be. But now it was coming 'round noon and Regulus had not approached him for his usual mid-morning hug.

"What."

Regulus's response was a harsh statement, and the tone made James nervous. So he sat next to the other man on their couch and turned to face him, even as Regulus crossed his arms and stared off into the distance with a pout.

"Baby...is something wrong?" He asked softly, knowing gentle questions were the best approach with an angry Regulus.

"No."

"Are you sure?" But as he reached out to tuck an errant curl behind Regulus's ear, the younger man jerked away, frowning. "Reg, what's wrong? Have I done something?"

"Yes."

James immediately recoiled a bit. "What is it, love?" He racked his brain thinking about how he could have wronged the perfect creature in front of him but came up blank. He hadn't even eaten the last of the ice cream in the freezer.

"You cheated on me, James," Regulus said, voice full of hurt, and James's blood went cold.

"What? Reg, Reg look at me!" He was panicking now. Reaching for his boyfriend's hand, he scrambled to gain eye contact. "Baby, I would never. Who told you-?"

"Sirius," Regulus said sadly, eyes still not meeting James's.

And for a moment, James's entire world was upended. Because why the fuck would Sirius say that?

Until Regulus continued.

"He said it in my dream last night."

And it took everything in James not to burst out laughing. Because it was so like Regulus to feel this way. To have a dream about him cheating and to be mad the next day. But he also knew that if he didn't tread carefully, he would do something in real life to get himself in trouble.

"Baby," he murmured, using his pointer finger to gently guide the shorter man's chin so their eyes met. "I am so sorry that I did that in your dream. I think if I had a dream like that, I would have woken up crying."

Regulus's answering blinks told James he was on the right track.

"But please know that I would never do that in real life. I would die rather than do that! You have to know I adore you, love, more than anyone else," he said passionately, staring deep into gray eyes.

And, biting his lip, Regulus nodded after a few agonizing seconds of silence. "Alright. I guess I forgive you."

James just grinned, pulling him into his arms, choosing not to mention that he hadn't actually done anything to forgive.

[somelazyassartist]

.

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

+18 mdni: Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time. 

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly. 

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one. 

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”

[carlsangel]

ARE YOU SURE?

carl grimes x fem!reader

tags: smut, awkwardish sex so watch out, p in v!

masterlist pinned on my profile! (i can’t link anythinggg)

read ghost in the woods. (also pinned on masterlist)

You always felt like crushes made your life more interesting. Even after the apocalypse started. Although that wasn’t able to be your main priority throughout the years, the world became more normal. The walkers, the quietness, the fighting. It all made sense and you adapted. Like humans are supposed to. However, with everything going back to normal, you were able to focus on the things you wanted rather than needed.

That being said, you were able to focus on someone you had quite a large crush on.

Carl.

You looked at him and wondered how no one else has seen him like you do. Just look at him. He has probably the most perfect hair you’ve ever seen. The sweetest looking lips and freckles that complimented his face so well. You were practically enthralled with this man and he had no clue. Or so you thought. Him being so clueless to how obsessed you were with him frustrated you to no end. You talked to him occasionally, whenever it seemed best.

During certain events you’d talk to him or you’d smile at him when you crossed paths. Sometimes you had the same watch shift and you had hours of just talking with each other. For some reason that never translated to outside work. He was always busy with Judith.

You just wanted to talk to him more. Anything.

That’s why, when Rick came up to you both during a watch shift and asked you to go on a run for him, you were ecstatic. Nervous like hell, but excited nonetheless. “I was wonderin’ if the two of you would be willin to go out tomorrow for some supplies. Nothing major just some batteries and what not.” Rick explains. You look over to Carl and he looks back to give a small smile before responding to his dad. “Yeah that shouldn’t be a problem.” He says. “Well it’ll have to be a bit later than a usual run…we won’t have enough people here to take your watch shifts till about noon.”

So it was a late run. Sounds like you’d have to be very focused.

And you were. At first at least. It was very awkward, it made you realize you never talked to him outside of working which technically you still were you just were trapped in a confined space alone. You began to overthink. You started to wonder if he’d seen you stare at him or if he saw how much you sought him out when you left your house in Alexandria.

But he didn’t know. All he knew is that he had to keep cool. You didn’t know it, but Carl was just as obsessed with you as you were. Usually when he’s like this he’d act on it. At least he did with Enid before they broke up. He would initiate everything with Enid, but with you…well you made him nervous. You were just really pretty and he was scared to look like some loser in front of you. The crush was so intense he actively avoided you which confused him really.

It explained his silence in the car. You two were told to drive out sort of far, but you decided to stop at an abandoned house first. Getting there, the sun was going down so it had to be quick. “Guess we should make this fast.” Carl states, getting out of the car and shutting the door. You agree. “Yep. Batteries…other shit.” You giggle. He smiles and you both head inside shortly after clearing it. It was pretty messy, paper and books everywhere along with random pillows scattered.

You both take separate paths into the home just to make sure there weren’t any surprises waiting for you behind doors. You have your knife in hand and a flashlight in the other, ready to open a bedroom door. Once you do, you open it to see a peculiar sight.

The bedroom was very nicely decorated to say the least.

There was a large bed with silk red sheets over it along with some nice pillows. there were dead rose petals scattered over it and the floor. The drawers in the room were all open with clothes falling out of them so you can only assume that their plans were scrapped. The bed was simply untouched. You sort of just stand there and stare at it, since that was all you really could do. You take it in and think about what could’ve happened when Carl comes up behind you, completely unaware. “Hey I checked the rest of the—woah..” He sees the bedroom and you snap out of it.

“Hm?” You look at him and he’s completely red. He takes a moment before continuing. “I checked the rest of the house. It’s safe. We should look through and find what we can.” He tells you. “Right. Yeah, of course.” So you scavenge through the house, mostly finding everything you needed in the kitchen and bathrooms. You noticed there was only one room however. Once you gathered everything you thought would be useful, you and Carl decided to leave, although it was unlikely you would until the next morning.

Before leaving you looked through the window to see that it was pitch black outside. You let the curtain fall back closed. “I’m not sure it’s a great idea to leave here.” You tell him. He looks at you and processes, letting his bag fall off his shoulder. “Help me barricade the door.” You both move to push one of the larger chairs in the living room to sit against the door. Once you’re all done, you decided to settle sleeping arrangements.

“I can sleep out here. On the couch.” He says, looking back to the couch which had no cushions on it. You look back at him and giggle. “We can both stay in the room? If that’s fine with you. There’s pillows in there.” You tell him. He hesitates but agrees. In the room you realized there a lack of comfort. You ended up lighting all the small candles and leaving them on the tables or dressers around the room to make it comfier. There were pillows but little blankets. The only ones being the silk sheets that were on the bed. He insists he’s fine so you leave him be and kick your shoes off the lay on the bed.

You both sit there in silence. Nothing. Not even a goodnight, the tension is incredibly thick and you’re both hyper aware of it. God it’s pissing you off. Doesn’t he get it? Doesn’t he see the way you look at him? You piss him off just as much. He just doesn’t have the balls to say it. It’s his fault after all, he avoids you constantly. He wants you. He wants you so fucking bad he just can’t—

“Just lay on the bed.” You blurt. His eyes open instantly. “It’s fine you can just lay on the bed.” You repeat. Carl slowly sits up and looks up at the bed. “Are you sure?” He asks. “Yeah I’m sure. We’re mature enough to do this without it being a thing. Right?” You sit up and look down at him. He just looks at you. Admiring how good you looked with just the warm lighting the candles gave. It almost turned him on. So he grows the balls to get up and kick his shoes off to lay on the bed. You lay back down and you both just sort of lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Carl was terrified. But he wanted you, he really did. He knew if he had the chance to do anything, it’d be right now. He can’t back out, he can’t avoid you. So he made the first move. That being, rolling to his side to look at you. You furrow your eyebrows and turn to see him, and it almost makes you laugh. You chuckle. “What?” You say amused. Your smile makes him happy. You reciprocate his action, turning onto your right side to face him. You sort of stare at each other and he has the slightest smile on his face. It’s very subtle but it’s there.

“What?” You repeat. He looks at you and builds up some courage. “You look pretty.” He says shortly. God you just wanted to scream how you felt. But he beats you to it. “I’ve sort of…I dunno I’ve been avoiding you for some reason. Well not some reason, I know the reason I just have this stupid crush and—” He nervously rambles which you find kind of sweet. But you suddenly get really excited. Was he seriously confessing? Right now? Everything went mute for a moment, you honestly heard nothing of what he was saying. You just felt the urge to kiss him. So you did.

Your hand moves beneath his chin to hold him in place while you press your lips to his. You both felt incredibly relieved, prompting a smile from his lips into the kiss. He almost moans, kissing you is all he’d been wanting. He grips your wrist and he moves his own hand to hold the side of your face, deepening the kiss. He moves over you, turning you to your back while kissing you deeply. Your hands move to his arms, running them up and down the fabric of his flannel. That reminds you.

You still have clothes on!

You pull back from him and he looks down at you, watching as you push his flannel off his shoulders. He realizes and is all for it. “Are we…um..” Carl lets you just start to take his clothes off with no problem. “This is fine.” He says with a smile, watching as you try your hardest to unbuckle his belt. Once you do he finally stops you to begin taking your clothes off, except you stopped him once he got to your bra. “Not yet. Please?” You question. He retracts his hands from your back and nods. “Yeah of course. I want my shirt on too…if that’s okay?” He looks down at you hopeful. You smile at him sweetly and nod.

“That’s okay.” You tell him. Of course you guys still wanted each other, but you still had your fears and insecurities. Not to mention you weren’t the closest just yet, this was on a whim. “But we can still…you know?” Carl questions, wanting to make sure you still wanted to go through with it. You nod and he takes that as a sign to pull his jeans off, meanwhile you take yours off. Once you’re ready, he looks down and can’t quite see. The room was dark, even with the candles. “Um…” He furrows his eyebrows but fuck he’s aching. He gently rubs himself over your folds, eliciting moans from the both of you. “Shit that feels so good. Really wet I—”

“Do you need help?” You cut him off, although you were getting impatient. It felt good but you needed him inside of you. It was a feeling you’d never felt before but you craved it. Terribly. “If you can’t find the right place? The hole, Carl.” How embarrassing for him. But to be fair it was dark in the room and he’d never done this in his life. But he agrees to the help and you lean down and almost guide him. Feeling his tip graze across your folds once again had you moan, but he prodded himself at your hole right away.

He breathed in sharply but slowly started to push himself all the way inside of you, bottoming out deep inside. His eyes fall shut and he drops his forehead to your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You turn to see him but he’s just breathing so heavy. “M-mhm. Just really tight. N’ warm…I don’t know if I’ll last long Im sorry.” He tries to adjust and pushes deeper in. You moan and it’s so much for him. He sits there for a moment, doing his best to catch his breath. Although that takes him a moment. Once he’s ready he pulls back to look at you.

He grins before starting to move his hips, starting in a really irregular manner. He was struggling a little bit but you could tell in the noises he was making. He was trying hard to not finish. He didn’t want to embarrass himself. Soon after, he ended up finding a nice rhythm. It felt amazing for the both of you, the moans slipping from your mouth got him closer each second. Your hands went from gripping the silk sheets beneath you to his side, grabbing at his shirt as you got closer.

He tries to shut himself up by kissing at your neck, occasionally biting. The sound of him in your ear was absolutely perfect. “Feels so good,” He says, over and over between whimpers. “Can’t take it you feel amazing.” It makes you smile that he can find such pleasure with you. He goes back to your neck, sucking marks to the skin.

It got to the point where he barely retracted himself from your heat, instead he kept buried inside. His breath got heavier and heavier, your moans got louder. “Carl I—” You start, unable to finish your sentence. “Mhm right there.” He shoves himself all the way inside, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. You finish, clenching around him which makes him pull out straight away to finish on your tummy. All over your shirt too.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, but watching Carl do the same made you so happy. It finally happened. After a while of what felt like pining, you finally had him. He smiles, still breathing heavily as he rests his head on your chest. You wrap your arms around him and run your fingers through his hair. You stew on the fact that he’s in your arms. He’s still getting over the fact he was inside you. Also you felt perfect.

He’s really glad he took that chance.

The next day the drive back was quiet yet peaceful. Except you were both thinking the same thing. How would you tell everyone back home? Would this keep happening, were you guys going to be together officially?

I guess you’d find out.

a/n: so actually don’t flame me if this is dog shit IM SORRYYY if it’s terrible or if there’s spelling mistakes i’m just a girl let’s leave me alone on mistypes. anyway guys idk what the hell is going on with matchups, don’t ask me dawg i’ve done three in total out of sixteen who knows when those will be finished

taglist: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @sstar-ggirl