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verstappen-cult · 8 months ago

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# WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I WENT TO TOUCH YOU NOW? | CL16

Or. . . 5 times you and Charles reach for the other and are oblivious about it + 1 time you aren’t.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

Content Warnings: Smut, fingering, unprotected sex. Just two oblivious in love. This one is long, so, prepare yourself, go grab a cup of coffee and a snack. I haven’t written smut in a very long time so don’t expect anything fancy and please be nice. Enjoy! xx

You and Charles can’t keep your hands to yourselves. Everyone can see that. Everyone but you two.

Charles is always reaching for you. He’s the first one leaning in to kiss your cheek as a greeting when you see each other, lingering for a couple of seconds with his cheek against yours, feeling your soft skin, with his hand squeezing your waist ever so slightly. When you are out with your friends he’s always trying to sit by your side, waiting for the right moment to put his arm in the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder and keeping up with the conversation as if nothing is happening. Charles tries to be smooth about it, he really tries.

And you are always reaching for Charles. Well, as his Press Officer it’s your job to be by his side. When you need him to pay attention to you as you’re explaining the plan for the day, you make sure to grab him by his biceps, not letting him go until you are finished, and even then you take a couple of seconds to pull away. Every time you pass each other around the paddock, you always find a way to catch his arm, his shoulder or his waist. Even when he’s too busy and late to something and you don’t actually need him for anything, he makes time for you.

But it wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when you would not even dare to think about touching him, too shy and wanting to be professional. It was a little hard when you had to be by his side almost all day, every day. You would try to not look directly at him – impossible to do given that you needed to do your job – but then Charles started to make a few jokes to break the ice and make some conversation, started to ask about your day, he started to care. And, well, the rest is history.

New Year’s isn’t your favorite holiday, so, you spent it at home watching romcoms and went to sleep even before the clock hit midnight. Your friends weren’t happy but you promised to make it up to them. That is why you could not say no when your friends invited you to spend a few days with them on a Ski resort in Italy. Winter break was about to be over, after all. So, you showed up at the train station with all your bags and a little sleep deprived.

“I was about to call the police. I thought you were bailing on us.” Your friend says as a greeting, helping you with your bags. “You look like shit.”

“Oh, thank you, how sweet of you.” You roll your eyes but let her kiss your cheek. “I’ve been a little busy with the new season starting in a couple of weeks.”

“Let’s not talk about work,” You get on the train after her, looking for your seats and the rest of the group. “we actually told the same thing to Charles.”

You’re about to ask her what does she mean by that when you see the brown hair of Charles Leclerc. The next thing you see is his smile, dimples on display.

Since you started working with Charles as Media — then when you were promoted to PR Officer — there has not been a day you two haven't been together or communicating one way or another. So, anyone can say that becoming friends was bound to happen.

You make your way to him without a second thought.

"Hey, Charlie." Charles moves to the side, leaving the spot beside him free for you to sit. Which you immediately do.

"Are you excited?" He asks, turning his whole attention to you.

You have to look away, his green eyes looking at you so intensely that you feel he can see right through you into your soul.

"I've never skied before." You admit, cheeks flushed.

Charles' eyebrows shot up, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "Oh, you're gonna have so much fun."

The train starts moving, making you both look outside. You weren't planning on sitting with Charles, but you're not gonna stand up and leave him. Not that you actually want that.

You're about to ask him about the place you're going to spend the next days in when a yawn messes up everything.

Charles smiles softly at you, his hand patting your knee. He leaves it there for one, two, three, four seconds before removing it.

"It's not that far, really. But you could—" He clears his throat, eyes darting around. "I've been told my shoulder is the best spot to take a nap. It’s like very comfortable." Charles has a teasing but shy smile on his face, gaze finally landing on you.

You feel your face burning. You don't even need to look at yourself in a mirror to know how red your face is, probably the same color as his racing suit.

You look between his shoulder and his eyes, pretending to think about it when, in reality, you've made up your mind the second he stopped talking.

"I don't wa—"

Charles shakes his head, moving a little closer until your left side is touching his right one, not a breeze could pass between you.

You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your head rest on his shoulder. His scent hits you immediately, is calming, warm, earthy. And it reminds you of the cabin in the woods you and your family used to spend winters in when you were a kid. Surrounded by tall, green trees and a still lake.

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is Charles resting his head on top of yours.

"I can't do it. No, nope." You say, trying to move away, but the skis don't let you go that far.

"Yes, you can." Charles says from behind, startling you. You weren't expecting him to stay behind with you and your Ski instructor. "Just— let me." He tells the instructor, urging him to move out of the way.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching you the basics,” He explains casually, as if you don’t have a certified instructor waiting a few meters away.

You smile when he positions himself by your side, too busy trying to make you stand correctly to notice how fondly you're looking at him.

"So, you need to bend your knees a little," You don't know if he notices, but his hands finding your waist to help you move just like he wants you to, send a shiver down your body. You can feel his warmth even through the layers of clothes. "Just like that, yes. You're doing great." Can he shut up? If he's going to praise you every time you do something right, you're not going to survive.

You look over your shoulder when you hear your friend's voices. You catch the exact moment they see you two and stop walking to turn around and go back to where they were before.

"Now, lean forward." Charles instructs you and you follow. Trying to regulate your breathing but with Charles so close to you is an impossible task. "Amazing!" You just leaned. It’s not that hard. "I need to— um... excuse me." He whispers, lowering one of his hand to your thigh and spreading your legs a little. When Charles looks up, his cheeks are tinted with a pretty pink color. You know you're blushing too.

Charles keeps on teaching you the basics. You even move a few meters with him by your side, his hands on your waist at all times.

"You're ready." The Monégasque says, smiling. "You are a fast learner, is she not?" From the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he asks the instructor, who is immediately moving closer.

"Of course," The man says, a polite smile directed at you. "Now we can slide down the mountain. And I'm going to be by your side at all times, so, you don’t need to worry."

You nod, excited to start skiing. Finally.

"You can go, Mr. Leclerc." The Italian man says. But Charles doesn’t move, he just keeps on looking at you, hands still on your waist. At this point you feel like they belong there. “Uh, Mr. Leclerc?” He insists. This time Charles looks at him, shaking his head to rearrange his thoughts. “If you want to go, I’ll take care of her.”

“Oh, yes! Sure, yeah.” Charles pulls away, leaving the ghost of his touch behind. “You’re gonna be alright?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive, Charlie.” He makes you chuckle. “I had a pretty good instructor and I have another one ready to catch me if I fall.”

It looks like Charles wants to say something else but chooses not to and, instead, looks at you one final time before sliding down the mountain.

“So, let’s go?” Your instructor positions himself by your side in the same spot Charles was before.

He doesn’t touch you like Charles did. And you don’t feel as safe as you felt with Charles by your side.

It’s Ferrari SF-24 Launch day. Winter's break is over and Charles is back in Maranello.

Charles hasn’t seen you since yesterday evening, after spotting you having dinner with members of the PR team and, without thinking so much about it, walked into the restaurant. Someone invited him and he didn't hesitate to grab a chair and sit by your side.

It was a very pleasant dinner. And Charles didn't let anyone pay for it.

You said your goodbyes after that and you made sure to remind him that he needed to be before 8:00 AM for the launch, and to have time to go over all the details of what Charles needed to do that day.

That’s most definitely the only explanation as to why Charles is getting out of his car at 7:15 in the morning. Not because he wants to see you, of course not. It’s just because he has a lot of things to do. It’s an important day, after all.

“Good morning.” Charles greets some people of the team that are passing by, rushing to get everything ready for the launch in less than an hour.

He’s in a good mood. He just knows it’s going to be a great day. Charles also knows it’s gonna be his year.

"You're early."

Charles turns around at the sound of your voice. He finds you checking the time on your watch, a teasing smile adorning those plump, pink lips of yours.

"You said before eight."

You laugh, walking down the hallway. "Yeah, but not so early." He follows you, trying to catch up with you. "However, I'm glad you decided to show up on time, we have a lot to do."

"I wanna go back to sleep." He complains, pouting like a child.

He makes you laugh, again. Charles thinks your laugh is his favorite sound in the world. Beside the sound of the SF-24.

Charles really likes to make you laugh.

"Wait, are you laughing at me?" He pretends to be offended, and you mimic the sound of his voice, bringing your hand to your chest.

"Me? Never!"

"You sure?" He stops walking, stopping right in front of you. "Because you know what I'm gonna do if you're actually laughing at me?"

You look at him suspiciously, fighting the smile that wants to make its way into your face.

Charles takes a step towards you, making you take a step back.

"Charles, whatever you're thinking—don't."

"What? I'm not doing anything!" He sounds innocent, even raising his hands in surrender. But he's still walking towards you, shortening the distance until he's so close you can count the freckles on his face.

Before you notice what's happening, he's tickling you.

It makes you throw all the things you had on your hands to the floor. You try to pull away and make him stop, but he just keeps going.

Your laugh fills the hallway you're currently in.

But you can't take it anymore, your stomach hurting for laughing so much. It’s also only a matter of time before someone comes to see what's happenig, so, you do the only thing your brain can conjure up to make him stop: hit him. Even if it's just a little push.

You raise your arms, ready to push him and defend yourself. But Charles reflexes are good and so fast, because before you can do anything, he's grabbing your wrists stopping you.

Your laugh dies in your throat.

Charles amusement is clear on his face, eyes shining with mirth.

"You are," You take a deep breath, trying to regulate your rapid breathing. "a very bad man."

He laughs, throwing his head backwards. "I'm just defending my honor, boss."

You shake your head, throwing daggers at him with your eyes. But Charles doesn’t react at all, he just caresses the inside of your wrists with his thumb.

“I promise to behave if you don’t laugh at me again.” He pouts, and your heart does a black flip inside your chest, skipping several beats.

Hesitantly, you reach out to rest a hand on his chest, giving him a little playful push. You’re not sure if you imagine the shiver you feel under your hand or if it really happens.

You chuckle, looking straight into his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”

Charles lets go of your wrists against his will. He bends over to pick up the things you were carrying, but doesn’t give them back to you.

“If we end up getting scolded, I’m blaming you.”

Charles looks at you for what feels like hours, taking you in. He really thinks he could just watch you all day and he’d find a new freckle on your face, or a glint in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He leans in, so, so close, that feels your breath hitch. Charles thinks you’re gonna pull away for a second but you don’t make a move, you just keep looking at him with a indescribable expression.

“You can do whatever you want. I’ll take it.” He says in your ear, kissing your cheek before pulling away.

You stop breathing, all you can do is blink at him while your mind echoes his words.

“Shall we?”

Charles doesn’t wait for you, he resumes his walking anyway. It takes you a long time to snap out of it and follow him.

You can’t even remember what you are supposed to be doing today.

It’s day two of pre-season testing in Bahrain.

You’re in the middle of talking with a reporter about the questions he can ask Charles when you are interrupted by a hand being placed on your lower back. You immediately recognize the perfume.

"Hey, I was looking for you." Charles says, fingers caressing the spot between your shirt and your trousers. His calloused hand drawing patters on your lower back shouldn't make you feel as flustered as you feel. It's not the first time he does it, so why can't you just act normal?

"Hey, Charles." The reporter says, drawing the Monégasque's attention. "Can I ask you just a few questions about second day of testing?" He doesn't need to ask him, you already agreed about it.

Charles look at you, silently asking if it's okay.

"Just testing, okay?" You tell the reporter, who nods in understanding, already moving in front of Charles alongside his camera man.

Charles squeezes your waist before giving two pats on your lower back, so low that he's almost touching your ass. You eyes widen and you take a sharp intake of breath. You really try to play it cool. But you can tell Charles noticed your reaction when you see the smirk on his beautiful, stupid face.

The reporter begins with the first question, Charles' eyes only snapping to him when the man draws his attention.

You don't listen to one single question, which is, you know, an idiotic mistake because being alert of what a reporter's asking is basically your job. But you find yourself looking at Charles' lips more than one time during the six minutes the interview lasts.

You can't do nothing more than to stand there frozen in place.

The reporter thanks Charles, that much you hear, but you still can't seem to snap back to the present. What is Charles doing? He's being extra touchy lately, not that it bothers you, but you can't seem to focus in anything when he has a hand on any part of your body. Then, add that intense gaze that, apparently, has reserved for you only.

Charles is definitely going to be the death of you.

"You seem to have your head in the clouds." Charles' accented voice is what draws you back to reality.

"What?"

What he does next is definitely something you were not expecting, not now, not even in a million years.

Charles cups your chin with his right hand, thumb brushing your bottom lip. If you weren't hyper aware of every little movement, you wouldn't have felt it.

Your gaze drops to his lips and Charles has the nerve to stick his tongue out to lick his lips. They look so wet and inviting, all you need to do is move an inch closer and lean in to—

"See something you like?"

You feel your heartbeat in your ears, so loud you're pretty sure everyone in Bahrain can hear it. Charles waits for your answer as you panic, replaying his words over, and over again for minutes or hours — you don't even know.

You take Charles' hand and guide it away from your face. It takes all the willpower inside of you to let go of his hand and run away from him.

It wasn't a great start of the season. Everyone agrees on that. Even the boy stepping out of the Ferrari, who started the first race of the season in front row and had such a hard time trying to drive and secure a spot on the podium.

You are glad at least one Ferrari got there in the end. But you're not as happy as you'd be if Charles was the one standing there.

Charles takes his helmet and balaclava off, his messy hair standing in every direction while sweat runs down his face. You force yourself to look away.

He makes his way to you, given that you have his cap and rings. Charles really tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You know how disappointed he is. With himself and his team. Mostly with himself.

“Just a few questions and then you’ll be on your way to the hotel, okay?” Charles just nods, busy putting all his rings and bracelets on.

Charles feels like shit. All he wants to do is go back to the hotel and sleep, he doesn't even want to know what happened or how they can fix it for next week. He wants to sleep.

"Hey," You stand a little closer, not thinking about anything but trying to make him talk, say anything to pull him out of his head. "It's just the first race of the season. There are a lot more to go." You rub the back of his neck, feeling the hairs there stand up.

Charles closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward. So, you take it as a good sing to keep rubbing and massaging.

Charles groans when you rub between his neck and shoulder, a very sensitive spot for him. He slowly opens his eyes again, looking at you from beneath his eyelashes.

"Come on, let's finish with this and get you to bed." You tentatively slide your hand over his shoulder and left side of his body, stopping at his waist to wrap an arm around it.

For the first time since the race finished, you see a smile forming on his lips. When you make eye contact, you know he has the perfect answer for it and, for the looks of it, it's definitely going to leave you flustered.

"If you wanted me in your bed that badly, all you had to do was ask."

It definitely makes you flush furiously, but you decide not to say anything. Mostly because you don't know what to say. Charles has been saying all these things for a very long time now and you don't know what it means, what he's playing at.

You let go of Charles when you reach the reporter, moving a little to the side to give them some space. The reporter knows what to ask but you still are on high alert, she's known for asking rude and out of place questions.

At first everything goes alright, so, you use that time to answer some messages and check out some emails. Until what the woman says next, makes your heart drop.

"You say you are capable, but it is your fault alm—" You don't let her finish, you interrupt the interview immediately by standing in front of Charles, like trying to shield him from the hurtful words of an unprofessional reporter.

"I'll make sure you receive a fine for that." It's all you say before blindly reaching for Charles.

You take his hand, dragging him out of there. You don't stop for nothing, not when a reporter asks for an interview, not when fans approach Charles to ask for pictures.

You keep walking and walking until you are in front of Charles' driver room. Your heart is hammering inside your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"I'm going to talk to—"

Charles grabs your shoulders, turning you around so you're looking at him. "Don't worry about it. You know I don't care about what they say."

His words make you angry.

"But I care!" You exclaim, immediately regretting it. The corners of Charles' mouth go downwards, and he steps closer. "She deserves that fine."

"I know she deserves it and she will get it," His hands trail over your arms, stopping at your wrists for a second before holding your hands. "but right now I need a hug."

You blink up at him.

"Would you hug me?"

He doesn't need to ask twice. You are moving before you actually process his words, probably because you've been thinking about hugging him since the first time he announced over the radio how the brakes where not responding to him.

Sliding your hand around his shoulders comes like a second nature to you, like is something you've done your whole life. You don't care that he's drenched in sweat, you hide your face in the crook of his neck anyways. And it's then that you learn how much you like the mixture of his scent with the sweat of racing for over two hours.

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against his body. It's then that he learns how well you fit against his body. Like you belong there. He knows you belong in his arms.

Charles finished third.

It's his first podium of the season.

You wait by the side but he doesn't see you. He has the most pretty and bright smile on his face as he removes the balaclava from his head. He has the most pretty and bright smile when he greets and congratulates Max and Checo.

And you really think that his smiles widens when he finally looks to the side, right where you are alongside his Ferrari team.

Charles makes his way to his team. Everyone is so happy cheering for him and congratulating him for his first podium. Everyone is happy.

But no one can't he as happy as you are.

Not when he sees you for the first time and rushes to hug you. It's quick, not enough, but they're pulling him away for the post-race interview. He needs to go up on that podium and make everyone proud.

You’re pretty sure you took like a dozen pictures of Charles on the podium. The ones where he's looking down at his team are your favorites because it looks like he's looking at you.

Post-race Charles is your favorite kind of Charles. But post-race Charles on the podium... that has to be what being in heaven feels like.

You laugh as you see him approaching hospitality with his trophy and champagne, and a broad smile spread over his face.

He's surrounded by people in a matter of seconds, as wells as Ollie by his side who can't seem to stop smiling. You're very proud of them.

When you see a few reporters approaching, you take into action.

The second Charles sees you, he's forgetting about anything and everyone around him. All he wants is to hug you and tell you how well and right it felt, but there are so many people that he has to settle with you grabbing the hem of his race suit to make him walk into hospitality, away from everyone.

"Go take a shower. Your team wants to celebrate, even Carlos wants to go." You smile up at him.

You don't know how to describe the expression on his face, so, you simply don't.

He snaps out of a his trance and makes his way to his driver room, but when you call his name he stops, turning around so fast that his neck starts to hurt.

"I'm so proud of you, Charlie."

Charles doesn't care if the trophy or the champagne bottle breaks, he just let them fall to the floor and runs to you, lifting you in his arms.

You giggle, feeling light as a feather. Like you're actually on cloud nine.

"Charlie!" Andrea's voice startles the both of you.

You are forced to pull away, but Charles leaves his hand on your waist, not letting you go completely.

"Come on, hurry up! We want to celebrate."

Andrea doesn't bat an eye, he doesn't care that he found you and Charles in a compromising position — kind of? well, it definitely is unprofessional — and that you still are very close to each other.

Charles groans and lets you go. You miss his touch already.

"Don't drink too much, okay?"

"As if I would let him." Andrea says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm a grown man!" Charles screams before shutting the door of his room.

You're watching a movie in bed — wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, freshly out of the shower, with a delicious lotion on your body and feeling like a pampered baby — when there's a knock on your door.

When you open the door, you find a disheveled and out of breathe Charles standing there, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Charles?" You ask, confused.

You look to both sides of the hallway but nobody else is there.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were out celebrating."

"I was—" He says, breathing heavily. "I was but then I just — I realized that I didn't want to be there."

"Okay?" You're not getting any of what he's saying, more confused than ever. "Are you drunk?"

"No! I barely drank anything. It was just a glass."

"Then," You shrug, looking behind you into the room. "I was watching a movie. Do you... want to come in?"

You still don't know why he knocked on your door, but you are not letting him out in the hallway.

Charles accepts the invitation. Just not in the way you would've thought.

It takes you a second to notice a pair soft lips against your own. But when you finally register that you are being kissed, Charles is pulling away from you, a shy smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" You ask, trying to find some coherent words in your fuzzy brain.

Charles' face falls, shoulder slumping slightly. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry." He starts rambling, moving his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking properly. I thought—we had, I mean... You and—"

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed to take him out of his misery. That's definitely the only reason why you crashed your lips with his, pressing yourself against his body.

Charles moves quickly, walking you backwards into the room and closing the door with his foot.

You sigh into the kiss. A sigh that says finally.

"I think," You whisper against his lips, gasping for air. But Charles keeps on assaulting your lips. "we should talk ab—"

Charles groans pulling away, just enough to talk, lips brushing against yours with every breath. "We could. Or I could show you all the things I've been dreaming on doing to you, and we can talk later."

Your heart starts thumping so fast that your breath hitches in your throat. Charles takes your silence, and your body's reaction, as a yes.

This time, Charles takes his time. He cups your cheek with one hand, thumb caressing your cheekbone so softly — as if you’re made of glass and could break at any moment — and sliding lower, the pad of his finger brushing against your bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, gaze fixed on your plump lips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since…” You try try to think about it, to remember the very first time you thought about Charles being more than a friend. But it seems like it has always been that way.

“Forever.” Charles finishes for you.

Yes! Your insides scream.

“Would you let me show you?”

You frown, titling your hear to the side. “What?”

“How much I want you.”

There’s no need to verbally say yes, you find that is so much better if you show him. So, you kiss him.

Kissing Charles feels like walking in a soft, pillowy cloud, like everything is falling back into place, like things are how they always should have been.

There is warmth blossoming in your chest, fireworks exploding all around you as Charles leans in closer, lips exploring each other for the first time. You hold onto Charles' shoulder as if you're gonna fall and wake up, realize that this was just a dream. You don't want it to be a dream.

You let him guide you to the bed as his hands rest on your hips, wrinkling the bathrobe with his hands.

His lips are soft yet the kiss is demanding. Your lips part slightly, allowing Charles' tongue to slip inside and explore your mouth.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pulls away. His pupils are dilated and his breathing erratic. "You don't—" He sighs, closing his eyes as if trying and ground himself. Charles takes your hand, silently asking for permission and, when you nod, guides it to his crotch, making you feel how hard he is. "You don't even know the effect you have on me."

Charles doesn't give you time to answer, not even to think about anything but how much you want to kiss him, and feel him, and be his.

"Can I unfasten this?" He asks, lips trailing kisses down your neck. You nod your approval, but Charles shakes his head. "I need words, baby."

"Yes," You don't recognize your own voice, it's feels strange to your ears. "Yes, you can."

Charles smiles, grazing his teeth along your neck, nipping and sucking along the way. You moan when he sucks right above your pulse point.

He takes his time unfastening your bathrobe, letting it fall slowly the floor. In seconds, you're completely bare in front of him. You should feel ashamed, a part of you actually feels embarrassed to be naked in front on a man — in front of Charles. But right now, desire and longing are coursing through your veins, clouding your mind. Your body screams for Charles.

Charles hands are soft on your skin, he splays them on your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart; it makes him smile.

"Would you lay down for me?" He purrs. And who are you to say no?

With shaky legs you climb onto the bed, lying down against the pillows. You can still hear the movie playing in the background, but you couldn't care less, not right now.

You can only watch as Charles removes every piece of clothing from his body. You knew Charles was well toned, you have seen Charles without a shirt, but seeing him here in your room, in a whole different context, makes you close your legs and lift your hips from the bed, searching for something, anything that only Charles can give you.

He rubs his hands up your legs, rubbing your thighs, as he climbs on top of you. His lips find yours one more time, your breath quivering.

"So pretty." Charles grunts, basking in your beauty. It lasts only a couple of seconds because you hide behind your hands. "No need to hide, baby." He pulls your hands away, sliding them over your collarbone, stopping on your chest and grabbing your breasts.

You arch your back against his touch, moans spilling from your mouth and filling the room.

"So good, so, so good." You blurt out, getting lost in the pleasure his hands are giving you, pinching and squeezing your breasts. One of his hands is replaced for his mouth, and you have to force yourself to open your eyes to see the view of Charles on top of you, making you come undone with his mouth.

His left hand leaves your breast as his mouth keeps the assault on your breast, he slowly lowers it to part your legs, making you squirm.

You've never been this wet before, and Charles notices the moment his fingers make contact with your cunt. Charles begins to rub circles on your throbbing clit, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"Please," You beg, the only word leaving your lips over and over again.

Charles takes pity on you, knowing exactly what you need. So, he gives it to you; one of his fingers slips in, causing you to buck your hips involuntarily.

"So good for me." Charles croons, taking your lips with his own, swallowing all your moans. "You think you can take my cock, pretty girl?" He asks, slipping in another finger, pressing them upward. Your brain feels fuzzy, but in such a good way. You don't need to be asked twice, a yes leaves you lips immediately as you grind your hips desperately into his hand.

"I can, Charles—please I can take it." You moan, making Charles slow his movements.

Charles pulls out his fingers, and you whine desperately at the loss. "I got you, baby." But then a thought crosses his mind and he curses under his breath, closing his eyes for a second. "I don't—shit I don't have a condom."

You make grabby hands, making him lean forward so you can touch him. You cup his face with your hands, eyes finding his green ones. There's sweat on his forehead, his face flushed, and you think that post-race Charles and bedroom Charles are definitely battling to win first place.

"We're both clean, I know." You graze your fingers over his pecs, making him shudder. "Just—please, Charlie. I need you."

Who is he to say no to you?

The mere thought of fucking you bare is enough to send his mind reeling.

Charles aligns himself between your legs, the tip of his cock gathering your wetness and making you both moan at the feeling.

You dig your nails in his shoulder as he slowly starts to bury himself inside of you. Charles leans to kiss you, and is messy and wet, tongues and spit mix together as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling ever so slightly, which makes him moan against your mouth. So you do it again.

Charles kisses you with so much desperation, desire consuming you both. He bottoms out and you can't reciprocate the kiss anymore, not when he stars slamming his hips, setting an agonizing pace.

Charles fucks you into the bed wincing as he feels you bite his shoulder, a poor attempt of trying not to scream and let the whole hotel floor know what you are doing.

"How does it feel? Is that what you wanted, uh?" He groans, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty face.

"Yeah, feels so good, Char. So good." Your whole body is burning, you feel so deliciously filled.

Charles bends your legs, pushing them against your chest as he finds a new angle to keep on fucking you. He starts thrusting faster, holding onto your legs so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow.

It's too much. You don't even have time nor words to warn him before you are coming, clenching around Charles' cock.

"So tight. So. Fucking. Tight." Charles whispers, pace faltering as he feels his own climax approaching. He keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm.

You are a moaning, whimpering mess, and you let Charles use you as much as he likes, you let it know that over and over again.

"That's it, baby. 'm gonna come now," Those are Charles' final words as he pulls out, pumping himself a few more times until he's painting your chest with his cum.

Charles plops down on the bed next to you, both panting and completely exhausted.

"Are you okay?" He asks in a hoarse voice.

You turn to look at him, fingers playing with his cum on your chest. The only thing you can do is nod, too exhausted to even to talk.

"What? Did I fuck your brains out?" Charles teases, leaning in to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. It's so innocent and soft, the total opposite of what you did just moments ago.

"Shut up!" You breathe out, giggling. There is still a buzzing in your ears and a tingling sensation in your cunt. But you feel good.

"Come on," He says, standing up and reaching for your hands.

You frown, standing on shaky legs. He teases you some more and you end up pushing him away.

"What are we doing?"

"Taking a bath," He explains, tugging at your hand. "We need to clean you up."

"I just took a shower, this is all your fault." You complain, his green eyes boring into you.

"You liked it." It's not a question.

He tugs at your hand again and you follow, you really would follow Charles to the end of the world. Charles can't hide the big, stupid smile on his face. "You said you were watching a movie, so, we are going to watch a movie."

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader

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wannab-urs · 11 months ago

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Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

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queerfables · 1 year ago

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Why all the crowd scenes look the same, aka: Something is WRONG in Soho

I'm not even gonna tease and draw this out because it's so cool it doesn't need the fanfare. Ready?

Season 2 takes place over the course of 5 days. During that time, most of the passersby in Soho - maybe even all of them - stay exactly the same. It's the same people every day, wearing the exact same clothes, and they wander through the neighbourhood in paths that don't make any sense. You won't be able to unsee it. I can't believe it's taken us this long to realise.

Don't believe me? Rewatch the scene from 2x03, I Know Where I'm Going where Shax confronts Crowley outside the bookshop, appearing in a series of different guises. Pay attention to the people going past.

I've marked out five people you see on screen when Crowley first exits the bookshop at 39:37:

Numbers 1, 2 and 3 are following the path right. Number 4 follows the path left. Number 5 crosses the road.

Here the five people are again, at 40:19, when Crowley goes to return to the bookshop:

Number 5 is still visible in the distance, in the direction she walked in. This makes sense! But numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4 are rounding the same corner they just passed. It's as though 1, 2 and 3 all decided to turn and head back the way they came just 40 seconds ago, and number 4 has circled the block to join them.

This on its own would be super weird, but they're not the only people to do that in this scene. The man in the purple sweater from the first picture crosses the road, then appears back next to the bookshop, then starts walking back the way he came again.

Here's the part that made me absolutely certain, though. At 40:05, a man wearing an orange hoodie with blue sleeves walks past Crowley, who is heading towards the bookshop entrance.

The camera cuts to a view from behind Crowley, and a moment later, at 40:08...

He reappears in front of Crowley and walks past him again.

It's such a distinctive outfit, there's no mistaking it. They are absolutely fucking with the background characters and they are absolutely doing it on purpose.

Your turn. There are at least three other characters in this scene who pass by multiple times. Watch it again and try to spot them.

This scene is really chaotic and obvious, but the phenomena I'm talking about is much bigger than just one scene. Let's go back to the first thing I said: the background characters don't change. All our leads do. Maggie and Nina wear distinctive outfits, clearly demarcating each new day. Even Crowley and Aziraphale, who in season 1 were like cartoon characters with wardrobes full of identical clothing, vary their looks. Crowley changes his (very subtly) each day; Aziraphale is less rigid on timing, but he has a few different coats that he switches between. The background characters, on the other hand, wear the same outfits every single day. They walk by on the street but they never actually seem to have a destination. They sit in the coffee shop or pub and don't eat or drink anything, and nearly everyone leaves together exactly on closing time. It's eerie.

For reference's sake, here's a rough timeline of season 2, with pictures of Maggie and Nina's outfits to show the passing of time. I had to outsource this section because my post was too image heavy, lol. The main point I wanted to make is that five days go by.

Five days, and all the same faces keep showing up in the background, and almost none of them change their clothes. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but there's no way it's an accident. It might, in fact, be a game changer. To me this is proof positive that something is not as it seems. I've been a massive Clue skeptic, adamant that I'd only be convinced by the most unambiguous evidence, and honestly? This is enough to move the dials. It's too big for me to ignore. Whatever grand explanation of Good Omens we come up with has to account for this. I don't have it yet, but my current working theories are that Crowley and Aziraphale are under some seriously heavy surveillance, that time warping is involved, or that reality itself is not what it seems.

It would take a really long time for me to go through all of the background characters who turn up over and over but I do want to show you what I'm talking about. To wrap up, then, I'm going to pick out some memorable characters and walk you through a few of their appearances through the week. I highly recommend looking out for this yourself on your next rewatch and seeing how many other characters you can recognise.

Yellow Skirt

The first person I kept coming back to as being not quite right. You probably remember her from the first episode - she's the one who waves and walks past Maggie and Nina the night they're locked in together. Incidentally, she's also Person Number 3 in the scene with Shax.

Day 1 (2x01 - 36:20):

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:03)

Day 3 (2x03 - 06:36)

Day 5 (2x06 - 30:00)

Coolest Leather Jacket In The World

It's not so easy to recognise people wearing lots of nondescript dark colours, but I love his hair and his jacket, so he stood out to me. I think there might be a lot more people who are wearing fairly nondescript clothes who I just can't recognise from episode to episode.

Day 2 (2x02 - 16:44)

Day 4 (2x04 - 41:20)

Day 5 (2x06 - 29:20)

Dressed In Mustard

Ms Mustard shows up everywhere. If you want to see what I mean about their paths not making sense, pay attention when she comes on screen, because she'll often show up a few times in succession and walk very purposefully to nowhere in particular. The thing that she is doing, essentially, is behaving like an extra in a tv show. Which of course she is, but you're supposed to make that invisible by not having the same person go back and forth in the same scene, or changing up their outfit each in-universe day to give the sense time is passing. Not doing that is a really deliberate choice.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:37)

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:03)

Day 3 (2x03 - 01:49)

Day 3 (2x03 - 37:07)

Day 5 (2x06 - 29:59)

Swishy Dress

This character shows up a lot in the first episode. I've struggled to find her in later episodes, though. None of the characters seem to follow the same patterns or show up to equal extents each day, which makes me think this isn't a straightforward time loop. I haven't actually cross referenced character appearances to in world times, though. Possibly this is a project for someone who's more across the time-related shenanigans than me.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:43)

Day 3 (2x03 - 07:01)

Yellow Vest

I've only seen this guy a handful of times, always around the French restaurant. I wonder if there's significance to that.

Day 2 (2x02 - 41:06)

Day 4 (2x05 - 12:49)

Fuzzy Blue Coat

Another background character who shows up frequently. The blue doesn't stand out quite as much as the yellows and reds some characters wear, but it's very distinctive.

While we're getting a lot of shots of the street, it's worth noting that I'm pretty sure the vehicles we see are also just the same few cars repeating each day. A lot of them are in neutral silvers and monochrome, but there's a couple of blue cars, one red, and one black and white that I'm fairly sure I've seen over and over through the season.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:45)

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:04)

Day 3 (2x03 - 02:00)

Day 5 (2x06 - 40:10)

Day 5 (2x06 - 48:56)

Day 5 (2x06 - 50:06)

One final note: Whatever this is, Nina's employee who you see in the background at the coffeeshop sometimes isn't affected by it. He's wearing different outfits each day. On the other hand, some of the other shopkeepers do seem affected. I'm fairly sure Mr Brown and Mrs Sandwich wear the same outfits a few different days, only changing because of Aziraphale at the ball.

And that's it! Thanks for reading and I hope your mind is blown as much as mine is.

EDIT:

Hey I don't mind anyone pointing out production reasons that this might be the case or disagreeing with my analysis (over-analysis, some might say 😉). Please be kind about it, though. I'm not ignorant of the practical limitations involved in film making, but some of these costumes were really distinctive in a way I thought might be intended to draw attention.

For those of you who do find this theory convincing, I feel I should mention that I was working under the assumption that this stuff would have taken a few days to film, even filming it all together. That would strongly suggest that the actors were deliberately costumed the exact same way over multiple days of shooting, which made me think it had to be purposeful. @coranax was kind enough to point out, though, that behind the scenes videos said the extras were filmed separately to the main actors because of Covid protocols. In that case, they could have done it in just one day and that weakens my confidence in its intentionality.

Finally, all of my points about the scene with Shax in 2x03 stand. That was not a case of accidental continuity errors, it was really elegantly choreographed to enhance the tension in the scene. I say that with confidence because the extras are doing exactly what Shax is doing: circling Crowley, appearing where he doesn't expect them, creating a whirlwind sense of being off balance and out of control. I think it's really cool and effective, whether there's a deeper meaning to it or not.

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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stromblessed · 1 year ago

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Mizu's spectacles, and the levels of her disguise

In drafting some more Blue Eye Samurai meta posts, I find myself writing out the comparisons between what Mizu can and cannot hide about herself, and how that affects how she moves through the world.

Like, I get the jokes about Mizu's glasses, if only color contacts had existed back then, etc. etc., and I think (hope) that most viewers don't take the glasses jokes seriously, as in "I don't care about the suspension of disbelief because BES is a cartoon." But I wanted to write these thoughts out anyway without burying them in a text post about something else.

I think the points I'm going to lay out here are viewed very differently by different people, so please feel free to add to this post, reply, or put your thoughts in the tags!

Not only do Mizu's glasses not actually help her that much, there's surely more to Mizu's mixed race appearance than just the color of her eyes.

In my view, this was pointed out in episode 1:

I'm willing to bet most of us were expecting young Taigen to say "blue eyes," not "ROUND eyes."

Obviously this is still about Mizu's eyes, but not even spectacles can hide their shape.

I don't think the show is obligated to point out everything about Mizu's face that isn't quite as Japanese as the people around her expect. Though the creators have said that they specifically designed Mizu - and her clothes - to read both as "white" and as "Japanese," as well as both male and female. I think there's more about Mizu's features that read as "white" than just her eyes.

This is where my own headcanons start entering the picture, but it's my impression that people can just tell that Mizu looks different, whether or not they can put a finger on exactly how.

There's the little girl who looks at Mizu and then hides on the way into Kyoto:

When there's more to your face you'd like to cover up than just your eyes, big hats are a big help!

By the way, most of these examples have to come from the first half of the season, since by the second half, either Mizu is too preoccupied with fighting henchmen, or everyone Mizu is facing knows who she is already, and she therefore has no reason to hide her mixed race identity.

It's worth mentioning that the mere fact that Mizu has to hide multiple aspects of her identity - her mixed race and her sex - results in her having to choose clothes that really, really cover her up, which doesn't win her any favors either:

(Zatoichi reference, anyone?)

If it were as easy as, for example, tying her glasses to her head and wa-lah, nobody would ever know she was half-white - then (1) Mizu would've just done that long ago, and (2) Mizu wouldn't be so on guard and on tenterhooks 100% of the time the way she's depicted in the show, even when her glasses are on.

Her spectacles sure don't help her in the brothel, which is full of observant women who are trying to seduce her, meaning they get good long looks at her:

Mizu never takes her glasses off, but they still send a woman to her who has light eyes, thinking that must be what will interest a blue-eyed man:

No wonder Mizu gets mad after this, lol

So Mizu never takes her spectacles off in the brothel, it's dimly lit inside, and the women can still tell that she has blue eyes. I'm getting the sense that Mizu putting on her spectacles isn't a guarantee that people suddenly can't tell that she looks different.

And yet no one spots that she's female.

Mizu can hide her breasts, can wear her hair in the right style, can hide what's between her legs, can walk and talk and behave like a man - and she's been doing it for almost her entire life, to the point that not only is she very good at it, but the threat of being found out as female is deadly, but isn't presented in the show as omnipresent.

Let me explain.

She threatens Ringo for nearly saying the word "girl" out loud, because while she's constantly ostracized for being mixed race, being a woman traveling without a chaperone, carrying a sword, and disguised as a man will get her killed or flogged or arrested or some combination of these things.

But in addition, it's been drilled into her since she was a child that if she is discovered as female, the combination of her being mixed race and female will identify her as someone extremely specific, someone known to some bad people, and she will be killed:

I think of it as Mizu thinking to herself, "Being found out as mixed race means I'm treated badly. Being found out as mixed race and a woman means I'm dead."

Mizu's hair is cut as a child. But she isn't made to wear a big hat, or cover her eyes somehow, or anything like that. Because hiding her sex is a more successful endeavor than hiding her race.

Ringo finds out she's female by accident, but once Mizu accepts the fact that he won't rat her out, she relaxes pretty early on in the season. Because the threat of being found out as female is mitigated pretty much 99.9%, since Mizu has gotten so good at being a man. And also, because most of the time, people see what they want to see. Even if Mizu's face makes her stand out as "not 100% Japanese," no one in the world of BES looks at Mizu's clothes, her bearing, her sword, hears her voice, and will ever in a million years conclude that she is a woman, because expectations around gender roles in the Edo period were so rigid and so widely enforced.

One detail that proved this to me is after the Four Fangs fight:

Ringo takes off Mizu's clothes so he can stitch her up, then leaves her clothes off even after he's done. He doesn't even throw her cloak over her as a blanket or anything. There's a little a straw (pallet?) as a divider there on the left, but anyone could just peek around it and see Mizu and her chest bindings. (I think it's mostly there as a windbreaker.)

And Taigen is right there, but he doesn't give a shit:

Opinions probably vary hugely on this, but my impression is that because the show doesn't make any kind of deal about Taigen being in the room with Mizu here, my guess is that Mizu isn't in any danger of Taigen thinking she's female. Even when I watched the show for the first time, I assumed that Taigen had seen Mizu out of her clothes here, and that he thought nothing of it.

Eat your heart out, Li Shang (Mulan 1998). I actually do think that this scene is a direct and purposeful side-eye to that movie, lol

There's obviously some nuance to how "severe" being mixed race is compared to how "severe" being a woman is for Mizu:

After all, Swordfather can't bear to listen to Mizu confess to being a woman.

So a Japanese man can go wherever he wants, whenever he wants in BES. A Japanese woman has limited options: marriage, religion, or a brothel. A mixed-race man is an eyesore in this story. A mixed-race woman is a death sentence.

May as well eliminate the female aspect, and do what you can about the mixed-race aspect. Because that's just realistic.

Meaning Mizu can avoid the strictures Edo society places on women. But she can't avoid the repercussions that come with being mixed race. And I truly don't think that it's just because "there's no brown contacts yet."

#blue eye samurai #mizu #racism #bes #I am truly disappointed that we didnt get absolute confirmation that Taigen saw Mizus bound chest and just didnt think it was a big deal #but I still think that scene is making a point #again I dont think most people take the glasses jokes seriously #but its been bothering me ever since I first saw them #I really dont think Mizu just looks like a 100 percent Japanese person...... with blue eyes #and I bet that will be made even more obvious when she goes to London where Im sure she will meet plenty of people #who are more than happy to point out their observations to her #also I ran out of room in this post to go into it but this is also what made Mizus marriage an absolutely doomed prospect #Mikio talks about wanting to find the right creature for his lord and well... a mixed race woman is the right creature huh #he just needed a little push imo #getting kind of sad at the thought that Ringo is the only person in Mizus life who knows her whole identity AND accepts it wholly

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ts1m1kas · 4 months ago

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Original Ask: I would like to request a Jenson Button x driver!reader they have been rivals since their karting days and Jenson has been crushing on reader for years. He flirts with her every chance he gets but she's completely oblivious to it since she thinks he's just doing it to distract her from the race and she hates him for it since she's not taken seriously by the drivers and reporters because of it. So Jensen wins the championship and he throws a big party with the team. Reader attends to congratulate him so they partied and they have a heart to heart conversation in which they finally confess their feelings to each other.. (anonymous)

Word Count: 1120 words

(author's note: i can't tell if this is bad or not, i've been slightly stressed out due to my job so i hope the jenson girlies enjoy this 🥹)

When Jenson began carting at a young age, he thought he would walk away with trophies and medals. He did get both of those things, but he also developed a crush on a girl who was convinced he hated her.

Y/N L/N was the bane of Jenson’s existence. He would say his rival if anyone asked him what she was to him, mainly because he was far too embarrassed to admit that he was completely and utterly in love with her.

Both Jenson and Y/N had successful carting careers and, despite their rivalry, made it to Formula 1 at the same time. Jenson signed with Williams and Y/N signed for Red Bull. Although the pair were much older now, their childhood competitiveness had followed them into F1 which caused many disputes between the two drivers.

Their careers in motorsports flourished and Jenson moved to Brawn GP, where he would unknowingly win the Championship. But the longer Y/N stayed in Formula 1, the more unbearable the reporters became. Question after question about her and Jenson, their ‘relationship’ and if being a female driver was more difficult.

It was the final race of the 2009 season and the Abu-Dhabi air was stifling. Y/N stood outside the Red Bull garage, holding a microphone for the interview that was about to begin.

“So, final race of the season. Are you nervous?” The interviewer asked.

“Well, I’m nervous before every race if I’m honest. The last race of the season is worse though because the stakes are always so much higher.”

“How do you feel about Jenson’s position in the Championship? If he finishes in the points this race he’s pretty much guaranteed a win?”

“What does Jenson have to do with me? I’m glad he’s performing well but that doesn’t affect me at all. I’m my own driver, not an extension of Jenson.”

“Right, sorry I apologise.”

At that moment Jenson walked past and was caught by the cameras. When he realised it was Y/N being interviewed he turned around and smiled at her.

“You look gorgeous today Y/N, it's gonna be hard for me to concentrate on the race knowing you look that good!” Jenson shouted over at her, throwing her a wink at the same time.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the spot, she knew all too well what was coming.

“Do you think it’s fair that your gender can become a distraction for the other drivers, especially ones who have important races coming up?”

Jenson was mortified, he didn’t realise that his stupid joke was going to cause the interviewer to ask such an inappropriate question.

“I was only joking around, she isn’t actually a distraction to us. Y/N deserves to be here as much as the rest of us-”

“I’m finished with this interview, thank you for having me,” Y/N stated, passing the microphone back to the interviewer. She disappeared into the garage, leaving Jenson outside with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Before they knew it, all the drivers sat in their cars, lined up and ready to race. The lights went out slowly and they set off. It was an exciting race throughout and by the end, Sebastian came out on top, followed by Y/N and then Jenson.

However, the amount of points gave Jenson his first Championship win, and he couldn’t be happier. Of course, all the journalists, reporters and interviewers forgot to congratulate Y/N on her P2 finish. She was overlooked. Again.

Celebrations were in full force for Jenson’s win. His house was packed with drivers and team staff and the sound of music and cheers filled the room. Drinks were flowing and the evening air was cool as it seeped into the room through the open patio doors.

Y/N had turned up to the party, but only because Sebastian had forced her. Part of her was cheering for Jenson but another part of her remembered how he had toyed with her feelings all those years. She moved through the masses of bodies and grabbed a drink.

Eventually, the pounding of the music and heat from the people became too much and Y/N headed outside onto the balcony. She took a deep breath, allowing the bitter air to fill her lungs. Gazing at the sun that had begun to set, she didn’t realise she was no longer alone on the balcony.

“Congrats on P2, you drove incredibly,” A voice said, cutting into the silence.

Y/N spun her head around, her face dropping when she realised it was Jenson.

“Oh, thanks. I should be congratulating you though. How does it feel to be a World Champion?”

“Pretty good, I’m not gonna lie. While I’m here, I just want to apologise for earlier. I didn’t think before I spoke and I didn’t realise that my stupid, distasteful joke would make you be treated like that.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it. It’s nothing new, questions like that have been asked since our karting days.”

“It’s still not right. Especially when everyone thinks my feelings for you are just a joke.”

Jenson froze after he realised what he said. Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“You- You like me? You’re telling me that you’ve been telling the truth all along?”

Jenson scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but yeah. I like you. I have since our first kart race. I knew the minute we built up our rivalry that I wanted to be more than friends. But all this time I thought you hated me. So I kept quiet-”

“Jenson.”

“I didn’t know how to speak to you about it. I also thought you would reject me and I didn’t want the media to scrutinise you more than they already do. I just-”

“Jenson!”

Jenson stopped his rambling at the sound of Y/N’s raised voice.

“I like you too. I can’t believe I thought you were pretending to like me all along.”

Staring intently at each other, Jenson leaned down and closed the gap between the pair. He captured Y/N’s lips in a soft kiss and she smiled into it. When they finally pulled away, Y/N wrapped her arms around Jenson’s middle and squeezed, enveloping him in a hug.

Jenson leaned his head onto Y/N’s and the pair stayed tangled in the warm embrace of each other as the sun finally disappeared and was replaced by the moon. Stars twinkled in the sky, but nothing shined brighter than the smile on Jenson’s face as he looked down at the girl he had pined for all those years.

#f1 #fanfiction #fanfic #f1 drivers #jenson button x reader #jenson button #jenson button blurb #jenson button imagine #by ts1m1kas

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g1rld1ary · 7 months ago

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hi baby !! 🧡

im sick rn and ive looked alllllll over and i couldnt find anything could you write a sickfic for luke from jatp where the female!reader gets sick ? reader is his girl 😽

im doing the same prompt on my blog because im so obsessed with the idea of sickfics and im such a luke girl

so you probably wont have much trouble figuring out who sent you this later if you look it up LMFAO 😍😍

pshsshssh thank you !! 🌼🌼

sick days ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

➻ word count: 1905

➻ content: established relationship, implied aged up to early 20ish, pet names (love, baby, my girl), tooth rotting fluff

➻ obsessed with this request!!! i've never written a sickfic before so hope this is ok!! hope ur feeling better lovey xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your body ached. That was the only thing you could feel. Actually, that was incorrect; you also had a headache and a snotty nose and you were pretty sure your temperature could boil water. In essence, you felt awful. You’d toughed it out for as long as you could, making yourself a steaming hot tea and cozying into the sofa for the night. It wasn’t making you feel any better. So, in a last ditch effort of saving your night, you dialled your boyfriend.

You smiled as his croaky, half-asleep voice came through your phone, murmuring your name.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, brows furrowed as you checked the time, gasping when it read 1:45am. You thought it was still closer to eleven.

“Don’t worry about it, couldn’t sleep anyway,” Luke lied and you frowned, though he couldn’t see it through the screen.

“No, it’s dumb. I’m sorry I woke you up. Night, Luke.” You moved to hang up when Luke interrupted you.

“Baby, wait! Clearly something’s bothering you. What’s up?” You smiled despite your discomfort, your boyfriend always boosting your mood without even trying.

“Nothing,” You pouted in your puddle of blankets, “Just feel sick.” You could feel Luke’s pity without him saying anything and weren’t sure whether to be indignant or grateful.

“Can you stay awake for twenty more minutes, love?”

“I guess so, why?” You asked, turning the TV back on as something to keep you from sleeping.

“I love you,” Was all he said, hanging up on you abruptly. You smiled softly to yourself, willing your eyes to stay open as you tried to focus on the sitcom in front of you.

You were just dozing off when you heard your apartment door unlocking and the brief shuffling of feet in the entryway. Your grin brightened, the familiar butterflies returning to your chest, even after months of being with Luke. The man in questioned approached you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked up at him.

“Luke, it’s 2 am, what are you doing here?” You asked despite the obvious answer, opening your shield of blankets for him to crawl onto the sofa with you. He made you wait, tipping out his reusable shopping bag onto the coffee table in front of you. There lay a pint of ice cream, tea bags, painkillers, and your favourite chocolate. Suddenly you weren’t sure if the heat on your face was fever or blush. Silently you held your arms out, and Luke dove into them with all the enthusiasm of a child, peppering your faces with all the kisses he could manage.

“Couldn’t let my girl be sick on her own,” He mumbled, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, eliciting a bout of giggles from you.

“My very own Prince Charming,” You grinned, pecking his temple. After a gratuitous moment of cuddling Luke peeled himself off you, taking on the role of concerned caretaker. He was quick to dart into the kitchen, turning the kettle on for your tea and grabbing a spoon for the ice cream he’d bought. Sitting himself in the vacant spot next to you he fixed his focus onto the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked, pulling the lid off the ice cream tub for you.

“How I Met Your Mother, I’ve just reached season seven.” Luke gasped dramatically, holding his hands over his chest in faux outrage.

“You continued without me? How could you?” You laughed at his accusatory tone, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Lukey. You have to forgive me though, I’m sick,” You punctuated the statement with a pathetic cough, smiling as Luke easily settled down.

You watched in silence for a bit, both giggling at the stupid jokes. After a while you felt Luke looking at you seriously, but chose not to think much of it, continuing to tune in to the show. When he pulled out a thermometer, you raised an eyebrow. Luke wasn’t usually one to be so prepared, but you let him rest it on your tongue nonetheless. When it read a concerningly high number Luke frowned, silently popping the painkillers out of their packaging, feeding you with the insistence of a fed up mother hen.

“Why aren’t you a nurse?” You joked, swallowing the medication with a mouthful of melted ice cream, “Rockstar be damned.”

“Only for you, love.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you fretting over Reggie,” You laughed, and Luke couldn’t help but join you.

“That’s fair. You’re my favourite, though.”

“How unexpected.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to his jaw, revelling in the dumb grin that crept onto his face.

You both settled into silence, you leant into Luke’s side, his hands rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, never quite able to stay in it for one reason or another. The blanket was too hot, you were cold without it, your head hurt. Nothing was quite right and all you wanted to do was sleep for as long as humanly possible.

“Luke?” You whispered, in case he was already asleep.

“Yes, love?” He replied, shifting his position to look down at you. You faltered for a moment, overwhelmed with the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Will you play for me?” Luke was up in a second, arranging you on the sofa. You giggled as he manhandled you, lying you down and wrapping you tightly in your blanket so you couldn’t escape. You teased him about being his captive audience as he tuned his guitar quickly, never being so grateful for his perfect pitch.

Without anymore holdups Luke began to play, plucking softly at the strings to create a melody that filled the air of your little apartment. His playing was like a siren call, pressing weights on your eyelids until you could barely stand to keep them open. You watched him while you could, admiring the way the faint light from the kitchen lamp made him look like an Adonis, his hair illuminated in gold and his features accentuated by the shadows. You couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Luke Patterson, heartthrob of Julie and the Phantoms was your dorky, adoring boyfriend who would make supermarket trips in the middle of the night for you. Who had your favourite ice cream memorised and your key attached to his, so he could come see you whenever he missed you (which was pretty much always).

Despite the various aches and pains that had overtaken your body, the only thing you could feel as you drifted off to sleep was the burning ball of light in your chest, a chemical mixture of joy and love and gratitude, overtaking your senses one by one until you were asleep, dreams filled of beautiful images of your boyfriend.

When you woke up the next morning, you figured out it wasn’t morning at all. Luke had evidently switched off your phone’s alarm after you’d fallen asleep, and it was well into early afternoon when you’d arisen. To his credit though, the sleep had done you some good, and you felt much less like walking death after an intense sleep.

You untangled yourself from the knit blanket, your feet wobbly on the hard wood floors. You had serious post-nap daze, and wandered through your flat looking for your boyfriend. The poorly made sheets on your actual bed told you where Luke slept last night — or this morning, more accurately — you smiled at the way he’d arranged your stuffed animals.

Stuck to the fridge under your New York City magnet was a note from Luke, explaining he had to go to rehearsal but he’d be back later to check on you. You pulled the paper off, travelling back to your room to put the note in your ‘Luke’ box, adding to the collection of notes and drawings he’d given you inconsequentially that you’d held onto.

As the afternoon ticked by you’d gotten onto your computer, figuring that although you were still ill you should try and get something productive done. You were armed with your box of tissues as you got started on an assignment you had due at the end of the week, and slipped your headphones on to get into the headspace.

You screamed as a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, quickly dissolving into giggles as you realised it was only Luke, back from rehearsal.

“Your voice still sounds scratchy, baby, how are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Better, promise. Tomorrow I’ll probably go to class if I get another good night’s sleep.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, and you felt your insides melting all over again. You closed the laptop, knowing you weren’t going to get much more done now that Luke was with you.

You spent the evening together, ordering in pizza from the place around the corner and getting slightly wine drunk as Luke told you all about his earlier rehearsal and the antics of his band. He sang you part of the new song he and Julie had written and you applauded dramatically, only stopping when you broke into a coughing fit.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked when you grew tired again, cuddling up to him like a cat.

“Barbie?” You asked hopefully, looking up at him with wide eyes. Luke sighed dramatically, but you knew he was just pretending not to like the animated movies you’d grown up on.

“Only if it’s Island Princess,” He offered and you nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you settled in for the movie night, Luke getting much more into the movie as it went on, as he always did. By the end you were singing duets — your voice considerably less pleasing than his, especially due to your illness — Luke taking on the role of the prince letting you be Ro.

As the credits rolled you felt your eyes closing again, and you felt eerily like you did as a younger girl, falling asleep on the couch after a Barbie movie. This was better though, because now you had Luke next to you. He’d taken his role as big spoon extremely seriously, and had all but become one with the couch, pressing into the back as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You shifted your position to face him, watching his face relax into contentedness as he tried to doze off to sleep. Feeling you watch him he cracked one eye open, mouth producing a dumb grin that made butterflies erupt in your chest.

“What?” He asked, but you got the distinct impression he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Nothing,” You lied, but gave in easily, “You’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty too. Now go to sleep.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Kay, goodnight Lukey. I love you.”

“Love you too, my girl. So much.” His answer was muffled by him pressing his face into your hair to pull you closer, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even as sleep enveloped you.

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bloatedandalone04 · 7 months ago

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The Lucky Ones - Part 2

➪the one where you and rick reunite after the events at the prison.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of digging around in the undead, guns, takes place in season 5

Word Count: 3k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Judith was crying again, and no matter what Tyreese did, she didn’t seem to want to stop. “C’mon, baby girl,” he huffed, bouncing her in his arms.

You look over from your spot on a fallen tree, your fingers tangled in Lizzie’s messy hair. It was clear that Tyreese was having a hard time calming the baby down, and while it was a bit amusing, being quiet right now was a priority. “Hey,” you call out to him. “Want me to take her?”

“Please,”

You laugh quietly and get up, squeezing Lizzie’s shoulder before making your way over to Tyreese. “Come here, sweet girl,” you coo when you take Judith from him. “Shh, you’re okay. You’re alright.”

Tyreese huffed again as he moved to sit next to the small fire you had started, confused at how you managed to get Judith to stop crying within just a few seconds. “I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered, poking the fire with a stick. “You had kids before all this?”

“No,” you answer, brushing Judith’s hair away from her forehead before taking the bottle from Mika. “I was a nurse. Spent a year looking after my mom before everything went to hell. She was like a kid in a way. I used to rely on her, then suddenly she relied on me. I had to feed her, bathe her, and dress her. Never thought that would’ve prepared me for something like this.”

Tyreese grunted, setting the stick aside and looking over at you. “You’re a natural,”

You smile at that, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You’d been one of the many people that have been taking care of Judith since she was born, but being one of the three to do it now was something else entirely.

When the Governor tried taking control of the prison and caused what could only be described as a riot, you were left behind with Tyreese, Mika and Lizzie. The older sister actually ended up saving both you and Tyreese when you were backed into a corner, and when you tried to convince them to go find Rick, you were outvoted. You were outvoted by a couple of fucking kids.

So you fled with them into the trees and had been walking through the forests ever since. You would give anything to be able to be with him right now, but instead you were left looking after his kid. You didn’t mind, but you just wished you knew whether he was okay and alive or not.

Carol took your spot on the tree and began braiding Lizzie’s hair as you hummed softly to Judith. She was beginning to fall asleep in your arms, and soon enough, Carol, Lizzie and Mika were all sleeping while Tyreese took the first watch. “You want me to take her? So you can get some sleep?”

“No, I got her,” you mumble and move to sit next to him.

You sit in silence for a while, with Tyreese adding sticks to the fire every so often and you gently rocking Judith. Your mind drifted back to Rick and Carl and Maggie and Glenn. Were they okay? Were they alive?

The last thing you saw was Rick getting shot in the leg then everything went to shit. Guns went off and fires were started, and you lost sight of pretty much everyone besides Tyreese. You wanted to run out to Rick, to help him, but there were just too many people and too many walkers. You didn’t stand a chance. With everything in you, you were praying to anyone who might be listening that he is still alive, and that he’s looking for you.

Like how you’re looking for him.

You stare at the fire as you trace random shapes onto Judith’s arm with your thumb, lost in your own head. “Everything happened so fast,” you murmur, catching Tyreese’s attention. “Just a few days ago we were all safe and together. Now we don’t even know if everyone’s still alive.”

“We just have to keep looking,” he said, and you knew he was trying to comfort you, but you felt hopeless right now.

“I wanted to go back for him,” you confess. “When we were leaving. I was going to go back, but I couldn’t get to him. I couldn’t find him.”

Tyreese looked over at you in surprise. “None of us could get to him,” he assured you. “Rick is strong. He’s stronger than any of us. I know he made it out, him and Carl both.”

There was no way to be sure of that, but you appreciated his words nonetheless. “I remember when I first saw him at that store back in Atlanta. Glenn can tell you that I was in love with him the second I laid eyes on him. It felt like nothing else mattered, then he found his wife and son and I was sure nothing would happen between us.”

Tyreese let out a quiet laugh, leaning back on the log and taking off his hat. “Look at you now,” he teased. “That man is head over heels for you.”

That was true.

Not long after you broke things off with Shane, Rick and Lori began having some issues. They split up long before she found out she was pregnant with Judith, and around her three month mark was when Rick finally allowed himself to begin something with you.

That something turned into an official relationship, and you’d been almost inseparable ever since.

He told you to stay with Daryl and Carl when the Governor and his posse showed up, but then you got separated from both of them and wound up defending Tyreese in a different part of the prison yard.

You smile at the memory of the first kiss you shared with Rick. Then your heart twisted a bit. You missed him so much. You missed everyone.

“Feels like forever ago,” you whisper. “I hope they’re okay. I hope he’s okay.”

Tyreese gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’ll find each other. Right now you just need to focus on looking after his little girl and worry about the rest later,”

You knew he was right, so you gave him a tight smile and nod.

“What do you think Y/n is doing right now?” Carl asked as he sat on the couch next to Rick. He dug through the stale cereal bag and gathered some in his palm, tossing them into his mouth afterwards.

“I don’t know,” Rick answered, leaning forward on his knees as he tried to think of where to go from here. The couch was pressed against the door, a safety measure he deemed necessary since the lock had been broken off it.

His face was sore and still a bit bruised, and the days he’s spent on this couch felt like a bit of a waste when he could be out there looking for his group. Looking for you.

“Do you think she’s by herself?” Carl continued to ask him questions about you that Rick had no idea the answers to. He was losing hope as the days went on, though a very small part of him believed that you were out there somewhere, and that maybe you or someone else had managed to grab Judith on the way out of the prison yard.

“I don’t know,” he answered his son’s question with a stern voice, trying to tell him to be quiet without actually saying the words.

“Do you think she made it out?”

“I don’t know, Carl,” Rick nearly yelled, causing Carl to jump slightly. Rick lowered his voice and looked back at the floor once he saw the way Carl reacted to his outburst. “I don’t know what she’s doing, I don’t know who she’s with and I don’t know if she made it out. Just stop asking me questions that I don’t know the answers to, please.”

Honestly, Rick couldn’t stand the thought of you not having made it out of the prison. He left you with Daryl and Carl, and now he was with Carl with no sign of you or Daryl, and he felt lost.

Carl had told him that he and Daryl got separated, and how he saw you with Tyreese last, but that was all the information he had. He didn’t know where you went after that, and he didn’t know if you had managed to get out of the area you had been backed into.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Carl mumbled, setting the bag aside and leaning back against the couch. “I’m sure we’ll see her again, we just need to start looking.”

“Yeah,” Rick agreed, spinning his wedding band around on his finger. He had no idea why he is still wearing it, him and Lori are very much done and over with and had been for a long time now, so why was he still wearing his ring?

He looked down at the gold band, then without a second thought, he slid it off his finger and put it in his pocket, and thankfully Carl didn’t notice him doing that. He was still mourning his mom, and still getting used to you and Rick, the last thing needed was to see his dad move on completely from her.

“Yeah,” Rick said again. “We’ll start looking for her. We’ll start looking for all of them.”

He couldn’t lose you. He already lost so many people, and he was still recovering from watching the nicest man he had ever met get almost decapitated. He couldn’t lose you too.

When Carol gestured for you to dig around inside the walker she just put down, you didn’t hesitate like you normally would. You didn’t get grossed out or feel nauseous. How could you?

Rick might be alive.

Michonne and Carl were definitely alive, since you heard the piece of shit Terminus guy say he was going to kill them.

They’re alive.

You blended right in, and when Carol blew up one of the tanks littered around Terminus, you and her were able to slip in amongst the walkers. Gunfire was heard all around as the large number of walkers made their way through the poorly protected walls of Terminus, and when you found yourself in a storage room, a feeling of rage took over you.

There were countless things in there; teddy bears, weapons, jewelry, clothes, blankets, and anything else you could imagine a defenseless person would have. Carol found Daryl’s crossbow among the weapons, and you found Rick’s watch among the jewelry. These people were sick, taking things from people who were just trying to survive with what they have.

You were livid as you and Carol slashed and shot your way through the crowds of walkers and Terminus people, and before long you were granted the one thing you’d be wishing for ever since you and Tyreese made it out of the prison.

Rick, Daryl, Bob and Glenn let Maggie, Michonne, Carl, Sasha and three other people you had never seen before out of a train cart, then they were fleeing to the forest.

You were frozen in shock, tears gathered along your water lines before Carol was pulling you with her as she took off after them. You were so relieved to see that mostly everyone had made it out, and that Rick, though he was a bit bloody, is okay.

You stumbled alongside Carol as she followed the group, and when they stopped a good distance away, you could hear Rick’s deep voice as he declared that they were going back to finish the job.

Stopping behind some bushes, you watched the group argue for a bit before Carol stepped away from the greenery and revealed herself. Almost instantly she was wrapped up in Daryl’s arms, and you watched the reunion with burning eyes as you revealed yourself as well.

Rick opened his mouth to say something to Carol, then his gaze flickered over to you and any words he was going to say died on his tongue. Your eyes glazed over again and you froze in your spot, and the last thing you heard was the relieved sigh Daryl let out as he took both you and Carol in, then you were wrapped up in Rick’s arms.

His grip on you was the tightest it’s ever been, and you couldn’t breathe in the best way. You squeeze your eyes shut as you cling onto any part of him you can, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care that the group, as well as the three new people, were witnessing you sobbing against Rick’s chest.

You spent days with Tyreese, Carol and the girls, and after what happened with Lizzie and Mika, you were beginning to lose the little amount of hope you had left. You were terrified that the people you called your family were dead or lost somewhere.

But here they are. Beth was missing, and though you were scared to know what happened to her, you couldn’t deny just how happy and grateful you are that you were reunited with most of them.

“Y/n,” Rick mumbled and you held onto him tighter. “I thought you were gone.”

It sounded like those words physically pained him to say, and you shake your head before burying your face against the side of his neck. “I’m here,” you cry, reaching up to grip his shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Rick pulled back and gently gripped your jaw, his eyes taking in your features as if he still couldn’t believe you were right there in front of him. “You got out,” he rasped, his thumb stroking your cheek with a barely-there pressure.

You nod, tangling your hands in his damp hair. “With Tyreese, we found Carol a few days later,” you tell him then quickly add, “Well, she found us.”

Rick smiled at your words and it was the prettiest thing you’ve seen in weeks. “You got out,” he murmured, so quiet you barely heard it.

You just nod again and push yourself upwards. Rick meets you halfway and kisses you multiple times, making you laugh against his mouth. “I got out,” you whisper and press a few kisses to his cheek and jaw, then you are wrapped up in his arms again.

Carl makes his way over to you just as Rick reluctantly lets you go and hugs Carol, and you smile down at your boyfriend’s son, who just wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you tight. “Hey, buddy,” you greet quietly, draping your arms over his shoulders as you glance back at Rick.

“Hey,” Carl said back, looking up at you with relieved eyes and a look you’d never seen from him. “Missed you.”

Your lips part in a silent gasp, not used to hearing those kinds of words from him. You were sure he was still a bit upset that you were with his dad instead of his mom now, but were pleasantly proven wrong as he squeezed you one last time before stepping away. “I missed you,” you’re finally able to say as Rick comes back over and pulls you into his side. “And you.”

He grinned down at you and kissed the top of your head just as the red haired man speaks up, “You guys are the luckiest sons of bitches I’ve ever met,”

You furrow your brows as Glenn laughs, wrapping his arm around Maggie’s waist. “We’re not lucky very often,”

“Yeah, well, both you and Rick here found your better halves,” the man said and adjusted the strap on his gun. “I’d say that’s pretty lucky. It’s a miracle we got out of that damn train, too.”

“That wasn’t luck,” Daryl grunted as he looked between you and Carol, and it was then when Rick clued in.

He tightened his hold on you as he asked, “That was you two, wasn’t it?”

You shrug while Carol lets out a rare, short lived laugh. “I couldn’t lose you again,” you mumble. “Not when I hadn’t even gotten you back yet.”

Rick falls silent at that, and he locks his jaw in the way that told you he’s holding back his emotions right now. He pulls you into his arms again and kisses the top of your head, muttering, “Thank you,” once he pulls away.

“There’s something else,” Carol says, making everyone look over at her. “But I think we should show you rather than tell you.”

And that was how you found yourself wrapped up in Glenn’s arms once Rick finally let you go after he saw that Judith was alive and being held by Tyreese. You return your best friend’s hug as you watch Rick cry quietly, taking Judith from the man who protected her with his life for as long as you’ve been separated.

Maggie comes over to you and hugs you as well as Carl runs over to hug his sister, and the whole thing was like something straight out of a movie as you felt a warmth take over you.

You were back with your family. They were all alive. They were okay.

The two men share a look as Rick realizes that he had Tyreese to thank for keeping Judith safe, then Sasha is hugging her brother with tears in her eyes. You pull away from Maggie as Rick hands Judith to Carl, then you are engulfed in his embrace. “Thank you,” his voice was raspy and his breathing was uneven, and you could tell he was on the verge of tears again as he held you tight. “I thought she was gone. I thought Judith was gone.”

You hugged him back, sniffling quietly. “We had to grab her quickly, we just took what we could before getting out of there,”

Rick pulled away and kissed you, his hands reaching up to grip either side of your face. “I love you,” he mumbled, tangling his fingers in your hair as he kissed your forehead. “I love you so much. Thank you for keeping her safe, all of you.” He glances back at Carol and Tyreese, who just nod at him, then he is focused back on you.

“I love you,” came your hushed reply, and you leaned in to rest your head against his shoulder, finally feeling safe for the first time in what felt like forever.

#rick grimes imagine #rick grimes imagines #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes angst #rick grimes fluff #the walking dead angst #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd imagine #twd imagines #twd #twd rick #rick grimes #twd fanfiction

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bluebeary-jay · 2 years ago

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Halcyon days

Based on this ask (i was stupid and started writing all this as a new post and not an answer im sorryyy)

Tags: fluff. INSANE amount of tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, takes place after the events of season 1

Warnings: none? there is swearing and suggestive humor tho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Word count: ~3K

A/N: My sweet anon I'm sorry that I didn't write the 'looking for a place to sleep' bit but I got carried away with your lovely request and it was already longer than I expected lol. I really hope you like it!! 💕 and thank you for being my first request! 😊

You shielded your eyes from the sun and shook your hand again, signaling for Joel to take it.

“Come on, you always whine about your back pains. It’ll do you good.”

“You think lyin’ on the cold hard ground will help me with that?” he asked with tongue in cheek.

“It's actually really soft. Come on, give it a try.” You patted the spot next to you, but the man still didn't move, scouting the area around you instead. You sighed heavily. “Alright, if it's too hard for your back I'll let you lay on me. Happy?”

Joel gave you a sultry look and finally intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I can already tell the ground will be really uncomfortable,” he said teasingly in this sexy drawl of his and you squinted at him.

“Sure you can.”

Joel craned his neck before he let himself get pulled down, and cupped his free hand around his mouth.

“Hey, kiddo!” he yelled to Ellie who was squatting near a small creek down the hill you were lying on. “You alright there?!”

“Yeah, yeah!” the girl shouted back, waving to you both. “Don't come down here, yet!”

“Okay! We’ll be right here if you need anything.”

“Sure thing! Just don't start shagging.”

You choked on air and looked in disbelief in the direction of Ellie’s voice, though you couldn't see the teen from where you were lying, as the view was obscured by high grass.

“Christ, this kid is impossible,” you mumbled as Joel sat down next to you with a loud grunt.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. You didn’t hear her giving me so-called ‘relationship advices’ yesterday. And no,” he added when you opened your mouth, “m’not gonna repeat them to you. It was painful enough to have to endure it alone.”

“You know what they say,” you quirked your lips and he sent you a glare.

“I swear to god, if you quote that dumb comic again…”

You snorted, knowing he was saying it with fondness, judging by his tone and a tug of the corners of his lips. Joel shook his head and laid down slowly on the grass, closing his eyes. You cosied up next to him on your stomach and propped your chin on your hands.

For a couple of seconds you just admired his features and slow rise and falls of his chest, enjoying the quiet atmosphere around you and listening to the crickets chirping and birds singing in the tree crowns.

But of course he didn’t let you indulge yourself, because before long he cracked one eye open and sent you a suspicious glance.

“Why’re you staring?”

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” you answered without missing a beat. Joel wiped his face with an irritated look while you tried your hardest not to laugh out loud.

“Is it still there?” he asked, but you winced and tilted your head discontentedly.

“You just smudged it more. Hold on a second.”

He sighed tiredly and closed his eyes again when you shuffled closer, partially draping yourself over his torso. One of his arms automatically encircled your waist to cuddle you up while he kept the other one under his head. You smirked to yourself and took his face between your hands, pretending to hum in focus. After a couple of seconds Joel cracked his eye open and glanced up at you.

“Jesus, I can feel you burning a hole in my skull. Is my head covered in fungi, or something?”

“Not yet,” you joked. “Keep your eyes closed.”

He exhaled heavily again and relaxed under you, totally oblivious to the mischievous smirk on your face. You faked scraping something off his cheek and when you were pretty sure he lowered his guard, you surged forward and quickly gave the bridge of his nose a small peck.

Joel’s eyes immediately snapped open and a surprised – and then delighted – smile spread across his face.

“What are you doin’?”

“Nothing at all,” you answered innocently, but this time you couldn’t hide a sly grin threatening to split your face in half. “I told you you have something on your cheek.”

Joel made a sound of fake acknowledgment and took his other hand from under his head to pull you even closer and on top of himself. You giggled when he nudged your nose with his, trailing his fingers up and down the back of your neck.

“On my cheek, you say?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t think you got it, then. You aimed at my nose,” he mused cheekily, making you laugh again.

“Oh, you’re right! Silly me.” You leaned in and kissed his jaw this time, smiling against his facial hair. “Let me…” another kiss, this time on his forehead, “...try again, then…” another, next to his eye, “...just to be sure.”

It wasn’t often that Joel let you (and himself) be so affectionate when you weren’t alone, but you guessed Ellie was far enough that he didn’t worry about it now. Or maybe he was just in a good mood – it happened a lot more often lately.

After everything that transpired in the hospital, you were worried Ellie wasn’t going to believe his version of events and shut herself off, but whether the teen still doubted your and Joel’s words or not, she didn’t seem eager to distance herself from you two.

Which was a damn big relief for you, and even a greater one for Joel – not that he’d ever admit it.

Anyone who would bother to look could see that the man was a lot happier lately. He found his brother, he had you, and he didn’t lose Ellie like you knew he feared. The three of you still went on trips outside of Jackson – or like Ellie liked to call them, ‘spontaneous adventures’ – and this was one of the places you personally liked the most. A secluded meadow with a hill overgrown with flowers and leading down to a small torrent at the base of it. Noone has ever ventured so far beyond the especially-hard-to-cross portion of the river, but the place was worth the effort as it was so beautiful, it looked like it was pulled out of a fairy tale.

Speaking of beautiful, Joel cupped your cheeks and let his warm gaze rove over your face as if he wanted to commit it to memory. You were just about to ask if you had something on your face as well, when he spoke up quietly.

“Do you have any idea how goddamn gorgeous you are?” he asked, brushing the strands of your hair out of your face.

“Stop it,” you snapped back, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, but Joel tsked, guiding your chin to look at you again.

“You are,” he said, sounding almost surprised at how bashful you got, before his lips stretched into a smirk. “Are you just fishin’ for compliments, darlin’? Denyin’ it so that I can praise you more?”

“I’m not!” You laughed at the sheer thought of that and Joel took that opportunity to plant a kiss above your mouth. “If anything, you’re just trying to rile me up and get me to compliment you.”

“Don’t even try,” he warned you seriously, but you just shrugged with a playful expression.

“Well, I have to remind you sometimes how good-looking you are,” you whispered against his lips, smiling brightly when you felt his breathless chuckle.

“Shut up.”

“Not until–”

He cut you off by sliding his hand to the back of your neck and pulling you up carefully so he could kiss you deeply. You smiled into the kiss, knowing very well what he’s doing, but not minding it in the slightest.

“You’re trying to distract me,” you accused him when the two of you parted, but he shook his head and tutted. His thumb was brushing your cheek slowly and your body burned in all places he was touching you. You reminded yourself about Ellie’s words and tried to calm down.

“Nah. You had somethin’ on your face, too, and I wanted to return the favor.”

He was so silly sometimes, you almost couldn’t believe that those hands were capable of anything else than caressing your skin so lovingly.

“Liar,” you whispered, earning yourself a low chuckle.

“I could say the same about you.”

You couldn’t help the squeal that escaped you when he turned you over in a swift motion so that now you were lying on your back with the man hovering above you. Whatever protests you might’ve had, they were swallowed down by Joel’s lips on yours, and you hummed happily at the feeling of his touch.

The two of you took several minutes to enjoy each other’s company to the fullest, planting lazy kisses on your faces and whispering silly words of affection. At one point Joel sighed contently, peppering the edge of your jaw and neck with soft kisses, and then laid his head on your chest. One of his arms snaked around your waist to hug you tighter and he closed his eyes.

You pressed your lips together not to giggle, and started to slowly run your fingers through his hair. He groaned and you felt his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmured and you kissed the crown of his head softly.

“Maybe that’s exactly my plan. You don’t get enough rest.”

“Stop,” he said again, though he didn't make any attempt to pull away or stop you himself. “Someone's gotta keep an eye on everything.”

“I’ll make sure we’re safe,” you shushed him, gently scratching the spot behind his ear, to which he made a sound not unlike purring. You suppressed a smile. “Besides, I’ve never seen an infected around here. The chances of something stumbling upon us…”

“...are much higher if we let our guard down,” he finished, his hand going to the gun lying on the grass on his other side to make sure he could reach it quickly. “I don’t want something to happen to you or Ellie.”

“I know, love,” you whispered, kissing his forehead again, trying to make some of those worry wrinkles disappear. “Just close your eyes for a moment. I’ll make sure nothing happens during this time.”

He sighed again and nuzzled his head more into your chest. “You’re a treasure, darlin’.”

“Obviously,” you murmured in response and felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter. “I love you, you know?”

“Love you, too.” He shook his head lightly, but the smile didn’t fade from his face. “Even though you’re a menace.”

“Shut up and relax already. I’ll stand guard.”

He just grumbled again. You took a deep breath of summer air and looked up to the sky.

*****

You didn’t plan on falling asleep.

Even before you opened your eyes, having registered a tip of a shoe nudging your arm and rousing you from your nap, you felt this terrible, gnawing feeling of guilt and panic. Joel would kill you if…

But no, he was still asleep with his head lying heavily on your chest. You sighed with relief and opened your eyes, squinting at Ellie standing above you.

“Finally! How loud do I have to ‘psst!’ for you to wake up? Jesus, I started to think you both are dead.”

You grumbled and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy, but that was always the case when you fell asleep in the middle of the day. It was an hour or so before sunset now, and the field you rested on was bathed in a warm, orange glow.

“Not dead,” you yawned drowsily and nodded at the teen. “What’s up?”

Ellie pointed at Joel. “Wake up the old man.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? Why?”

“Because I want to push you both down the hill,” she whispered in a mocking tone and rolled her eyes when you lifted your eyebrows. “I have something to show you, if you really need to know.”

She did have one of her hands hidden behind her back, so it wasn’t completely unlikely. Still, something about it smelled fishy.

“Why didn’t you wake him up yourself?” you asked in a whisper, too, honestly surprised that you both still had to keep your voices down. Usually the slightest sound woke Joel up, but now he didn’t even stir. Ellie groaned and pointed her hand at you both, like it was obvious.

“Because last time he gave me a bunch of shit about it! And he won’t be mad at you if you do this.”

She had a point, if you wanted to be honest with yourself. Normally you would tease her for it, but lately Ellie rarely acted so secretive and excited, so you decided to humor her this time.

“I’ll blame it on you if he gets angry at me.”

“I’ll really push you down the hill if you do.”

You stick your tongue out at her, which Ellie mirrored, before rolling your eyes and shifting your attention to the man still lying motionlessly on top of you.

“Joel…” you mumbled into his skin, brushing your fingers through his hair lightly. A low grumble issued from his chest and you chuckled despite yourself, leaning down to kiss his forehead softly. You pretended not to hear Ellie gagging in the background. “Come on, I know you’re not asleep.”

He sighed heavily and finally opened his eye, but then he shifted his gaze to Ellie’s form, and let his eyelid drop again.

“Get rid of the kid,” he murmured, snuggling back into your chest.

His head started to shake from the laughter reverberating inside your chest and Ellie gasped indignantly, now having no reservations about going around you and kicking Joel’s leg.

“Fuck off and get your lazy ass up!”

Joel sighed martyrly, as if that was the greatest sacrifice somebody could demand from him, but finally got up, freeing you from under his weight but also depriving you of his safe embrace. He looked at Ellie and lifted his eyebrows, waiting.

The girl in question grinned and pulled a bunch of flowers from behind her back.

Before you realized that it actually wasn’t a bouquet, but several flower crowns, Joel was already shaking his head and actually backing away. “No. No way.”

“Oh my gosh, they’re beautiful, Ellie!” you admired her work, not paying attention to the man behind you, and shifted closer to get a better look. “Where did you learn that?”

“One of those books Tommy gave me had a guide how to do it,” Ellie explained with a wide smile. It surprised you a little that she’d be so enthusiastic about a skill like that, but then she turned back to Joel and her eyes glinted with mischief. “C’mon, try it on.”

“No.”

“Can I pick one?” you asked, once again ignoring your partner. Ellie shook her head, now not even trying to hide a proud, mocking grin that widened when she saw how reluctant Joel was.

“No. Yours is the one with those small yellow shits.” You snorted at the name Ellie gave tiny, round flowers, but put it on immediately. The girl held the crown made out of blue and purple flowers on her lap, and stuck out the last one with small pink and white flowers in Joel’s direction. “And that’s all yours.”

“No,” he repeated. You sat next to Ellie and turned to him with a fake pout on your face.

“Joel, we don't turn down gifts. It's not polite.” He glared at you as you leaned on Ellie’s shoulder. “Ellie has worked on it for so long, think how exhausting it must've been!”

“Look at my poor, tired hands,” Ellie sighed dramatically, lifting her hands and wiggling her fingers, and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you.

Joel looked from her to you with a grimace. You mouthed ‘please?’ to him and he groaned, running his hands down his face.

And then – making Ellie snort and you jump excitedly in place – he took the flower crown from the girl and all but dropped it onto his head.

“Joke’s on you, because I know for a fact pink looks great on me.”

“Glad you think so, because…” Ellie trailed off with a shit-eating grin and threw her backpack on the ground, quickly rummaging through it. You grabbed onto Joel’s arm before he had a chance to escape when she pulled out one of those old cameras with a flip screen, making him sigh even louder. “Now move your ass.”

While Ellie was positioning herself between the two of you and turning on the device, you quickly lifted Joel’s hand to your lips behind her back, kissing his fingers with a grateful smile. He seemed to have given in to his fate, not making any attempt to move away or talk his way out of it, just rubbing his brow with a tired expression. The smallest of smiles found its way onto his face when he felt your lips on his skin and he glanced up at you with fondness.

“You two will be the death of me,” he muttered, and Ellie poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Shut up and smile. We don’t have much sunlight left.”

You scooted over closer to Ellie to fit in the frame, squinting a little from the reddish-orange sun blinding you from behind a cloud above the horizon. The girl snapped one photo and made a different face, and in that split second your eyes darted to Joel’s in the small screen of the camera.

He still looked very reluctant to be in a photo, but you could see he was trying to hold back a smile.

He did look good in pink. And you meant the flowers as well as the small blush adoring his cheeks.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #because i cant write a fic without her in it #joel miller x y/n #joel tlou #pedro pascal #beary writes

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becausebuckley · 1 month ago

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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 41!

another excellent reading week <3 this list is spoiler free for season 8: for season 8 fic recs, click here!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

for thy true-love take | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck| 1.9k | T

Chimney Han and the ethics of slipping your coworkers love potions. chimneyhen bestieism!! this felt so them <3

from the ground up | blueberrytwoberry/@blueberrytwoberry| 17.5k | M

And so, really, the last thing he needed when he got home at the end of a long shift was to find a massive, weird-ass dog curled up on his front porch. And yet, there it was. just this morning i realised what a goldmine animal transformation aus can be and wow this was exactly what i was looking for!! the maddie scene had me giggling, such a lovely fic!!

i can't sleep without you | Buddiesmutslut/@buddiesmutslut | 1.9k | G

He can exhaust himself with a workout or a good shift or a night out, but by the time he climbs into his bed, he lays awake for hours, replaying his mistakes over and over again. He’s barely sleeping, beyond exhausted and he just wants to go home. so so soft and so lovely <3 exactly the comfort i needed earlier this week

i didn't know (that it could be good) | rainbow_nerds/@rainbow-nerdss | 27k | E

They're friends, that's all there is to it. Until Eddie lets himself into Buck's apartment unannounced, and finds him in a compromising position. That should be nothing, just something to laugh about down the line, except afterwards, it's like a switch has flipped, and neither of them can get it out of their minds. okay yes yes the smut is good the clothes sharing is nice the sexual tension is so there but can we talk about the butterflies?? just read this and you'll know what i mean it will be so worth it i promise. a new favourite for sure <3

i'll be the north star that takes you home | marviless/@marviless | 7.9k | G

in which eddie is moving back to el paso for the summer, and buck is deeply in love. listen the idea of eddie moving to el paso hurts me and also hurts buck BUT when it leads to fics like this i suddenly don't mind anymore <3 the airport scene!!

i'll keep your brittle heart warm | reeseofmind | 12.8k | E

5 times buck and eddie wear the other's clothes + 1 time they don't wear much of anything. i've been deep in the clothes sharing tag and this was one of my favourite finds <3

in synchronicity with the score | therainbowsedge/@therainbowsedge | 30.2k | E

“How long have you gone without scening?” And isn’t that a loaded question that Buck doesn’t even know how to start responding to. i have such a weak spot for fics like this. this has some gorgeous descriptive passages and looks into buck's mindset in this au!

love like woven thread | renecdote/@renecdote | 1.9k | G

the one where Eddie is a clothes thief and Buck kind of loves that about him. the ultimate hurt/comfort fluff clothes stealing fic <3 so lovely!! i reread this while working on this rec list actually hehe

steal my abuela (you already have my heart) | anarchyat4am | 4.6k | T

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, “You really showed up for me yesterday. Thank you.” “Course,” Buck says, “We had fun.” “Fun? You sat in the ER with my abuela for three hours.”. buck and abuela!! i love them together so much!! family feels indeed <3

vary my days | Chash | 12.6k | T

After Christopher leaves, Frank tells Eddie to get a hobby. Eddie picks Legos, Buck picks crochet, and they both wait for Chris to talk to them again. eddie and the legos my absolute beloved <3 such a fantastic working of these characters!!

you've haunted me so stunningly | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 9.6k | T

Five times Buck and Eddie hold hands, one time they do by proxy, and one time Eddie freaks out about it. holding hands!! so so hurt/comfort in the best way possible. i was saving this one for a bus ride home after a long day and it hit the spot exactly <3

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle’s recs #fic rec list #the links on this one were fighting me rip i hope they work properly now!

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wolfsclothing6 · 5 days ago

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The Gym Encounter #1

chew pup

(Request from @pupamp)

Dylan strutted into the gym like he owned the place, his slim, sculpted frame catching the eye of everyone around him. A self-proclaimed fitness king, he was known for his snarky attitude and his habit of mocking anyone who didn’t meet his “standards.” That’s why, when he spotted a thick, older guy in a leather tank top and shorts—a clear pup collar around his neck—Dylan couldn’t resist.

“Woof, woof,” he joked, smirking as he passed the man by. “Didn’t know it was dress-up day.”

The man, a burly bear of a guy with salt-and-pepper scruff and tattoos creeping up his arms, turned his gaze toward Dylan, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“You’ve got a lot of bark for someone so small,” the man said, his voice calm but with an unmistakable edge.

“Small?” Dylan shot back, flexing an arm. “This is all muscle, old man. Maybe spend less time playing dress-up and more time actually working out.”

The man smiled, a little too warmly. “Careful, pup. You’re biting off more than you can chew.”

Dylan laughed and walked away, shaking his head. But as he hit the bench press, something felt… off. His usual confidence wavered, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, like he was being watched.

Mid-set, the burly man appeared behind him. “Need a spot, pup?”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I’m good.”

But the man leaned in closer, the scent of leather and musk hitting Dylan like a wave. It was strangely intoxicating, and for a split second, he froze, unable to move as the man’s deep voice filled his ears.

“Good pups don’t talk back,” the man murmured, his words like a command.

Dylan blinked, shaking his head as the man walked away, but something inside him had shifted. His workout started feeling strange—less about pumping iron and more about… something else.

His body tingled, a warmth spreading through his limbs. At first, he thought it was a pump from the workout, but his muscles began to feel heavier, fuller. His pecs swelled, pressing against his tank top, while his arms thickened, veins popping out like a seasoned bodybuilder’s.

“What the…?” he muttered, but his voice sounded deeper, rougher.

He stumbled into the locker room, gripping the sink as he stared at his reflection. His once sleek and twinkish features were changing before his eyes. His jawline squared, a shadow of stubble darkening his face. His shoulders broadened, and his torso stretched wider, filling out with muscle—and a layer of softness that gave him a bulky, powerful look.

“What’s happening to me?” Dylan said, his voice trembling but undeniably huskier.

As he tried to process the changes, he noticed his gym shorts sagging slightly—only to realize his glutes and thighs had ballooned, his legs now thick and meaty. His tank top strained as his chest and arms grew larger, his traps rising like a mountain.

But it wasn’t just his body. His thoughts were shifting, too. The gym wasn’t just for working out anymore—it was a place to serve, to obey. Images of leather, collars, and kneeling before a handler flooded his mind. His reflection smirked back at him, even as he panicked.

“No, no, this isn’t me,” he whispered, but his hands moved on their own, pulling off his tank top to reveal his now tattooed chest, covered in swirling black designs. Around his neck, a thick leather collar materialized, the tag reading “Good Pup.”

Dylan stumbled back, his breathing heavy. His once pristine sneakers morphed into dirty musky ones, and a leather harness wrapped itself snugly around his bulging torso.

Footsteps echoed behind him, and Dylan turned to see the burly man leaning against the doorway of the locker room.

“I told you, pup,” the man said, smiling. “you were biting off more than you can chew.”

Dylan opened his mouth to protest, but a low growl escaped instead. His knees buckled, and he dropped to all fours, the transformation completing itself as his mind embraced its new role.

“Good boy,” the man said, reaching down to scratch Dylan’s ear.

Dylan—no, pup—wagged his head, a dopey grin spreading across his now bearded face. He didn’t remember being a cocky twink anymore. He only knew the leather, the gym, and the satisfaction of being a loyal, obedient pup.

When they left the locker room together, the pup followed his handler with pride.

https://bsky.app/profile/thebeefycupcake.bsky.social

(thebeefycupcake on baky for photos)

#gay #male transformation #transformation #age progression #bear tf #fat belly #male tf #pup play #bd/sm puppy #pup #pup tf #gym #straight to gay #twink to bear #himbofication #himbo tf

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daintylovers · 5 months ago

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Moments in Love

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

A/N: based off of a request from @beyond-the-stars-fairy

"Hey, can I request a season one stiles falling in love with the reader!"

ur wish is my command <3

Summary: Glimpses of Stiles falling in love with you, throughout Season One.

If anyone were to ask Stiles who the girl of his dreams was, he would say you in a heartbeat. It felt like you had always been the one for him. An unrealistic fantasy that every teenage boy has. Except at this stage, most of his peers were moving on to more attainable girls. Not Stiles though, never Stiles. You could hit him with your car and he would thank you for it, the lovesick idiot. It didn't help either that you were oh-so-sweet to him. You guys weren't friends, more like acquaintances. But in his dreams, you were more than anything he could imagine.

So, even though Scott had just shown him a nasty "wolf" bite, his attention was stuck on you as you waltzed up the school's front steps. He called out your name in greeting and was pleasantly met with a smile and a wave.

Scott, did you see that. I mean we're practically set up for a slow-burn love affair. I swear to you, one day, she will be my wife.

Stiles, can you focus on something other than her for like five seconds! Jesus man, I show you I got bit by a freaking wolf last night because of you, and you don't bat an eye. But she wiggles her fingers and it's like your brain is fried. Get a grip.

The spaz manages to do as Scott says, until later that day he spots the new girl hanging around his girl. By the way, his best friend is looking at the new girl, he can tell that Scott is just as screwed as he is. Serves him right, it's time for someone else to feel the way he feels all the time.

Stiles learns that her name is Allison and remembers the class they share together. He won't lie, she's pretty, of course she is. But she's nothing compared to you in his eyes. Seeing the pair of you talking and giggling like long-lost friends from across the hall only makes his heart hammer harder. Even Scott comments about how Stiles' heart is seriously racing against his chest. Almost like Scott could actually hear it? Weird, but whatever, just means that Stiles has more than homework to do tonight.

But the newfound discovery about his best friend takes a toll on Stiles's mind, suddenly finds himself obsessed over werewolf lore rather than the smell of your shampoo when you sit next to him in math.

Stiles, are you listening?

Fuck, he was totally ignoring you. He obviously didn't do it on purpose, but what if you thought he was.

Stilessssssss, hellooooooo

Your fingers waving in front of his eyes is what causes him to come back to the land of the conscious.

Yes, sorry, yes, I am totally listening 100%.

Really? Then, what did I say?

You said, Stiles, hello in a way that a snake would if they were real. Like a cartoon snake with really good-smelling hair.

God, was he cursed to be the most awkward boy alive or something.

You aren't wrong, but you aren't fooling me Stilinski. I was very kind-hearted and I know you weren't listening. Guess I'll have to ask someone else.

No! No, don't ask someone else. I'm sorry. I promise I am paying attention now.

Good, because I won't ask again. Are you doing anything this weekend?

Was he dreaming? He had to have been dreaming.

No-no, nope, nothing. Yep, I am totally doing nothing this weekend by myself. Why do you ask?

I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party with me? Lydia has Jackson, and Allison is going with Scott. So I figured we could go together since our friends are coupled up.

And just when he thought his heart might explode, you added, Not as a date or anything. I just don't want to show up alone, you know. Plus, you shouldn't have to show up alone. We can show up alone together!

Yeah, that's great. Totally not soul-crushing to hear. God, you probably thought he was into boys. Which is fine, of course, Stiles was anything but homophobic. Yet, it's a tough spot to be in when the girl of your straight(?) male dreams thinks you swing for the other team.

Yeah, I would love to. Do you need a ride or something?

Which is how he arrived to now, driving with you in his passenger seat. Thank god it wasn't awkward. Sure, the small talk could have been better, but he could tell you were nervous. He just didn't know why. He knew why he was nervous, you were fucking gorgeous. And his best friend was surely going to kill your new friend tonight, but whatever. Live in the moment is what everyone says. And if he could, Stiles would stay in this moment forever. Getting to peek over at you softly singing along to the radio, windows down, the streetlights hitting you just enough to make you look like a dream.

Arriving at the party, you guys immediately got drinks and went to say your hello's. Turns out, you knew a lot more people than he did. But you never let him leave your side, always ready to introduce him to whoever you were talking to.

After you had finished, you suggested beer pong. Stiles opted out on condition of driving you home safely but promised to watch from the sidelines. So you were partnered up with some other guy, and Stiles could feel his envy choking him.

Even though you smiled at him when you would score, Stiles's stomach was sick at the thoughts he was having. You looked good with him, fit in with him. Self-loathing was a bitch.

Yet, when you won, you didn't run to the other guy's arms and hug him. No, it was Stiles who received your affections as if he had helped any. The boy was quick to catch you as you catapulted yourself into his arms. You were saying something to him, but he was focused on the way you fit in his arms.

You pulled away quicker than he hoped but stayed at arm's length. Which is where he could smell the alcohol on your breath, and his illusion was shattered once more. You were only clinging to him because of what was in your system.

With your wide eyes staring at him and the little puffs of air leaving your nose, Stiles had to force himself to look elsewhere. Anywhere else. Cause if he didn't, he was sure to kiss you. And that wouldn't be good for anyone.

This is when he spotted Scott tearing himself away from Allison, and rushing outside. Stiles turned his attention back to you and fought every muscle in his body not to kiss you.

I've got to go, I'll be right back.

Then he left because he knew that if he stayed and explained, someone might die.

What he didn't know, is that you were quick to follow him. The guy was your ride home after all.

As Stiles searched for Scott, he noticed Allison getting into Derek's car. This is when you practically slammed into his back, not realizing he had come to a stop.

Stiles jerked forward a little not prepared for your momentum, and then looked to see who had just body-slammed him.

Where is she going?

Even in your drunken stupor, your protectiveness for your friends was overpowering.

I don't know, but I have to go find Scott. Can you get a ride with someone else?

No.

Then you marched yourself to his car, him following behind like a puppy dog.

I'm coming with you because, after Scott's, you're taking me to Allison's to see if she's okay. No teenager has that nice of a car unless it's Jackson.

Fair enough.

Your persistence gave him hope that one day, he could be someone that you would be protective over. Maybe being friends with you wasn't the worst thing in the world. Because then, at least, you would love him in some capacity.

The next few days after the party had been a bit of a blur for Stiles. Allison had been alright after all, and you had ended up staying at her house for the night. Stiles had received a text from you a few hours after he found Scott, saying thanks for the night- even if I was more than a little drunk and bossy.

From that point on, you guys texted a little here and there each day. It was a little slice of heaven away from the supernatural drama that had brutally invaded his peace of mind.

For example, Scott had convinced himself this morning that he had practically eaten Allison alive last night. Turns out, Allison was safe, but Scott had definitely eaten someone alive, judged by the amount of blood the bus had contained.

Stiles had been ready to discuss the details he had gathered through the day with Scott during lunch. But his plans were stopped when someone who wasn't Scott sat down at the table. In fact, a lot of people who weren't Scott had started sitting down.

It wasn't until you sat down next to him that Stiles decided he wasn't irritated at the intrusion. This was actually a really great intrusion.

Did you hear they found out who the body was? It was this old bus driver. The police think it was an animal attack again. Has your dad said anything?

No, I haven't asked him yet. But, I'll tell you if he says anything worse than an animal attack.

God, could you imagine being the bus driver. The fear he must have felt? I stopped going for walks in the woods because I didn't want to have a bite taken out of me. And now it's happening at school? What's next, the movie store?

It's probably for the best that you stopped going into the woods. Dangerous stuff out there. If you're really that bored, at least bring someone with you.

Are you volunteering, Stilinski?

Then, someone interrupted his tranquility, Hey lovebirds, are you in or are you out?

Stiles felt his whole body turn red looking at you, he could see your cheeks start to flush at the implication.

Fuck off Jackson- what are you even talking about?

Thank god you said something in response because Stiles was sure his voice would have cracked.

Me, Lydia, Allison, and her new little friend are going bowling. Are you and your new little friend coming? Or will I be forced to play with people who suck at bowling?

You turned your head back to Stiles, bowling? He shook his head, he would not fall into the same ploy that Scott had landed himself into.

Nah, Stiles and I are going to just work on homework. Thanks though, think of me when someone else kicks your ass, Jackson.

Jackson gave you a fake laugh before going back to his original conversation. This time, Stiles and you were listening, not wanting to be caught. The bell rang shortly after, and Stiles was eager to get Scott alone. But you had other ideas.

Stiles, wait up!

Stiles waited up, as you caught up to him.

Since our friends are going bowling, do you actually want to hang out? Be alone together type of thing again? We could hang out at your house and I'll bring snacks!

Yep, being friends with you was definitely better than nothing.

Of course, Stiles said yes, which is how he ended up with you falling asleep on his shoulder. You had let him pick the movie, shoving homework aside. Naturally, he had picked Star Wars, after you had said you hadn't seen any of them. The two of you had already been hanging out since 4pm, so when he put on the movie at 9pm, he knew there was a chance that you might get tired.

But there's that saying, that people only sleep, like truly sleep, when they feel safe. Seeing the soft rise and fall of your chest, your body unconsciously seeking out the heat from his body, had Stiles feel at peace for the first time since this shit had all started. His chest warmed at the thought that you trusted him enough to be this vulnerable with him.

So he shut off his laptop and debated on waking you, but he could feel the lack of sleep on his part rapidly catching up to him. A nap wouldn't hurt. He could set an alarm for thirty minutes and then wake you up to go home. It wouldn't be totally weird if he fell asleep next to you, right? His eyes made up his mind, as his eyelids became heavier and heavier the longer he had this internal debate with himself. Just thirty minutes to be selfish and envision a life where this was every day, and then he would be fine.

Thirty minutes turned into a lot longer than thirty minutes, the two of you waking up to being tangled in the arms of the other. Stiles being Stiles, made it awkward by trying to not make it awkward. But you handle it like a champ, much to Stiles's liking.

Oh my god, stop freaking out Stilinski. I sleep with all my friends. this just means your status has risen from schoolmate to friend level three.

Yeah, being your friend is 100% better than nothing. Especially if that first part was true.

After Stiles calmed down, you guys got dressed and went out for breakfast.

Stiles should have known that something this great would only be followed by literal horrors. For starters, everyone's least favorite werewolf, Derek, decided to involve Scott and him in his pity party bullet hole wound. Stiles was sure that he would never forget the vision of holding a bone saw and being prepared to cut a guy's arm off. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that moment.

You, however, would have the same type of moment a few days later, at the movie store. You had been searching for a new movie for movie night with Stiles. Hanging out with him had become your own personal brand of heroin, soaking up the minutes like a sponge.

It was in the romance aisle, that you heard a familiar voice calling out for help.

The Notebook? Really Jackson, I never thought you were a sentimental type of guy.

Jackson spotted you in the aisle adjacent, coming up to look with you.

Trust me, I'm not. It's for Lydia.

For some reason, this store had every movie but The Notebook. And there was not another soul around. It was after that realization, that goosebumps rose on your arms. Something was wrong.

The lights started to flicker and Jackson held out his arm, to keep you behind him. He felt it too.

But you guys couldn't just stand there, so you swerved and started walking in front of him. Turning the corner, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Someone else had been here, in with you guys. But from the way his body was crumpled like a piece of paper, he wasn't really here with you guys anymore.

You felt Jackson come up behind you and let out a gasp. Turning to face him, you said, We gotta leave. Like now.

Jackson turned around, ready to take the lead, when a monstrous figure emerged out of the very aisle we had just been in.

The size of its body was a quick indicator that this thing was definitely not human. But, way too beefed up to be any animal you knew of. Jackson started taking tiny steps back. Maybe the thing was blind and hadn't spotted you yet.

You guys quickly made your way into a different aisle, with you holding a hand over your mouth to silence your breathing. Jackson made sure that this time you wouldn't sneak around him, his chest and arm locking you in place, with his head turned around to keep a lookout.

The thing completely walks past you guys, and for a second you believe that it really might be blind. But then the shelves start a domino chain and Jackson only has a split second to decide whether he'll save you or himself.

The former jackass, shoves you out of the aisle, as the shelf next to you guys collapses on top of him, crushing his legs.

Your head swerves around, trying to locate the beast, but you come up empty. It wasn't blind, it was playing with you guys. The way a child plays with its food. You stand and bend down ready to try and lift the shelf off Jackson.

Stop, stop, stop, he whispers, Just go. I'll be okay, but you won't. Go.

Shut up, you whisper back, I'm not leaving you.

It's then that a growl erupts through the air. The creature has come back to finish you guys off. Out of fear, you try even harder to lift the shelf as the animal slowly starts to approach you guys.

Fuck, fuck fuck, you chant, the furniture not budging.

With a final tug, you stumble back and fall onto the floor. This is where you die, on a dirty floor while your friend watches, probably also about to die.

But the creature does the strangest thing. It walks over to Jackson, paying you no mind as your instincts take over and you scramble a bit away. It digs its claws into Jackson next and the boy lets out a guttural scream, both out of terror and pain. The beast removes its claws and turns to face you.

Quick as lightning, it's crowding up your space, breathing its hot breath on your face. Its eyes are red as red can be, almost glowing with intensity. Its coarse hair tickles your neck, as it leans down, smelling you like a dog. It looks back at you and you swear your heart stops. It just stares at you and you stop breathing.

Then it stands up straight, breaks into a run/crawl, and bursts through the glass doors.

You're out of it until the ambulance arrives. But even then you can't fully decipher their questions. It isn't until you see Sheriff Stilinski talking to Jackson, that your mind sobers up a bit. The man walks up to you, telling the paramedics to check on Jackson one last time.

Are you alright sweetheart?

With Stiles and your newfound friendship, you've met Sheriff Stilinski more than enough times to have formed a little bond with him. He likes you, thinks you're great for his son, and tells you every chance he gets, despite Stiles' complaining.

You don't even get the chance to answer his question, because his son starts causing a frenzy in the crowd. Of course, Stiles was there. Thank god Stiles was here.

The boy bursts forward, eager to see his dad, but falters when he notices your shriveled form sitting in the back of the ambulance.

Are you alright? Is she alright?

I'm okay Stiles, just a little shaken.

Thank god, he says, then goes to hug you, overwhelmed with emotion at the thought of something harming you.

But he stops himself when he sees you flinch. Your eyes drop to your hands sitting in your lap and guilt consumes you.

Stiles, once they do a final check on her, can you take her home?

Of course Dad. See you at home.

The sheriff shares the sentiment and then walks off, leaving you and the boy alone.

What happened there? he questions softly, afraid to scare you off.

You won't believe me.

When he doesn't respond, you look up at him. His head is tilted, offering you a chance to explain even if it's absurd. It's when he clutches your hand and flips it over to trace your palm, that you tell him. And you tell him everything, even the part about how the attacker was not human.

He lets you finish, and when you do, you look up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

Stiles, I thought I was gonna die. I should have died.

A tear rolls down your cheeks and he tries to hug you again. This time you accept it, and start weeping into his chest. He rubs up and down your back with one hand, the other cupping the back of your head.

It's okay, it's okay. You're fine, just a little shaken like you said. You just need some rest. Let me take you home.

He signals for the EMTs to check you one last time before he gets the okay.

It isn't until you're halfway home that you realize, he didn't say if he believed you or not.

Do you think I'm crazy?

And it's because he loves you, that he avoids the question.

I think you just need some sleep.

You take that as a neon sign saying yes you are completely crazy, and keep your mouth shut the rest of the ride. When you arrive at your house, you thank him for the ride and then quickly leave to go inside.

Stiles thinks nothing of it. Why would you want to stay and chat after something like that? In fact, he's proud of himself for dodging your question, cause he thinks he's spared you from any harm.

He texts you before he goes to bed, and wakes up to nothing from you. No biggie, you're probably still asleep.

Monday rolls around, and you haven't responded to any of his texts. And trust me, he has sent a lot of texts. A concerning amount. He's holding on to hope that you're just waiting to say something to him in school, but you don't show up.

He isn't your boyfriend or anything, so he doesn't show up to your house.

Until Tuesday comes and you still haven't responded and you still aren't at school.

As first period starts, he realizes that everybody but him is not at school. What the fuck? So he takes that as his sign to fake sick and also not be at school.

The excuse worked well enough with the nurse, who waved him off with a note for the day like she was giving them out like candy. Whatever, that worked for him.

He tried calling Scott first, which went to voicemail. He wasn't close enough with Allison so he wouldn't call her. Plus he had a feeling that the two lovebirds were with each other anyway. He didn't have Lydia's number and doubted Jackson would give a shit if Stiles checked in.

That just left you. You who had been avoiding him for days. For someone so intelligent, he couldn't figure out what had happened between you guys. Was this your way of shoving him aside, bored already?

Stiles wasn't a quitter though, so he tried calling, but to no avail.

Fine, be that way. If you won't answer, he'll make a house call. With his nerves on fire, he made it to your house quicker than he should have. Your car was in the driveway and so was another car. Probably your mom's. At least he knew you were home.

He parked and went to knock on your door. Your mom answered a minute later, greeting the boy with a polite smile. He hadn't met your parents yet. You had chosen his place as the hangout spot, so it just hadn't happened.

Hi, I'm Stiles, a friend of your daughters. I was just coming by to check on her. May I come in?

Your mom let him in, telling him that she would go see if you're awake first. They had you on meds for the shock, real hard stuff.

But what your mom didn't know, is that you hadn't been taking them. Just hiding them in your cheek until you could spit them out. You weren't crazy. That thing wasn't a goddamn mountain lion and screw everyone who kept trying to tell you it was. You knew what you saw.

Instead, during the hours you were supposed to be knocked out, you spent researching everything you could about the creature. With only a description, it wasn't easy at first. But after putting some papers together, you began to connect the dots. All of the deaths blamed on animal attacks, Stiles telling you to stay out of the woods, using Scott's regular wolf bite as an example, the other weird shit you had seen since living in beacon hills, everything was adding up.

Your mom knocked on your door and you hid your laptop under the covers, lying down and closing your eyes. She came in after a moment and gently shook you.

Fluttering your eyes open, you made your voice raspy, asking her what?

You have a friend here to visit you, his name is Stiles. Do you want him to come up, or should I tell him a different time might work better?

A flurry of emotions clouded your head. Of course, you wanted to see him. You missed him, even though it had only been a few days. But he wasn't telling you something, you couldn't trust him until you got your evidence that you weren't crazy. If you didn't have proof, he would shut you down like last time.

Can you tell him another time, please? I don't feel too well.

Your mom obliged, leaving you alone again.

Stiles' leg hadn't stopped shaking. He was nervous like how he used to be around you. You were friends now though, he reasoned, he shouldn't be so nervous.

Seeing your mom come down the stairs, he burst out of the chair. At his eager reaction, your mom gave him a pity smile, and he knew.

She's still out of it. A different time would work better, if you want I can give you her number so you guys can text.

He visibly deflated, No, it's okay. I have her number so I'll keep in touch. Thank you.

The ball was in your court, and he had never felt sicker with want.

You woke up from your nap and checked your messages immediately. Just because you weren't responding to Stiles, didn't mean you weren't reading them.

But instead, your phone was barren aside from one text from Scott. That was weird considering you guys weren't super close or anything.

Opening it, you felt your heart drop.

Stiles is in danger. You need to get to the school, the creature is back. Please help him.

All common sense went out the window as you read those first words, Stiles is in danger.

You didn't question how Scott knew about the creature to why he wanted you specifically to save his best friend. Or even why at the school? The only thing in your head that had alarms going off was Stiles being in danger.

You throw a sweater over your shirt and put on some shoes. Attire really was the least of your concerns right now. Thankfully your parents were asleep, so you snuck out the door and drove to the school.

You arrived at the same time another familiar car did.

Jackson, what are you doing here? You said, after getting out of the car.

Allison answered, I got a text from Scott telling me to meet him here. We were all going on a double date again. But he's like an hour late.

This was a setup, and you guys were screwed.

You guys have to get out of here. I got a text from Scott too, saying Stiles was in danger. But it's not real. Jackson, it's that thing.

Allison jumped in before Jackson could, What thing? Also no way are we leaving you here, Let's just investigate together, Jackson and Lydia stay out here, and if we aren't back in 15 minutes, call the police.

How could you explain to the girl that if she went in there a possible werewolf would eat her alive. And that her boyfriend and his best friend have also probably been already eaten alive. You couldn't. But Allison wasn't one to take no for an answer, and you weren't about to leave with them. So you compromised.

Call the police in ten if we aren't out. You told Jackson, and then began walking with Allison up the steps.

The school was dark and cold. We made our way to the pools before our silence was interrupted. Allison's phone went off, and it was Scott who was calling.

She looked to you, as if for permission, and you just nodded your head, eager to see if Scott was actually behind the phone call or if it was something else.

They have their little chat as you stalk away from the girl, walking on the other side of the pool.

Hey! He said to get to the lobby now, and he sounded really worried.

You guys made your way to the lobby and were greeted by Scott playing his own game of 20 questions.

But you stopped listening when you saw Stiles move from behind Scott. He rushed to you, gripping your shoulders.

What are you doing here? She didn't say you were with her?

You shrugged his hands off, He asked us to be here. but gave very different reasoning to both of us.

Stiles was hurt by your action but covered it up with more questions. Who Scott? What do you mean he asked you to be here? What did he say?

Jesus, Stiles slow down. You said, shoving your phone at him. he swiped it immediately and read the message that his best friend definitely did not send.

He didn't send this.

Obviously, you deadpanned.

Listen, you need to leave now. You need to drive to the station and get my dad. Tell him I'm in trouble at the school.

What the fuck? No, you tell him.

And then on second thought, you added, I know you know who sent this text. What the fuck is going on here? Is it connected with the werewolf?

Stiles' eyes almost popped out of his skull at your closing comment. How did you know?

As for you, you finally got your confirmation. You weren't crazy after all. Now why was he hiding it from you?

Wait- why was he always at the wrong place at the right time? No way that was a coincidence.

Was Stiles the fucking werewolf?

You weren't about to out him as a supernatural creature. Because what if you did and then he killed the other in front of you as some sort of bonding ritual before turning you? A week ago you would have begged to be sent to a therapist for having thoughts like this. But now? It was so unlikely as it should have been.

All you said was, I knew it.

He was quick with a reply, You don't know anything. Stop it.

I knew it, you laughed a little. I fucking knew it, I'm not crazy.

You don't know it. You're crazy, bat shit insane, please stop. His commands turned to begging at the end. He really didn't want you to know.

You guys were cut short when Lydia and Jackson burst through the doors. But even they were cut short when a loud thump came from the roof.

Soley out of fear, you moved closer to Stiles, and he wrapped a palm around your wrist.

You watch as Stiles and Scott share a look, then Scott yells, RUN!

Stiles practically yanks you behind him and you barely make it up the stairs before the ceiling collapses. You turn your head to look down and see it.

An odd mix of relief and terror fills you. It isn't Stiles, which is very good. But it is going to kill you this time, which is very bad.

We make it to the cafeteria and Stiles pulls me into a corner while Scott and Jackson bolt the doors. Then everyone starts moving chairs to barricade the door. You go to help, eager to not be eaten, when Stiles, whose hand is still clenching your wrist pulls you back. You turn, sending him a questioning glance, and he jerks his head to the twenty-foot wall of windows.

Stiles tries to get everyone's attention, yet no one listens to him. Irritated and beyond terrified you shout, HEY!

That gets everyone's attention, which allows Stiles to speak.

He informs the group of the windows and Allison cracks, Can someone please tell me what's going on here because I'm really scared. What is happening?

Scott and Stiles share another look. And even though the question was directed at Scott, Stiles answers, Somebody killed the janitor.

What is he talking about Scott? Is this a joke? Allison tries.

Who killed him? You questioned, waiting to see if the boys will give up the werewolf.

Scott panics at all the attention, everyone's eyes waiting on him. I don't know alright. But whoever it is, they are going to kill us too.

Why is he protecting the werewolf, you think? Then another thought hits you, Is Scott the werewolf? Is that why it didn't kill you, why he sent the text saying Stiles was in danger? Had he been planning to kill us all and then second-guessed it? But that couldn't be it because Scott was in here now. Fuck man.

One question still remained, Why were both boys protecting the werewolf identity?

Who is it? You asked, and Stiles knew you weren't talking about the alleged killer. You were smart and he loved it, but now was not the time to be smart.

No one answers, so Allison tries again.

It's then that Scott says, It's Derek. Derek Hale.

I look to Stiles who looks at Scott like he's the stupidest person alive. It's not Derek. Scott's a liar.

Everyone starts questioning and Scott continues, I saw him, alright. Derek killed all those people. Starting with his own sister. It's been Derek the whole time. He's here, and if we don't get out now, he will kill us too.

Call the cops, Jackson demands.

Stiles snaps out of his stupor, No.

If it really was Derek, Stiles would have no problem with his dad and a shooting team hunting him down. It's not Derek. Or maybe it is, but Dereks not fully Derek. You know?

Stiles and Jackson argue as you try and unravel the mystery. It isn't until Lydia gets hung up on that you tune back in.

Why does Derek want to kill us specifically? You question. Just a few days ago, you had no clue about anything. Content to believe it was all animal attacks. So why would he be going after you now?

Allison seconds your question and adds a few more, which prompts Scott to yell in anxiety. The girl sulks away, opting to not ask any more questions for fear of his reaction.

Scotts goes to a corner and Stiles moves to follow him. You stray not too far, eager to hear their conversation.

Don't you want to see if Allison is alright? Scott's kinda a dick, and you probably don't want to hear me scold him. Stiles tries.

She's a big girl, she can handle herself.

Please, he tries again.

No. You say and stand right next to Scott. The aforementioned boy sends you a curious glance.

If looks could kill, Stiles might have had you dead. All he was trying to do was protect you, and you were being a brat about it. You didn't know anything, but if you wanted to know so badly, then you would.

First off, throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done.

Scott's eyes widen and his best friend outs him as a liar in front of you.

Stiles continues, Secondly, she knows so don't give me that look. I don't know how she knows but she knows alright.

Scott looks to you for confirmation, I know.

Fine, he starts, I didn't know what else to do plus, he's dead so it doesn't really matter. Then he turned his attention solely to you, I just bit her head off didn't I?

You look to Stiles in disbelief, who just sighs in disappointment.

Scott, I'm sure she'll be fine. Just apologize later. You try.

Stiles, who had enough goes, Bigger issues at had people, like how are we not going to die?

A thought strikes you, But if it wanted us dead, we would be dead already. It wants something else. It's like when it didn't kill Jackson or me even though we were very killable.

So what, it wants to eat us at the same time?

Scott jumps in, No- Derek said it wants revenge.

You start, Revenge against what? Why lure me and Allison here? I know I didn't do anything to cause something like this.

Both boys have the same thought at the same time, Allison's family.

Allison's family? What the fuck did they have to do with you?

Jackson breaks our circle, New plan asshats. Stiles calls his useless dad and he comes down here with a bunch of guns.

Stiles is quick to shut that idea down, but Scott prevails, Stiles, you might have to tell him.

No way, I am not watching him get eaten alive. It's bad enough she's here, and he points to you, I won't lose them both.

Jackson shoves Scott to the side and tries to yank Stiles's phone out of his hands. Stiles is quick on the recoil, knocking Jackson's jaw back.

But it was just for show, as Stiles tries to call his dad himself. He gets voicemail and it sinks in that you might be dead in the water.

Banging erupts from the doors, both Scott and Stiles move to be in front of you, taking slow steps back to herd the rest of the group. You reach out to grab Stiles's hand, which rests behind his back, and he grips yours in response.

Our only option is up, Stiles says.

You answer, Up is better than here.

Screws start falling out of place and your heart beats at the tempo of the banging. That was the cue for everyone to hall ass upstairs, and as you guys make it, the creature breaks down the doors. The chairs in the way slow him down and you thank your idiot friends for placing them there.

You run into the nearest classroom, locking the door as if the werewolf couldn't just rip the door off its hinges. Everyone tries to slow their breathing when a figure ghosts by the frosted glass. Out of instinct, Stiles crowds your space, holding you against him. The figure stays for a beta too long before leaving. It knows you're here. What the fuck.

You turn in Stiles's arms to stare up at him, and he just sighs, wishing this nightmare would end already.

You feel the same and leave his warm embrace to search for a way out, Could we unlock this and leave?

Stiles whispers, It's a deadbolt.

The janitor will have it though, you reason.

His body will have it. No way.

I can get it, Scott announces. He comes closer to us, I can find him by scent. By blood.

Scott is a werewolf. But not the werewolf. Does that mean Stiles is one too?

Scott decides for himself, I'm getting those keys.

It's Allison who says what's on everyone's minds, Are you kidding? You can't go out there unarmed.

Scott picks up a ruler and thankfully Allison doesn't slap him upside the head. Looking around, you realize which classroom you're inside.

He won't be unarmed, you say making a move to the cabinet. You start pulling out supplies and Jackson isn't amused.

What are you gonna do? Throw acid on him?

Lydia answers, Yes, that's exactly what he's gonna do. Sort of. There's everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.

Stiles stares, dumbfounded, while you and Lydia work on the concoction. Jackson tries to help, but you don't let him, eager to finish yourself.

In record time, you hand Scott the bottle, sending him off with a thank you. He is risking his life after all, even if he's a werewolf. He smiles in appreciation and Allison steps in, not prepared to see him die.

Scott, just stop. Do you remember when you told me you knew whether I was lying or not, that I had a tell? Well, you have one too and you've been lying this whole time.

You look to Stiles and he can feel the angst bubbling in his chest. You don't say anything and it makes him feel worse.

Scott looks to his best friend, in similar anguish, Lock the door behind me.

Allison pulls him in for a kiss and you look to Stiles yet again. For a split second, he envisions that it's you two in that scenario, that you're kissing him goodbye with all the passion you have. It helps that you stare back at him, but your face is cold.

You turn away, angling yourself out of his space, and go to sit with Allison.

Later on, after you've been saved by Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles catches up to you. He starts to open his mouth but you cut to the chase, Please don't. I don't want to hear any bullshit excuse.

I promise I won't try to dick you around right now, okay? But we have to talk about what happened there.

Do you want to talk about the werewolf who has almost killed me twice? That you knew was lurking around and didn't think to mention to me? Instead, just giving me cryptic messages about being safe and staying out of the woods?

Well- yeah, kinda. He loses his momentum.

I already know Stiles, I don't want to talk about it. Especially if Scotts is one of them. Do you realize that he could have killed us too? Why didn't you tell me? Why lie?

His momentum kicks back up Because I was trying to protect you? Are you kidding? If you knew it would only place you in more danger. You didn't have to know, everything was fine without you knowing. Now it's just more stress, another problem to add to the list.

That's what I am to you? Another problem to add to the list?

No- that's not-

No, whatever Stilinski. Consider me, not your problem anymore. I can take care of myself. And I promise to protect your friend's little reputation. Just stay the hell away from me.

And with that, you walked away, and for once, Stiles didn't try to follow you.

It's Friday night, and Stiles wishes that he had followed you. Argued with you about your safety. At least then he would have had more time with you. The friendship that had been cultivated now turned to ash. He had tried texting the morning after. Nothing. He had tried talking to you in school. Nothing. It was like he didn't exist all over again.

And it was unbearable.

Stiles only had one solution, learned from years of living with his dad. Alcohol could solve any problem, albeit temporarily. And because of Scott's recent return to loser-ville, Stiles figured the boy would also need some liquid courage to get back on his feet.

After more than a few sips, (try half the bottle), he could safely say that he was feeling pretty damn good. As long as he didn't think of you. Which was hard. But doable.

Scott on the other hand had discovered that because of his supernatural abilities, alcohol had no effect. Bummer. But not Stiles' problem.

You also weren't Stiles' problem anymore.

Fuck, no, don't think about her, he told himself.

Dude, don't think about her alright. She's one girl in a fish of a million seas.

Scott just laughed at his drunken friend's antics, but Stiles was on a mission to cure himself and the other boy.

I'm serious alright. Fish are like girls and sometimes in the sea, you want a specific one. And she's everything, the perfect fish. So you go fishing in the fish sea. And you manage to catch her. It's not your fault if she hops out of your hands, you know. You just have to keep fishing and hope she comes back. I really want her back.

Scott punched Stiles in the arm, and the boy yelped like a dog, What the hell man? he whimpered.

You told me to hit you if you talked about her. Said the pain would clear your mind.

Right, yeah, Stiles nodded his head. It's just hard not to think about her. Or talk about her. I really miss her- OW. Being alone is way worse.

Scott agreed, saving his friend from another bruise-earning hit. Stiles definitely was worse without you.

You really hadn't wanted to go dress shopping today. But Lydia had convinced you by saying it was a girl's day and that you had to get out of the house at some point.

She was annoying but she wasn't wrong.

So here you were, looking for dresses for a dance that you definitely wouldn't go to. Turning your head, you felt someone's gaze. Locking eyes with the one person in the entire world you didn't want to see, you cursed aloud.

The lady next to you looked appalled by the profanity and you squeezed by her, eager to get away.

Stiles felt his heart shatter all over again- you couldn't even look at him? Was it really over?

Ducking into a separate section, you found Allison who looked at you skeptically. You told her who you saw and she had the nerve to laugh at you. If you really didn't care about him, you wouldn't have run away.

First of all, Allison, you sneered, I didn't run. I walked politely away. And second of all, I don't care about liars. And he is a liar.

I wonder if he's going to the dance too? Allison questioned.

Probably not, he hates school functions.

Perfect, so you wouldn't mind me setting him up with Lydia as a little revenge right? Your jaw dropped.

Like I said Allison, you recovered yourself, I don't care about liars. Or who they go to this stupid winter formal with.

You did care. Like a stupid idiot, you cared very deeply about who stupid liars went to the goddamn winter formal with.

It was the day of the stupid winter formal and Lydia and Allison had to drag you out of bed. They wouldn't take no for an answer. They also wouldn't take, get the fuck out and I'm going to punch you guys as answers either.

They dressed you up like a doll, despite your protest of having no date.

Don't worry sweetheart, I found you a date, Lydia replied.

You wished she wasn't so well prepared.

They finished and you had to admit, you looked fucking great. A sneaky part of you hoped Stiles would see you.

Shaking that thought off you drove Lydia to the dance, Allison having already been picked up by Jackson.

Arriving at the function, you had just parked when a gigantic blue jeep pulled up right next to you. You've got to be fucking kidding.

Stiles and you climbed out at the same time, yet the boy didn't even realize it was you until you made your way behind the cars.

Fuck, she's beautiful, was his first thought.

Your first thought was, this goddamn idiot can't park for shit.

You look really beautiful. And Lydia you also look pretty.

Lydia scoffed as you said, You can't park for shit.

Thank you, he said not taking a beat.

There he is, Lydia said, pointing to a tall guy in a tux. He had soft brown curls and a sheepish smile. He was cute, you had to admit.

You walked over to your date and introduced yourself, eager to leave Stiles' puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, I know who you are. I'm Issac. Issac Lahey.

Nice to meet you Issac, you said looking back to see if Stiles was watching, he was.

You hugged the boy for show and then suggested heading inside.

Issac was truly nice and you were having a fun time. But still, you couldn't help but search for Stiles in the crowd.

What happened between you guys, Issac asked, spooking you from your longing.

He lied to me about something serious.

Judging from the way that he also won't stop looking over here, I think it's safe to say he regrets it.

He's not looking over here, is he?

Every time you look away, he looks back. It's like you guys are agents or something. The push-pull is insane. My feelings should be hurt, but this is more painful to watch.

I should talk to him, shouldn't I?

Only if he apologizes the second you get over there, Issac laughed out.

I'm sorry, you deserve a lot better, you told him.

Maybe, but if I were you, I would do the same thing. Just make me a promise.

Anything.

When you see me in the halls, say hi. Or if we have a class where we can pick seats, and he isn't there, sit by me. We could be friends, and I really would like to be.

This time you hugged him because you wanted to, Of course, Issac. You really are nice and very cute. I'd love to be your friend, we can exchange numbers in class or something.

Yeah, I'd appreciate that.

With that, you made your way over to Stiles' who had just been abandoned by Lydia.

His eyes bulged as you made your way to stand in front of him. Get up.

He was quick to obey, but nervous to speak.

Wanna dance?

Yes, he breathed out, taking hold of your outstretched hand.

The pair of you walked onto the dance floor, getting into slow dance positioning. His arms were hesitant once you waist, as you encircled yours around his neck. You looked at each other for some time before he broke the silence.

I'm sorry for lying to you. I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't even know if you wanted to know. I know you shouldn't have known. Knowing is what caused you to be at the school. God, you were in so much danger for nothing. I'm sorry.

As he spoke, Stiles' hands tightened their grip. Please forgive me. I miss you. I miss you so much. Can we please just be friends again?

Promise not to withhold any more vital secrets?

Pinkie swear, cross my heart, and hope to die.

I missed you too, you admit.

His smile grew wide, Really?

Of course, genius. You're pretty cool to be around.

The two of you dance for the rest of the song until Jackson breaks the moment. Have you guys seen Lydia?

That sends you three into a manhunt for the strawberry blonde. You luck out when you go searching outside, seeing her figure illuminated by the lacrosse field lights. You call out her name and she meets you halfway.

I thought I saw Jackson.

Jackson's looking for you, with Stiles and I. Come inside, it's freezing out here.

No, I swear I saw somebody.

It's then that you notice, that you see someone else too. Lurking beyond the treeline. Goosebumps find your arms once again, and you can't deny that their cause isn't the chill in the air. It's the werewolf. He's here.

Lydia, we have to get inside, now!

The two of you try to run, but the man/werewolf is in front of you in an instant. He grabs Lydia and slices her in the stomach before launching her body into the air. It slams onto the ground as you hear Stiles in the distance begging for you to run. But you can't. That's Lydia he might have killed.

Not carrying a weapon, you use what you have, your fist. It connects with the dude's cheek but he seems unfazed as his claws plung through your dress and into your abdomen.

Pain blossoms through your body, your muscles on fire while they are torn apart.

LET HER GO!

Stiles skids to a stop, just in time to catch your falling body as the werewolf lets go. Blood bubbles up, staining the dress and Stiles' hands as he tries to put pressure on the wound.

You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay, he chants like a prayer, more for himself than you. This was his worst nightmare.

Doesn't look that way to me, the werewolf remarks. Then he crouches down to be level with you two. He listens as both heartbeats skyrocket at his presence, fear radiating off them both. But different kinds of fear, both over the same reason, your life. This should be interesting. He takes his claws out again, and you gasp, moving closer into Stiles' arms. Where's Derek?

I don't know!

The werewolf hears Stiles' heart skip a beat, You're lying.

He moves to grab your throat. claws ready to puncture through your skin. Let's try this again, where is Derek?

Stiles panics, I'm not sure! I have an idea but it's not 100%.

Well, if you want your pretty little girlfriend to live, then you're going to take me to him. The werewolf hears the boy's heart skip a beat again.

Taunting him, he continues, You really like her, don't you. Better hurry up before she bleeds out on the field. Though she would make a pretty corpse, wouldn't she.

Stiles locks eyes with you, worried that if he leaves, you really will die on this field.

Don't worry, I'll be fine. Go. Please.

The boy reluctantly places you on the grass and goes to walk with Peter. It takes everything in him not to run back to you and stay with you. He can't even let himself look back at your crumpled form, because his resolve would shatter, and then you really would die.

You don't make a move to stand until after his body has disappeared into the trees. You manage to stand as Jackson calls out for you. You take a couple of steps before blacking out. This time, Stiles isn't there to catch you.

Stiles instead finds you at the hospital, struggling to breathe on your own,, hooked up to various tubes and machines. As if his heart could take anymore.

It's then that his dad calls out his name. He only has time to face him before the older male slams him into the windows of your hospital room. The glass vibrates at the intensity, but Sherif Stilinski's voice booms louder, Where were you? What happened to these girls?

They were attacked Dad. I didn't do it, I swear. Come on, you know I would never hurt her like this.

And the Sheriff does know because you literally are the girl of his dreams. Always has been. The man calms down, wrapping his arms around his son, Are you alright?

I'm fine. Is she?

Whatever attacked her, cut her pretty deep. Same with Lydia, plus both girls are having an allergic reaction. Maybe venom in the claws but I'm not sure what kind of animal could have venom and wal on land to attack them this way.

Stiles can't tell his dad that it's not venom. Can't tell his dad that their bodies are rejected by the werewolf curse that's now been placed upon them. Can't tell his dad that now you're really fucked. Can't tell his dad that his best friend is missing. Wait?

Has Scott been by?

No, he's MIA as well.

Which means that Stiles is pretty sure he knows where to find the boy. Maybe he can convince Scott to stay a werewolf for your sake. Beg for your life. Anything to spare you from what Scott has been through. Anything for you.

When Peter asked if Stiles wanted the bite, he had a moment to think of how his life would change. He would have the strength to protect you, speed for lacrosse, and be able to tell if people were lying which could help his dad on cases. Yet, he still denied it.

Maybe he should have accepted. Would it be easier if you both were werewolves?

10.

After Peter had been successfully killed, Stiles wasted no time rushing back to the hospital. He wanted to be there for when you first opened your eyes. Hug you and tell you how sorry he was. Tell you how Peter had been killed so you would be safe.

But your body still was fighting, and his hopes were dwindling by the second. There was no cure. If you turned, you turned. But also if you didn't turn, you died.

The thought had him on the verge of tears, which began their descent down his cheeks when you squeezed his hand.

Looking to your eyes he saw them flutter open. He helped take the breathing machine off your face, so you could talk. Yet he jumped ahead, I'm so sorry.

It's okay Stiles, I'm fine, you croaked out, totally not sounding fine.

Do you feel magically healed? he asked through tears. You just gave him a look of confusion, so he continued, Do you feel fine as in you could run 10 laps?

Definitely not, why?

He cut you pretty deep.

I know, I can feel it, you deadpanned. What was he not saying?

You don't get it. You can turn into a werewolf from the bite, or if the claws go deep enough.

Your heart rate monitor spikes and Stiles feels his do the same.

Oh god, am I turning into a werewolf?

Stiles offers what little comfort he can, I'm not sure. But at least you'll have Scott and I to help you through it. You'll be alright.

That settles you slightly but leaves Stiles with a pinched heart. Cause, he is sure that you'll be fine. And doesn't want to tell you that you only have two unsavory options. Death or the supernatural.

All that is he 100% certain of, is that he will do anything to make sure that you live as peacefully and happily as possible. So if that means withholding the truth now and suffering for it later, so be it. Because if he suffers for this later, then it's because you're alive and healthy enough to argue with him.

****

A/N: omfg this took me all day- but it was fun I can't lie. let me know if you want a part two or something like a season two version with the same pairing! love you all and thank you for reading!

#signed dainty 💌#fanfic #reader insert #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #fiction #stiles stilinski x reader #x reader #stiles stilinski x you #teen wolf x reader

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