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moonlinos · 7 months

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Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back.

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday.

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

2K notes · View notes

jinnie-ret · 1 year

Text

heatstroke

stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: heat stroke, vomiting

word count: 1.9k

summary: y/n suffers from heat stroke on the day of their performance at lollapalooza

As voted by you!

It's finally here! Sorry it took me a while to post this after the poll ended, but I hope you enjoy!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

They had made it to Paris. Y/N couldn't believe how big the crowd would be for their performance at the festival 'Lollapalooza'. The sun was shining, and all she wanted to do was fully appreciate the nice weather. Although, where there was a Changbin, there was always chaos.

"Hwang Hyunjin!" Changbin called from opposite Y/N in his deck chair.

"Why do you keep calling me? Wae? Wae. Wae?" Hyunjin loomed over Changbin in a hoodie and sunglasses, wondering why the older member wanted his attention.

"Jinnie how are you wearing a hoodie right now? The sun's out, it's boiling," Y/N raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's not that hot," he shook his head at her, probably side eyeing her from behind his shades.

Each to their own, Y/N thought.

Somehow they came onto the topic of noodles but Y/N wasn't really fussed, she had ramen all the time back home.

She was more trying to relax, and she couldn't help but fall asleep from the comforting warmth of the French sunshine.

"Y/Nnie, wake up, you look like a tomato," Jeongin shook her awake, and as she became fully aware she realised her arms and neck was feeling quite hot.

Shit, she forgot her sun cream.

"You good? Your arms are so red," Chan peered at her, concerned.

"Mmm, my neck feels hot too," Y/N sits up in the deck chair, brushing her hair back so the boys could see.

"Aish that sunburn looks bad, you should have put on some suncream," Felix lightly brushes his finger over her red arm, making her wince.

"Gosh, I'm going to look like a tomato when we perform," Y/N laughs as she looks down at her arms.

"At this rate you won't just look like a tomato, you'll look like the whole garden," Lee Know smirks, proud of his joke.

"Ha, ha, very funny Lee Know," Y/N pats his cheek in a jokingly patronising way, smiling back at him.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Y/N," Chan looked over her, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry Channie, I just wanted to enjoy the nice weather," Y/N pouted.

"You do realise you can get skin cancer if you burn too much?" Seungmin pointed out, taking a sip of water from his bottle.

"Yah, Seungmin don't say things like that I'll get paranoid," Y/N whacks his arm lightly.

"Hey I'm just saying, your skin will age faster too," Seungmin shrugged.

"I'll look like an old woman next to you guys and I'm the youngest!" Y/N laughed, Han appearing with aloe vera out of nowhere and gently rubbing it into her skin, letting out quiet apologies when she winced.

"That's why I'm helping you, don't want you to look like a 60 year old next to us whilst we still look the same," Han laughed loudly.

"Haha, that would look kinda funny though," Y/N laughed at the thought. Perhaps she'd look like grandma I.N with the rest of the group alongside her.

"You know what else would be funny?" Changbin wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"What?" Y/N asked curiously, shifting her body to stand and face him.

"To see you dancing on stage like a tomato, everyone going crazy because of how big and red you are," Changbin maniacally giggled.

The boys burst out laughing at the statement and Y/N's face.

"Huh? Big?!" Y/N gasped laughing.

"I was talking about your cheeks, they're really big and red right now," Changbin laughed, waving his hands in defense of how what he said had sounded.

"Haha, I'll introduce myself like, hi! This isn't Y/Nnie, I'm tomato today!" Y/N put on her stage voice, pretending to introduce herself to her fans.

The members all laugh at her, Jeongin walking up to her and tickling her sides.

"Hey! Are you the new mascot for ketchup?" he cheekily grinned, eyes disappearing through his smile.

"Yah! Jeongin!" Y/N guffawed from his remark.

"Ah, our tomato is blushing so much," Lee Know pats her head smirking.

"Stop, stop," Y/N waves them away.

"Haha, seriously though, come inside the tent for a bit, you should stay out of the sun," Chan guided her into their tent where they were setup before their performance.

"Yeah it's not like we're performing until a few hours anyways," Lee Know nodded, as they all sat around inside.

"Aish, I'm tired," Y/N laid her head down in Han's lap, his hand brushing through her hair out of habit.

"You were literally just napping," Hyunjin raised a brow at her.

"Yeah but..." Y/N closed her eyes feeling relaxed at the familiar feeling.

"Drink some water first," Hyunjin put a bottle of water with a straw in it to her face.

Still with her eyes shut she took a sip and then relaxed. It wasn't until a couple of hours later that she was woken up and ushered to the stylists and makeup artists to get ready.

The crowd was insane. And really, they were the only thing keeping her going as she could feel her energy depleting. She didn't notice the glances from the boys throughout the performance, occasionally spotting her swaying yet she still managed to keep her vocals stable as they performed Superbowl for the first time ever, and Item for the second time ever.

The euphoria running through her veins began to leave her once they reached backstage. With a smile she listened to Felix end their set to hype the crowd with Seven Nation Army. But she couldn't help her slumped figure as she sat down after her desperate search for a chair.

"You good, Y/Nnie?" Chan patted her shoulder, trying to get her attention.

"Hot," Y/N panted, tugging at the collar of her leather jacket that she had been fitted with for the stage performance.

"Take it off then," Changbin helped her shake it off, now feeling concerned at her heavily sweating state.

"What's going on with Y/N?" some of the other members asked as they walked over.

"Ugh, my head," she groaned, now leant forward as she gripped onto her knees for some stability.

"Have some water, silly," Seungmin encouraged her to take his own, yet her shaky hand wasn't very reassuring to the others.

"Y/Nnie, you can't even hold onto it, are you dizzy? What's the matter?" Felix poured out questions, worried about the state she was in.

"Mmm," Y/N nods, as Jeongin helps her sip from the water bottle.

"Ah that's not good," Hyunjin shakes his head, frowning.

"Here, come on, let's get you relaxed somewhere else," Changbin helps her stand, yet as her body becomes upright she stumbles, Lee Know helping to support her balance.

Y/N suddenly tears up, feeling scared about how she was feeling. It was all too overwhelming, and everything felt too hot.

"C-can't feel my arms," Y/N whimpered as tears fell down her cheeks, the boys murmuring amongst themselves worriedly.

"You can't feel your arms?" Felix asked, a scared look on his face, and that made Y/N feel worse, she didn't want the boys to be stressed out for her sake.

"I'm sorry, I..." Y/N trailed off, still panting as she was guided back to her chair, the boys deciding it was for the better for her to rest for now where she was, instead of moving her somewhere else.

"You're okay. Everything is going to be ok, sweetheart, we've got you, yeah?" Chan hushed her soothingly, Han rubbing her back in small circles.

"Should we call a medic?" Jeongin asked, eyes wide with uneasiness.

"Yes, good idea, Innie," Lee Know nodded at him, as they both went to look for some help.

"Y/N, you're ok, you're going to be ok," Hyunjin quietly comforted her, a light grip on her hand as he knelt down beside her.

Y/N groaned again from her headache getting worse.

"Where are those medics?" Changbin asked, looking around frustratedly with his hands on his hips, wondering what was taking so long.

"Don't... worry... don't waste... on me..." Y/N could barely get her words out, especially as a wave of nausea overcome her.

"Yah, it's not a waste, you're clearly not well right now Y/N," Han looked sullen, now fanning her face with a piece of paper he had found.

"S-sorry... ugh, feel... sick," she mumbled dizzily, slumped in the chair.

"You feel sick?" Hyunjin worried.

"I'm gonna... ugh," Y/N, with all her willpower, lifted herself out of the chair, yet it wasn't enough to keep her standing as she collapsed to her knees on the ground and threw up whatever was in her system. The boys were unable to catch her and yelled out as she fell.

"Y/N! Shit!" Changbin held her against him.

"Where are the medics?!" Chan yelled angrily, stress consuming him as their maknae was on the ground.

"Ah, ugh, I'm, ah I'm sorry," Y/N whimpered, tears running down her face from her own panic and the feeling of throwing up.

"You don't have to be sorry, it's ok, just take a deep breath," Han held her hair back, looking around at the boys with his eyes shining with his own tears as he feared she wouldn't be ok.

Y/N threw up again, gasping for breath.

"Is that all of it?" Hyunjin whispered from beside them, Y/N tearily nodding as she slumped back in Changbin's arms, feeling dazed.

Lee Know and Jeongin suddenly rushed over with the medics, both of them seeming angry.

"Finally! Where were they?!" Chan asked them, sighing disappointedly.

"Packing up, they were ready to go even though we only just finished performing," Lee Know gritted his teeth as the medics lifted Y/N onto a stretcher and took her through to a medical room, much cooler with air conditioning blasting through the room.

They held a wet cloth against her forehead and against her burns to try and lower her body temperature. The boys couldn't do anything but wait anxiously as they saw their youngest laying down and getting treated.

"Her temperature is dropping, that's a good sign," the medic said out loud to the boys.

Half an hour had passed and Y/N was now more aware of her surroundings, the medics clearing that she could head back to the hotel with the boys, telling them that if her condition worsens again that they need to call an ambulance immediately.

"I'm sorry," Y/N sleepily muttered as they helped her into the company cars.

"Don't apologise, we were more concerned about you," Seungmin informed her, an arm wrapped around her waist as he and Hyunjin guided her into the back of the car.

"That's why I feel bad," Y/N bit her lip.

"It's ok, you can rest now, don't worry about it ok? I know it's easier said than done but we'll make sure you're ok, and we're doing that because we care about you, yeah?" Chan said from the front seat.

"Ok, ok," she yawned, head leaning against Hyunjin's shoulder.

Once they arrived back at the hotel they didn't let her stay in her own room, as she instead was looked after by Lee Know and Jeongin in another, the two of them making sure she was relaxed and not too hot as they kept the air conditioning on. It may have felt a bit cold for them at one point but they didn't mind, they'd do anything for her. All of the boys would.

tagged: @skz-streamer @oo-li

#skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x reader #straykids imagines #skz fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz 9th member #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #skz ninth member #stray kids ninth #stray kids ninth member #stray kids 9th member

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moonstruckme · 1 year

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could i request Scamander!Reader x Remus Lupin? Maybe they have been going on dates for a few months but turns out she knew he was a werewolf? She just didn't say anything cause she wanted to wait for him to tell her, but after a full moon, Remus got hurt like really really bad so when he wakes up the next morning he is at nursing and the reader is helping with his wounds (cause she's an scamander so she obviously should now how to fix werewolfs wounds fr)

and remus kinda freaks out because she isn't supposed to be there and starts trying to make excuses about his wounds

Thanks for requesting! I'm not a Scamander myself hehe so I had to look up some werewolf stuff but I hope this is alright :)

Remus Lupin x Scamander!reader ♡ 653 words

Remus wakes feeling like he always does after a full moon: exhausted, groggy, and so, so sore. From the brightness against his eyelids and the sounds around him, he knows he's in the infirmary. It's not uncommon, and as humiliating as the whole ordeal can be, he's glad to have Madam Pomfrey to care for him as he heals from the previous night's...events.

But when he opens his eyes, it's not Madam Pomfrey that sits at his bedside, applying some sort of paste to the gouge across his ribcage.

He must inhale or twitch in his surprise, because your attention turns to his face, your hands stilling.

"You're awake," you say, looking at Remus with eyes full of kindness and sympathy. He feels like he might vomit. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he says, too sharply, and hurt flashes across your features. Remus' heart is pounding, but he forces himself to take a breath, muzzling his panic. Still, his voice trembles slightly as he asks, "Y/N, love, what are you doing here?"

You smile softly, and Remus knows he's forgiven. "I knew there was some dittany in the greenhouse, so I thought I'd bring some to help heal you."

"I..." Why weren't you asking more questions? You and Remus had only been dating for a few months, and you'd yet to see him in the aftermath of a transformation. He hadn't had to lie to you yet, to make up excuses for why he missed days of class every month and reappeared with new scars. "I was out with Sirius and James last night, and we got fairly wasted." He forces what he hopes is a sheepish grin, though it doesn't feel very convincing. "I took a tumble down a hill, and well..." he gestures to his torn-up torso, shrugging as if it's just further evidence of he and his friends' foolishness.

"Remus," you say, and the nausea is back, your tone far too knowing for Remus' liking, "honey, it's okay. I wanted you to be able to tell me in your own time, but after last night..." You pause, your face pinching in distress as your eyes run over his wounds, ugly and oozing. "I couldn't just not help anymore. I'm sorry."

Remus' stomach is really roiling now, his entire body caught between fight and flight as he reckons with the shock of your admission and his bafflement at your composure. "You knew?" His voice comes out accusatory, but he can hardly muster the energy to correct it. "For how long?"

"I mean, it took me a couple weeks of getting to know you to figure it out." You shrug, going back to gently pressing the dittany to his wounds. "But really, Remus, it doesn't matter to me. I only care about being able to be there for you, to help."

A couple weeks, it'd taken you to learn his secret. So you'd known for months, while Remus had fretted over hiding his headaches from you and worrying that you'd eventually see him just like this, and now here you were. Remus takes a moment to look at you, the tenderness with which you touch him, careful to avoid hurting him further, the patience in your eyes as you wait for his response.

"You really aren't afraid?" he asks. Despite years of sharing all of himself with James and Sirius, Remus finds himself nearly unable to trust it. "Disgusted? Angry with me?"

The look you give him borders on offence, though there's still that same gentle sympathy in your eyes. "Merlin, Remus, of course not. I know it can't be easy for you, and I wouldn't expect you to tell me before you're ready. It's just...another part of you." You smile a bit, and Remus can't help but return it, bewildered and feeling very much on the precipice of falling in love. "And I like all of you, so there."

#remus lupin #werewolf remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #scamander!reader #remus x reader #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff

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bucksangel · 1 month

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Okay but imagine bunny has just been feeling so ill :((( and she’s so so sorry Bucky has to take care of her like this :( but she still tries to make him meals and keep up with her chores and be good for him :( even though he’s adamant that she not lift a finger until she’s better

Maybe he comes home one day and she’s crying and she’s apologizing because she knows he’s so stressed already with work and she’s just so so sorry for adding to that :(

And he’s just like “what are you talking about? why are you sorry”

And then she just hands him a positive pregnancy test and keeps apologizing for giving him one more thing to worry about

But he’s just immediately thrilled and is already thinking about how to decorate the nursery and he can’t wait to fuck the tears away while calling her his little mama

Anyway… I’ll see myself out… splendid writing as always my dear!!! <3

I’m literally laying on my stomach with my legs in the air and i’m kicking them and giggling, you’re so kind. And i looooove this idea so here’s a lil drabble :) (also you are always welcome to come back😭😭)

Title: An Odd Flu

pairing: sofdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: 18+ so minors dni, mentions of vomiting and being sick, so much fluff, minor angst, hints of abortion though it’s not said outright (only 2-3 sentences), soft love-making, sir kink, petnames (bunny, mama (but not in a mommy kink way)), fingering, dom!bucky, sub!reader, aftercare

main masterlist | run little bunny masterlist

Originally, you thought it was an odd case of the flu. You weren’t running a fever and you weren’t feeling overheated or freezing cold, but you were so tired all the time that you’d have to take a midday nap in order to stay awake long enough to have dinner with James. Then it was the vomiting, you’d wake up around seven in the morning and rush to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach.

What made things better was that James had been there for you, waiting on you hand and foot whenever he was home. He’d draw you baths and massage your back to relieve your sore muscles. He’d make you soup and tea, going so far as to feed you by hand. He would even cancel meetings if you were feeling especially awful.

But that’s where the problem lies. Leading up to your flu James had been stressed. There was meeting after meeting, paperwork the height of the Empire State Building, and calls coming in after the previous one ended. You already felt physically bad, but the fact that he’s become stretched even thinner has you feeling bad emotionally.

This morning in particular has been the worst of the last three weeks. You gagged when you went downstairs and smelt the eggs James was cooking and had to rush to the bathroom. Your headache felt more like a migraine and all you really want to do is curl up next to James in bed and have him rub your back.

But that’s not possible today. James had a meeting that he had been trying to organize for the past month and it was with people outside of the U.S., so there was no way he could miss it. He still offered to stay home anyway and let his right-hand man, Steve, take over, but you nearly cried when he suggested it. You didn’t want to mess anything up just because you were sick. So, at your insistence, he left with a kiss on your forehead and made you promise to call him if anything got worse.

The only stipulation was that you had to see a doctor while he was gone. His personal doctor, because of course he’s rich enough to have a personal doctor, agreed to come over and check you out.

It was when she got there that things started to feel… off. She noted your symptoms with a glint in her eye that told you she immediately knew what was going on. When she put away her tools, she reached into a different pocket in her bag, giving it to you with a small, knowing smile.

It was a pregnancy test. And suddenly you’re questioning everything. The morning sickness, the aversion to foods you once craved, the crying spells.

Then, you remember your period was supposed to start two days ago. When it didn’t come you just assumed it was because you were ill. Now, though, things are making sense.

That doesn’t stop the insecurities from creeping in. James has been so busy with work lately and this is just one more stressor to add to that. And on top of that, you haven’t been able to do as much cleaning or cooking as you normally do, as much as you want to do. James has been insistent that you not overexert yourself by doing your daily tasks, but you feel so bad that he has to come home from a long day of work to the house being a mess.

When you go to the bathroom, your hands are shaking as you hold the test in the proper position. You’ve always wanted kids, and you can’t imagine having babies with anyone else except James. He always takes care of you, is always lovely and patient even when he’s exhausted and snapping at everyone else, he’s the perfect man and would make a perfect father.

Your hands continue to shake as you wash them, and your whole body vibrates with nerves as you walk back out into the living room to see Doctor Romanoff packing the rest of her things. Her eyes are sympathetic when she senses your anxiety, and she carefully takes the test from you.

The five-minute wait is agonizing, you’re unable to sit still so you’ve been pacing back and forth around the living room awaiting the results. And when the timer goes off, your whole body goes rigid. Your back is to Doctor Romanoff when you hear her hum thoughtfully.

You know what that sound means.

It takes all your effort to turn around, but when you do you find her arm outstretched, offering you the test.

“I’m not sure if it’s the answer you want, but I’m here for whatever you need.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to take the test from her. And, with a big breath, you look down to see the little pink plus sign staring back at you, and tears immediately fill your eyes. You know that James wants kids, he’s very bad at dropping hints when you go to the store and pass by the baby aisle. But, he’s overworked right now, constantly answering calls and responding to emails, and you’re doubting if now is the right time to have a baby.

“Um, th-thank you,” You say weakly, looking up at her with a wavering smile. She nods, and you lead her to the front door and wave her goodbye.

The tears start falling when the door closes behind her, and you quickly rush to your room. You’re staring at the test through your clouded vision, worrying yourself over how to tell him. You know you need to, you want to. So, once you’ve calmed down you pull out your laptop and search for different ideas.

“Bunny, I’m home!” James sounds tired, exhausted really, though you hope the smell of chicken and vegetables will help him wake up a little.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Your hands are shaking so badly when you take the pan out of the oven, and you have to hurry to place it on the counter before you drop it. Suddenly, James’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and tucking his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume.

“What did I say about overexerting yourself?” His voice is soft, even though he’s clearly tired you know he’s about to march you upstairs and tuck you into bed. “You need your rest.”

“Well, I feel bad for not cleaning as much as I used to, and you’ve been so tired lately.” You pause, taking a large breath and turning in his arms so you can loop your arms around his neck. Your eyes start to water when you see his eyebrows furrow with concern. “Besides, it’s not going to go away any time soon. Google says that morning sickness can last up to 20 weeks and your doctor says I’m only five weeks along.”

James opens his mouth to say something, then promptly closes it when he registers your words. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his hold on you slightly loosening as he flounders for a minute. You can see in his eyes that he’s trying to piece together all of your symptoms from the last few weeks, and he’s a smart man, so it’s not a surprise that he figures it out pretty quickly.

“Are… Are you…?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Time seems to stand still, James seems to have frozen in place trying to sink in your words. And the longer the silence goes on the more worried you become, and a few tears slide down your cheeks.

“I-I know this isn’t the ideal time, and you’re extremely busy with work, but it just happened. I’m so sorry, I know this is just going to make you even more stressed, and I-I don’t know what you want to do, but –” You’re cut off by James pressing his lips to yours, his arms tightening around your body and pulling you into his chest.

The kiss is frantic, desperate, excited. And when James pulls back you can’t help but follow his lips with yours, trying to keep the kiss going. But James doesn’t give in, instead, he leans back enough to be able to look into your eyes. And his are glassy, filled with unshed tears as he brings up one hand to brush away yours with his thumb.

“Fuck, bunny. Don’t be sorry, never be sorry for this. Bunny, you’re – you’re giving me everything I’ve wanted since I first saw you.”

Loosening his arms around your waist, he drops to his knees, placing one hand on your hip and covering your stomach with the other. He stares at your belly with amazement, then pushes up your shirt so he can kiss your belly. Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, rubbing his scalp and running your fingers through it. After a couple of minutes, he finally moves back to look up at you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He smiles wide when you nod, more tears involuntarily sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m really pregnant.” Your voice wavers, but you’re finally at ease, no longer worried about how James would react.

“Fuck, bunny,” He whispers, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing your hips. He leans down, brushing his lips over yours and smiling a little when you whine. “You’re going to be such a pretty mama.”

James is unable to stop himself from lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. You bury your face in his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin until he gets to your room and lays you gently on the bed.

He doesn’t immediately climb onto the bed, he just stands at the end of the bed and stares at you with a mixture of love and lust. A few moments of silence goes by before you finally whine, wiggling your hips to hopefully entice him.

It works. James shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, smirking at you the whole time because your eyes are roaming over his bare chest, and you’re practically drooling when he gets to his pants.

“See something you like?” He chuckles when you glare at him.

“You know I do, so please hurry up. I want you inside me.” While you were teasing, you know you’ve made a mistake when his smile drops and one of his eyebrows raises.

“Where are those manners, bunny? Just because I knocked you up doesn’t mean I’m not still your Sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir! I-I didn’t mean to - I just -“ You stumble over your words, not worried about him punishing you physically, but you know he’s not above edging you for hours on end, and you’re sure you’ll actually cry if that happens.

“I know, bunny,” James coos, finally stepping out of his pants and boxers and kicking them to the side. Before you can say anything he grabs you by your ankles, then tugs you down the bed until your legs are dangling off the edge. “It’s okay, you’re still my good little bunny.”

You moan at his words, a pleasant fuzziness clouding your head. And then James helps you sit up a little so he can unzip your dress — his favorite floral one — and slide the straps down your arms. When he lays you back down he pulls the dress down and off your body, groaning when he sees your bare body, just as he likes it. One of his rules about living with him is that you’re not to wear panties or a bra, you have to always be ready for him.

You and James have never been more grateful for it.

“Fuck, bunny,” James groans and takes hold of his achingly hard cock, squeezing the base. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Going to make such a beautiful mama.”

“Sir, please.” Your eyes water, this time from frustration. You need him inside you immediately.

“Okay, bunny, okay, don’t worry your pretty little head.” James climbs onto the bed and arranges your bodies so he’s sitting against the headboard and you’re sitting on his lap, your back to his chest and your pussy resting over his throbbing dick.

It takes everything in you not to roll your hips against his, the only reason you don’t is because you want to be good for him. He seems to recognize this and lovingly kisses your cheek, humming softly.

“My good girl, my perfect girl,” James mumbles into your ear, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs and spreading them wide open, hooking your ankles around his calves. He drags one hand up to rest lightly on your stomach, his other stroking your thigh, climbing higher and higher until you’re practically vibrating with need.

“Sir.” You’re already sounding pathetic, but, to be fair, James has that effect on you. With only a few touches he can render you dumb, but you love it.

“What do you need, bunny?” James asks as though he doesn’t already know what you need. What you crave.

“You, sir. Always you.” Tears spring to your eyes, damn your hormones.

James sighs behind you, trailing his lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“You have me, pretty mama. You always have me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” His words make you sniffle, a few tears sliding down your cheeks.

You’re so lucky.

“Come here, bunny.” James urges you off his lap, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you. He leans on one elbow and reaches up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears, smiling softly when you nuzzle his palm.

“Are you going to let me love on you, pretty mama?”

“Y-Yes, please. Please!” You’re slipping even further into that soft space where nothing else matters except for James, except for Sir.

James leans down, brushing his lips against yours and chuckling when you whine. The moment he finally kisses you he slides his hand down your neck to your breasts, lighting tugging at one of your nipples before sliding down further until he can spread your legs. He only pulls back when his hand makes it to the inside of one of your thighs, cooing when you whimper.

“It’s okay, bunny. I’m going to give you everything you need.” He’s slow and careful when he inches closer to your soaking pussy, running his thumb along your lips and dipping in to gently rub your clit.

He teases you for a long while, staring into your eyes when he dips two fingers in your hole easily due to how wet you are. He’s slow and methodical as he slips in another finger, kissing your cheeks every so often to catch stray tears. When he finally decides you’ve had enough teasing he starts thrusting his fingers faster, crooking them upwards to hit your special spot.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to cum, both because of James’ expert fingering and because of his husky voice whispering praises in your ear. And it’s an intense orgasm, your body going so far as to squirt liquid all over his hand.

It does take a bit for you to come down from your high, your mind is too clouded and fuzzy from pleasure. But when you do come to your senses you’re in the bathtub, your back to his chest as you soak in the warm water. James’ hands are on your stomach, rubbing over it as though it holds a priceless gem.

And, to be fair, there is. The little baby growing inside you is going to be the most loved child in the world.

“James?” Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“Yes, bunny?” He kisses your neck, and you lean against him further.

“What, um—“ You wiggle a little, feeling his now only semi-hard cock against your lower back. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” James hums, suckling at your skin. “Tonight is about you, pretty mama.”

You’ll never understand how it’s possible to love someone as much as you love James, let alone be loved by such a perfect man, but you won’t question it.

tagging: @hisredheadedgoddess28

#let me know what yall think!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #dark!bucky barnes #softdark!bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #dark!bucky #my writing #my stuff

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ihtherik · 2 months

Text

When You Bare Your Teeth It Almost Looks like a Smile

Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav (not described)

Astarion’s POV

SFW/Fluff/Angst (seriously there’s no s€x here)

Summary: Set in Act 2 when the group begins scouring Moonrise Towers and Astarion and Tav encounter Araj Oblodra, the Drow blood merchant. She won’t take no for an answer, and learns why that is a very very stupid thing to do.

~3.2 K words

Bit of a deviation from the canon interactions/dialogue and what the outcome is because ummm little guard dog with her love that most certainly does doesn’t need one is a trope I LOVE and needed to vomit out a lil flash fic at 1 AM last night to perform catharsis help I also kind of made myself sad

I may get this posted on my AO3?

I also will post the next part of Turn My Heart to a Spade soon!!!

“Oh, but I’d prefer if you did.”

The sneering Drow’s reply to his assurances that he would not bite anyone doesn’t quite register for Astarion before she lets slip another gut-reeling string of words, this time directed at you.

“I assume he belongs to you? Judging by the way he’s clung to your shadow since you walked up…” her laugh is mirthful, the metallic smear of red around the blue-grey skin of her eyelids crinkling and cracking in her amusement. “It’s a truly remarkable boon, to have had a spawn at your beck and call during your trek through the Shadow-cursed lands. I’d be remiss and dishonest to say I’m not jealous.”

His pale brows furrow as an unfamiliar emotion hits him. Maybe unfamiliar isn’t right, but he’s been so long separated from it that encountering it again feels like meeting a stranger he’s all too wary of.

Much like how he felt when he met you.

Kind, generous, trusting, infuriating you.

Oh, how he loathed being proven wrong. Having his tried and true skills of determining who people are and what they want sidestepped, his—sometimes hastily drawn—conclusions about things tipped on their heads like a cat swiping a cup off a table. Mostly by you. Endearingly and maddeningly.

For Gods’ sakes, he is supposed to be the unpredictable, unreadable, unflappable one. It’s his armour. His sodding lifeline. When one is in control of their faculties and has only themselves to rely on, their ability to save themselves is entirely up to their skills, or lack thereof.

But you, you whose only purpose was to take a fall or stab (sometimes literally) for him, has somehow managed to get him to willingly hand over the one thing that could kill him.

His trust.

It had kept him from trancing, some nights, gnawing the inside of his lip to shreds while going over every possible scenario in which his trust could be wielded against him.

Yet thus far, you’d not only permitted, but encouraged him to hold the other metaphorical end of it.

Both in battle, and in his bedroll.

He wonders most days if you know. If you’ve caught onto what he’s now realized was a very poorly conceived ploy. He has to tell you, at some point.

There’d been a humbling, blind fierceness in every fiber of your being when you last drew your weapon for him—looking up at the devil Yugir as if he didn’t have his crossbow bolt aimed right between your glaring brows. You swung and hacked and sliced like it was your soul you were fighting for, not his.

You’d done more than received his trust, you’d earned the right to hold it.

And here he is, silently watching, pleading, mentally tugging on the other end like a child grasping at their mother’s shirt—hoping you feel it.

“He has a name,” your voice appears as even as ever to the average onlooker, and certainly to this Drow; but there’s a strain, a warning that Astarion can detect that, to him, feels like the gentlest tug back from your end on the rope.

“Is that so? How quaint,” the Drow tilts her head. Turning her attention back to him, she appraises him from his boots up to his curls with a gaze that makes that strange, ugly feeling swell again. “Do indulge me then, what are you called, spawn?”

“Astarion—but-hold on—“

“Well, Astarion,” the way her tongue flicks over every syllable of his name puts a crinkle of disgust on the slope of his nose. So unlike how you say it. Usually uttered, quick and delicate, the ‘Ah’ nearly clipped off—shortening it to ‘Starion. Familiar and sweet and warm. “I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl.”

His disbelief manifests in the way he stutters over his words, managing to compose himself into a semblance of his normal character by the end of his reply. “You—What? I’m sorry, You—you want to be bitten?”

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away? To dance between the edge of life and death? Yes, I want it.”

Though he’s already decided that this woman is, in fact, a stem short of a brain, the arrangement she proposes catches his attention. And not in any way that’s enticing. A likely dangerous and potentially faulty potion in exchange for drinking her blood is a shoddy deal at best, and a revolting one at worst. Her blood smells foul. Acrid. He can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, which only worries him more. Not a sort of sickly sweet smell of decay like Gale’s. Nor is it twinged with something medicinal like Halsin’s, or like the pleasant muddle of Shadowheart’s half-elven and half-human blood. And certainly not like yours.

Putting on all the politeness he can muster, which is already more than the Drow deserves, he replies.

“I will have to…erm, decline.”

“Excuse me?” The Drow scoffs, displeasure creasing the space between her brows. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you’re squandering it.”

“I gave you my answer,” he shocks himself with the lack of grace he speaks with, voice lowered and snarling. He used to be so good at evading people like her. What the Hells has gotten into him?

Tutting, the Drow turns back to you. “Can you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?” Addressing you like he’s not in the room, with scant more respect for you than she had for him.

Proving the Drow’s earlier observation right—as loyal as a bloody mutt—he looks to you, anxiety tightening the muscles over his stomach. The scenarios begin to churn in his mind, the worst among them not even that of you asking him to bite her to get the potion—but instead acquiescing his wants in front of the Drow only to reprimand or even punish him in some way later.

They come to a hilt as both he and the Drow await your move, holding his breath.

Then, you do something that manages to stun, relieve, and thrill him all at once.

You smile.

Though a half of a head shorter than him, and barely a few inches taller than the Drow, your presence seems to swell to intimidating heights among the three of you.

“My, you are slow on the uptake, Ms. Araj,” you speak with a lowered, gentle voice, one which commands the both of them to listen carefully—maybe even get closer, though at this point the Drow would have to have a death wish to get within stabbing distance of you. How dreadful, and disappointing, to Astarion; that the ominous and certain threat in your voice still yet seems to fly over the Drow’s head.

And how entertaining it will surely be to watch her pomp crumble in a few moments.

“My dear companion deigned to give you his name and answer, twice. I would pity the other acolytes and pilgrims here—if I cared for their lives—for the mere cruelty it is to converse with you in any capacity.”

Dear companion? Now this is new. And not…entirely unpleasant.

“I’m—sorry, I—“ the Drow’s poise wavers, though outrage still lines the edges of her voice.

“You will be sorry, if you do not shut your Godsdamned mouth while I speak,” you let the full fury of your voice be felt, though you have yet to raise it past what can be heard within five paces of the Blood Merchant.

As a meager credit to the Drow’s intelligence, she does snap her jaw shut. Astarion’s lips curl all the higher with each passing second.

“As I was saying—though I do not pity the acolytes here for the ordeal it must be to give you some form of station here, I think I have reason enough to remove you from it. For how you have treated my—for how you have treated Astarion,” your smile beams brighter, not a crease beneath your eyes to suggest you’re anything but seething. He realizes, in a way, you’re baring your teeth for him. The near possessive slip seems to loosen the anxiety in his frame, slightly. But your self-correction helps more.

“You may be a True Soul, but you don’t have any authority to—“ the Drow’s lips suddenly quiver shut again, but clearly not of her own doing. Astarion glances at you and his own tadpole wriggles as he feels yours come to life.

“I should have been more specific,” you sigh, your tadpole holding the Drow rigid. Brushing past him, you beckon with your finger as you move towards the balcony’s doorway across the room. The Drow begins to follow, feet shuffling awkwardly as the fear wells in her eyes. He’s not used to feeling planted to the floor, but for a moment he can only watch in gleeful disbelief at what you’re doing. He picks up his feet at the Drow crosses the threshold and slips out to the balcony with the two of you.

“When I said I had reason enough to remove you from your station, I meant that in less of a bureaucratic sense—I mean literally remove you from it,” you continue to hold the conversation calmly, one-sidedly, as you turn back to look at the Drow from the stacked-stone guardrail. You point and snap your fingers, gesturing to the one spot on this balcony where the stones have broken off and fallen down to the inky, boulder filled shallows at the bottom of the tower. The Drow moves even more resistantly as the psionic force from your tadpole urges her to obey, but eventually she stands at its edge.

“Tell me, Araj, would you like the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to feel what it’s like to fly? All you have to do—“ you lay a hand upon her back, just between her shoulder blades, giving her the slightest nudge. “Is step off.”

Astarion hears a strange, strained sounding humming, and realizes it’s the Drow trying to plead behind sealed lips.

“Oh—but it’s a simple exchange, really! And I’m a woman of my word. You step off, and I cast ‘Fly’ upon you. The only risk is if you fall too quickly, well—then my spell won’t reach you in time…and I’ve only seen it happen once before, but to fall from this height? Your body would pop like a champagne bottle thrown to the floor. Skin and muscle and bone will split, and all your warm guts and blood will burst and spray everywhere. What do you say? In my mind, it’d be plain idiotic to squander an opportunity like this.”

You turn back, meeting Astarion’s eye. Within yours, he can see a volatile mix ready to explode. Wrath. Outrage. A cruel hunger for revenge.

But even with those powerful emotions threatening to overtake you, there’s a tenuous thread of patience still wavering. Patience, and a question: that which asks for his permission. To not merely act or speak on his behalf, but decide whether or not to take this woman’s life for the affronts to his dignity and autonomy.

Indignation. Righteous indignation.

That is the feeling that’s been gnawing at him, the words for which he couldn’t recall until now. And it’s all because of you. Because you’ve refused to let him think of himself, talk about himself, treat himself, like a loaner to his own body and mind. Stepping off the wall, he approaches the two of you with a swagger.

First taking hold of a strap on the Drow’s armor, he then plants a steady foot on a piece of the stone guardrail to hold himself upright. Looking to you with a reassuring smirk, you step back, and with a rough shove Astarion sends the Drow’s upper half forward, dangling her precariously over the edge of the balcony. He lets her moan and protest wildly behind her teeth for a moment longer before nodding to you, and you release her from the hold of the tadpole. She takes a ragged gasp, as if preparing to scream, and he leans in to her ear.

“Now now, Araj, let’s not arouse any undesirable attention from the guards, hm?”

Stifling a groan of fear, her arms unsteadily pinwheel in the air as her feet try to find solid stone, and not the edge which Astarion has forced her onto.

“I think I’m feeling generous, so close to the overwhelming splendor of the Absolute—“ he mocks the name of the so-called deity that had proven itself a thorn in their group’s side thus far. “Whom, need I mention, blessed and deemed me a True Soul, just like my dear companion.”

Throwing a conspiratorial smile your way, it deflates only slightly to see your face set so tightly, all but trembling in anger. Not at him, of course. With a sigh, he tuts and yanks the Drow from the edge, throwing her to the stone floor of the balcony further in. She scrambles back from the both of you. Following her towards the door with unhurried steps, he tilts his head in the same mocking way she had before addressing her once more. “The next time someone tells you ‘no’, Drow, I suggest you not argue. You might not be so lucky next time.”

—

The two of you eventually reconvene with the remainder of your group, and after determining your next move you all settle within an abandoned wing of the tower for the night.

Neither of you relay what happened to the rest of your companions—and in turn don’t find an easy opportunity to address it with each other, until the others have gone to bed.

He finds you hunched over your pack, inventorying your potions yet again—worrying and fidgeting his hands and fingers as he approaches.

“I think we’ll come across more, we’ve not unlocked every door in this bloody tower,” he offers—sounding uncharacteristically optimistic. It betrays just how uncertain and uncomfortable he feels about what he’s actually come over to say to you.

“Ah, I know. Just a bit paranoid since we got here. We had our asses kicked out in Reithwin, then again when we took care of Raphael’s dirty laundry—and to walk in to that whole spectacle with Thorm? Gods above—“ you huff, coaxing a genuine smile to Astarion’s face. Finally you turn, rising from your crouched position with a tired, lopsided grin. It falters as you take in his expression, and Astarion worries he’ll collapse in on himself if you look at him for a moment longer like you currently are.

Like you’re concerned about him. Which you are. Like you care for him. Which you do.

Like you love him.

“Everything alright, ‘Starion?”

“Oh—yes, of course I’m fine-“ he stumbles over every word, his charming, easy, impervious shell cracking. “It’s just that…I feel—awful.”

You push aside your own exhaustion, giving him your full attention—of course you do. You ask him why. He’d almost rather pull his own fangs out than confess what he’s about to. But as you listen, as you take in everything he hurries and tries to explain or make excuses for, your expression does not change. Not for the worse, anyway. Those same shining, gentle eyes hold his, and make his undead heart swell. He makes sure to express his gratitude, for how you stood up to the Drow—but even more so for letting him decide.

“Well—yeah,” you sheepishly look down at your feet, scrubbing at the back of your hair. He almost can’t take it, how wonderful you are. “I wasn’t going to rob you of that satisfaction,” you joke. Sighing, you meet his eye again. “I was ready to kill her, Astarion. You know I was. But then… I wouldn’t have done anything for you. Not really. Who’d’ve been empowered if I’d done it? Definitely not you. So, sorry for almost doing that. I was…well, I was fucking pissed.”

He’s not sure if he can recall how to breathe. How could you be apologetic right now, when you were ready to defend him like some knight in shining armor? He came here to apologize to you, not the other way around.

“Hells, darling, I might find an opportunity to make you a villain yet,” he offers you a small smile, voice soft.

You reciprocate, your cheeks dusted with a blush illuminated by the few candles lit outside your tent.

“So, um…what you said—about forcing yourself through-does that mean our—erm,” you try to be so cordial, so empathetic, even though pain seeps from every pore at the implication of what he said.

“No—no, darling,” he rushes out, taking a breath. “Being…close to someone, it just…it was always something I did, had to do, to lure people back—for him. I—want us to be different. I know we are. But intimacy feels…” he struggles to articulate it, feeling your eyes on him even as his own flit around the shadows of the room. “…tainted. I just…don’t know how else to be with someone, no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you, Astarion,” you murmur after a heavy pause, and he manages to find your eyes again.

“Really?” He asks, throat filled with a bubble of emotion that threatens to burst.

And where words failing him and the inability to wield his body would normally make him feel completely hollow—a useless husk of a man—the embrace your arms suddenly surround him in makes him seem…whole. Solid.

And unfortunately, capable of dragging him down to the depths of sadness and pain with how heavy he now feels.

However, your arms around him remind him that you’re there with him. That you will be there with him no matter what, Gods and Devils and Mindflayers be damned.

Astarion remembers how to use his own as realizes they’ve been merely hovering, outstretched, and hugs you back. You tighten around him, sighing into his shirt.

He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face into your hair, into the crook of your neck—looking for those places he’d be happily cradled in for the rest of his thus-far miserable life.

When you eventually pull back—Astarion’s hands linger at your waist, his fingers almost curling around your shirt to tug you back in.

“You’re—um-full of surprises,” he musters a shaky smile, which you reciprocate, warmly.

“I am yours until you tire of me, Astarion,” you offer half-jokingly, the gravity of which does not go amiss in his mind.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I don’t sleep—so don’t get your hopes up for being rid of me, darling.”

Your eyes crease, nearly obscuring your irises as you smile.

“I love you, Astarion,” the words are carried from your lips on a breath as it slips out—falling tenderly as a kiss to his ears and piercing as true as an arrow through his heart.

You can tell as much, stepping forward into his arms once more to squeeze his hand and reassure him. “You—you don’t have to say it back. I just want—need you to know that. In the event we die tomorrow or something. Very real possibility, given our dwindling potions.”

“Oh. Well. If we’re telling each other things we need to know, I suppose I should tell you how I’ve been building a stash of potions I’ve erm…borrowed from you, then. You know, clearing guilty consciences and all,” he counters, squeezing your hand back. “I’ll share them with you—as a last resort—of course.” You snort, and then fall into a fit of giggles that he’s dragged into all too easily.

After a considerable effort and a number of failed attempts to stop laughing, a sharp ‘Tsk’va’ uttered from Lae’zel’s tent nearby finally manages to silence you both as you slip into his tent, you staying awake only long enough for him to clear the bedroll of clutter and shake the blankets out.

As you settle your cheek on his chest, snuggled up to his side, his lips press idle kisses to your forehead and hair, desiring to commit your smell, warmth, and weight in his arms to memory.

He eventually slips into a trance—for once, one not filled with crimson eyes and shadows and death—but your sweet smile, laugh, and the way those three words he once longed to forget sound in your voice.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #fluff #fanfic #short fiction

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demonpiratehuntress · 9 months

Text

dreams

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

summary - majority of your dreams seem to manifest in the real world somehow, so when you have one about your crush and your best friend...things get a little out of control.

warnings - heavy angst (im sorry), hurt to comfort

a/n: when i started writing for this fandom i PROMISED myself i would not make it all angst and no fun, but oh well :))))) idek where this idea came from, i need help

You woke up from a nap with the sickening urge to empty your stomach overboard. Nausea reared its ugly head, and before you could even try to tame the feeling, you were sprinting to the side of the ship to empty your stomach.

What exactly was the cause?

This would sound insanely ridiculous, and to you it really was, but you had a weird dream. And it didn't sit well with you. Most of the dreams you had often became a reality, albeit with slight changes. There were some that didn't, but almost all of them came true eventually or manifested in a similar way at some point.

And that's probably the reason you couldn't stop yourself from vomiting obscenely before your stunned - and confused - crew.

"(Name), are you okay?" Nami asked worriedly, coming over to you.

You flinched away from her, increasing her confusion, before turning and running off to the bathroom. She exchanged looks with the others who were out on deck - Usopp and Luffy - before shrugging it off and going back to mapping the ship's course.

The truth was, you had a completely unexpected yet maddening dream while napping, one that you prayed to any god who would listen would not come true. You had dreamed of Zoro - the man you had the biggest crush on - and Nami, which may seem an odd coupling and probably was but you couldn't control your dreams. Much like how you couldn't control how you felt about it, despite it only being a fictional idea your mind concocted.

You went straight to yours and Nami's room after cleaning yourself up, setting up the divider that separated your section from hers so you wouldn't have to deal with seeing her if she came in. Your behaviour was unfair to her, since you knew she would never do anything like that, nor did she have any romantic interest in Zoro. In fact, she barely had any interest in the swordsman at all. But according to your dream, that might change.

You curled up on your bed, pulling the blanket right up over your head to shield yourself from the real world. The familiar feeling of something wet running down your cheek informed you that you had started crying, but you couldn't care less. You couldn't move. You didn't have the energy to move, much less bring your hand up to wipe your tears away. So you just lay there, curled up in a foetal position, trying - and miserably failing - to get your mind off it.

A while later, a knock at your door caused you to jerk up in your bed, before you groaned and flopped back down.

"Go away!"

"Nami said you're sick," came Sanji's voice, "So I made you some soup. Please open the door."

You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't either of the two people you were currently trying to avoid. Slowly dragging yourself out of bed, you had to make even more effort to get yourself to the door. Forgetting that you had just been crying, you opened it and let the cook in, confused when his expression immediately grew alarmed.

"(Name), why are you crying??" He immediately set the soup down and pulled you into a comforting hug - one that seemed to be much warmer than usual right now.

"I-I'm fine," you mumbled into his shoulder, "Just not well."

He nodded, falling for your excuse, before pulling away to hand you the soup, "Here, this should help. If you need more, or if you need anything else, just let me know." He smiled at you, before leaving you alone once again.

You sat back down on your bed and ate the soup - because who can say no to Sanji's cooking, even if you're not really in the mood to eat? And it did help, the warmth helping to settle your queasy stomach and alleviate the nausea if only a little bit. Minutes after you finished it, there was another knock and you frowned, wondering who it was now.

You didn't answer, in fear of it being Zoro.

Just the thought of Zoro had you replaying that dream all over again, and before you could stop yourself or at least soften the sound, sobs were wracking your body and you were burying your face in your hands, crying into their warmth.

The door opened and a familiar set of heavy footsteps reached your ears before the bed dipped beside you. Your entire body froze up, tensing at the arrival of the green-haired swordsman. Your sobs fell silent, hiccups replacing them as you stilled and tried your best to quell your sadness - still keeping your face hidden.

"What happened?" Came that usually-comforting deep voice you loved so much, but that now caused your nausea to return. "What's wrong, (Name)?"

"Please go away," you found yourself speaking, not wanting to push him away but knowing you'd feel even more ridiculous if he found out how you felt about him while you were recounting a silly dream.

"No."

Usually the swordsman would leave without a word if you asked for space, or if you told him to go away, but this time he could see you were absolutely not okay and you needed someone. Luffy wouldn't be a good idea, Usopp wouldn't know what to do, and you seemed to be avoiding Nami. And he sure as hell did not want that stupid cook anywhere near you right now, in fear of him comforting you so well that the swordsman would lose you to him entirely.

You didn't respond to that, so Zoro brought his hands up to slowly and gently peel yours away from your face. You let him, shocking yourself, and the sight of your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face caused his heart to constrict painfully.

"Tell me what's wrong."

He held your hands in his own, not wanting to let go. He had waited so long to be able to hold them, and he was glad for this excuse to. But he was heartbroken seeing you so upset and apparently sick over something he didn't know about yet. He gently squeezed your hands, silently encouraging you to speak. He wasn't good with words, but if comfort was what you needed he would do and say whatever he could to make your pain go away.

"It's you and Nami."

He stiffened. He didn't know what that meant, but just hearing he was part of the reason you were so upset made his heart sink.

"What did we do?"

"It's...um...it's silly," you replied quietly, voice low but pain still evident. "It doesn't matter." You tried pulling your hands away, but Zoro only gripped them tighter.

"It does, if it's making you this upset."

Reluctantly, you relayed to him what you had dreamed about, voice cracking halfway through as more tears fell. You felt even sillier saying it to someone else, especially him, and avoided making eye-contact throughout the entire explanation. When you finished, you shot him a small, brief glance - only to do a double take when you saw the absolutely horrified and disgusted look on his face.

"Me and the thief?" He questioned, distaste clear in his tone. "You've got to be kidding me." He sighed, sneakily shifting closer to you on the bed. "That can't be possible."

"But-"

"Some of your dreams don't come true," he reminded you, "This is definitely one of those. You want to know how I know?"

You nodded slowly, biting your lip.

You did not expect his next words.

"Because I already dream about doing that with you."

Your jaw dropped. If you were like Luffy, it would have probably dropped all the way to the floor, you were so stunned by his confession. Your formerly slowed heartbeat picked up speed again, heat filling your cheeks as you processed his words.

"Me?"

"Mhm. Only you. Been a recurring dream, actually."

As you stuttered out an incomplete sentence and then stammered through some nonsense, Zoro leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against yours, locking you in a slow but sweet kiss. His lips were warm and soft, inviting you to lean into him and return the kiss. The affectionate gesture had butterflies blooming in your stomach.

"I'm sorry," you whispered once you remembered how to speak.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling you into a warm, comforting and secure embrace.

You sat like that quietly for a while, Zoro rubbing soothing circles onto your back while you clung to him, face buried in his neck. He kissed the top of your head every few minutes, in between mumbling sweet words of comfort into your ear - mainly "you're beautiful" and "i'm yours" because he didn't know what else to say. But it was enough for you.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"You should clear things up with Nami. She's upset because you're not talking to her."

"I know...later."

He chuckled and tightened his grip on you, keeping you warm and increasingly happy in his strong arms. He didn't intend on letting go, but that was good because you didn't want him to.

BONUS:

"STUPID MOSSHEAD!"

Loud banging and clanging jerked you awake the morning after your confessions, the sound of Sanji's loud exclamation having woken you - but not Zoro - up. He probably had woken up the others as well.

You tried to get up to see what was wrong, but Zoro refused to let go. He was still sleeping, but his arms wound around you even tighter, pulling you back against him. You sighed, knowing you could ask someone else later anyway.

Nami poked her head around the divider and smirked, "He's upset that Zoro finally confessed and ruined his chance to woo you."

You laughed at that, "Give him an hour, max. Then he'll try to woo you."

She groaned, "I'm already dreading it."

The two of you laughed, and it felt good to be back on speaking terms with her. Even though, strictly speaking, you hadn't had a reason not to be in the first place. But oh well.

The power of dreams...

#one piece #opla #one piece live action #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #opla zoro #opla x reader #zoro x you #opla zoro x reader #op #opla zoro x you

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greenunoreversecard · 7 months

Text

Don't hide your pain

-> Angel dust x reader

A/N: I made this of my own violation. I needed to therapize myself

Reader POV, ftm male, who's ✨️traumatized✨️

It always starts like this.

Things go well for a while. Things go great, even.

And then it gets bad. And it stays bad, and i ruin every close relationship and im alone.

And then it repeats.

I just wish I could be better. I guess that's why I'm at the hotel.

Things have been good for a while, so good, infact I though the cycle could be over.

Angel brought so much light to my life. He made me feel so happy, and wanted and needed.

And I was so much better. But it seems like the happier I was the worse i fall.

I sigh, rolling over in my bed, grabbing my phone. Fuck it's late in the day. Charlie will be upset, but i cant seem to care. I just- I don't wanna leave my bed.

I look away from my lockscreen, a blurry picture of angel in my Hoodie chasing after nuggets, who has his phone in his mouth, trying to run away with it. It caught angel off guard, and i was laughing so hard i couldnt get a steady photo.

Its one of my favorite memories. I feel a small smile tug at my lips, but my body and my face feel like led that I can barely move.

Theres a knock at my door.

"Hey, baby. Are you ok? Haven't seen you in a day, and I wanted to make sure ya alright.." I hear his quiet voice as the door squeaking lightly as Angle peeks in, silhouette gently illuminated from the light in the hallway.

I grumble in reply and roll over. He sighs, and for a moment I think he leaves but i feel him sit on my bed, next to me. I can feel his warmth. Despite having the features of a cold-blooded spider, he's always run rather hot.

He rests his hand on my back.

"Baby, I can't help you if you dont talk ta me"

Irritation rises in me.

"Don't. I dont need you. I dont need your fucking pity. Just fuck off, please." I say, voice rough and shoulders tense.

His determination doesn't deter, though.

"I don't pity you, love. I just wanna help."

I know my irritation is irrational, logically. But I can't help being angry. Angry I am this way, angry I'm so helpless. And I'm ahry he has to see me like this, considering he has it so much worse. He deserves better than this. Better than me. But I can't seem to stop the slow of my defensive anger, vomiting out words I'm uncertain seraid him I know they do me coming out my mouth.

"Don't pretend, angie."

"I'm serious, though. I want to help."

"Don't play with me. I don't need you, and I don't need your pity."

"Why are you doing this?"

This freezes me. I tense. I don't know why I do this. I don't know why I'm hurting him. I don't know why I'm hurting myself by hurting the only person thats treated me like a fucking sentient being..

I realise, at this point, he's as rigid as a brick, and I look over at him. He tears in the corners of his eyes, eyes slighrly red from the effort it takes to stop his tears. His hair is a mess, and he's shaking, God's he's shaking.

"I- please, sugar. I just wanna help you but- but I can't if you push us away. I you push me away. I- I don't wanna lose you. I can't fucking lose you. And I can feel you sliping and its- it's scary. Please, if not for you then for me."

At this, a sob wracks its way through my body, every viceral emotion I've held back hitting me like a dam destroyed. Apologies spewing through my lips like it's a lifeline. And in a way, it is. Because, I know hes right. And I know if I continue on the way I do, I'll be destroyed at my own hands. And I'll lose him, I'll lose my lifeline.

...

I don't know how long I cry for. It's all kind of blurry, really. I know i tell him everything ive hid from him about my life through choked sobs, and at some point he's holding me to his chest, gently stroking my hair, touch gentle but deep, afraid to let me go as if I'll disappear, or break like glass.

The good never used to last for long, but maybe this time I can make it last forever.

So long as I have him.

--------------

End note: vv rushed lmfao. Anywhore, hopes this gives a small gauge as to my writing style. I can also try my hand at different possibilities.

Hope ye likey likey

#no beta we die like jason todd #Hazbinhotel x reader #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #Hazbin hotel fic #Angel dust x reader #Angel dust x male reader #Hazbin Hotel x male reader #Angel dust #Angst #hurt/comfort #Angel dust fic #Hazbin hotel headcankn #Hazbin hotel one-shot #Angel dust one-shot #Angel dust headcanon

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skrittkicking · 1 month

Text

charr body types for practice, rambling nonsense under the cut

ive been trying to get better at drawing more varied body types for a while now and i think ive still got a long way to go but im getting there. fat and muscle definition werent something i bothered to learn for a long time because all i wanted to draw was twinks and dragons ... but in the last year or so ive really been pushing myself to do better. i think learning to draw different body shapes is really important and improves your overall anatomy skill by a mile, its also just really fun for me to think about how fat is distributed across the body and affected by gravity and all that stuff. bodies in general are my favorite thing to draw and what i spend the most time sketching

ok enough word vomit lets talk about my ocs

iovitus is supposed to be built more like an athlete, but im not sure i got that across very well. they're still skinny and comparatively twinky next to their fellow cats, but still strong and in good shape. after they left the legions they didnt really bother that much with the upkeep of their figure, but since theyre focusing more on mercenary work again they've been better about it

most of iovitus' muscle is in their shoulder & back, as their weapons of choice -- longbow and throwing axes -- require a lot of strength in that area. theyre very triangular shaped & top-heavy, with a broad chest & shoulders, thin waist and narrow hips. skipped leg day :/

nero is supposed to have sort of a dad-bod type of build. i changed a bit about his design as ive been tinkering around with his lore recently. she was always supposed to have some tummy to her, but i dont think i drew it very well in the past. i think a dad bod is very fitting because she is one after all

i also wanted to make her blind eye more obvious because i kept forgetting about it whenever i drew her so umm sorry babe. still need to come up with an explanation as to why it happened! was considering having him just born with it for a while, but i love scars and scary traumatic events so... sorry nero

in spite of the good layer of fat he's got on his body though, nero is very strong and muscular underneath it all. his warband doesnt do a lot of combat stuff anymore but he's still working most of the time and takes good care of himself. juicy thighs btw

ruckus... i dont have much to say about. i love you babygirl

she's so much taller than everyone else.... its difficult to notice in the line-up as they are, but i wanted to see so i lined them up in front of one another and. well. ->

look at her. and iovitus. why are you so small??

finally, lia! she's still small in comparison to most other blood legion charr, but she makes up for it in her strength. or, well, she might've in her younger years; at her current age she's definitely lost a lot of that muscle definition just by the nature of aging

thats not to say she's weak, though. she can and will definitely fuck you up if you try her

her burned arm is her main weak point. it was burned severely enough where the muscle and nerves were permanently damaged, resulting in a lot of stiffness, uncomfortability, and chronic pain. the movement in that arm is limited and she has to guard it closely if she's ever in a scuffle

i think in general a lot of muscle definition for charr is lost just cause they have fur to cover it up, evident by the fact you cant really see a lot of it on the in-game models. or at least thats my excuse for not knowing how to define muscle with lineart

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 year

Text

Note: requested by an anon!

Warnings: the sickness????

pairing: Sihtric x you (x Finan)

summary: keeping your pregnancy a secret during the sickness did not go as planned

wordcount: 1,1k

Masterlist

'I hump my wife whenever I want, yes.'

'What are you looking for, Finan?' Osferth asked.

'Bodies!' Finan answered, cutting through the tall grass while covering his mouth and nose with a cloth.

You, Sihtric and Osferth glanced at each other as you relaxed and laid back in the grass.

'Eh?' Osferth said for all of you.

'Bodies!' Finan shouted again, 'I know the sickness is close!'

'Why are you shitting yourself?' Sihtric taunts.

You snort at your husband's remark, who gives you a proud smirk.

'I've seen men as strong as bears at breakfast time,' Finan said, 'gurgling blood and pus by supper time! You little runt!' he snarled.

'Hey!' you gave Finan a disapproving look, but then grinned at Sihtric, loving how easy it was to rile the Irish man up right now.

You had been feeling a little under the weather yourself the past week. You knew if you told Finan, he would completely freak out, which could be funny, as you knew you weren't truly sick. But for Finan's own health, you decided against it.

Your travel continued, by foot. You and Sihtric walked with your fingers laced, and he kept you close at all times. Your husband noticed you hadn't been eating as well as usual, but to not freak Finan out, he decided to not bring it up yet, unless it would get worse or you would show signs of being ill.

Finan was the only one to hear you vomit one morning, near the river, and he stared at you, deadpan.

'The… the sickness,' he whispered with big eyes, pointing his sword's edge towards you from a safe distance.

'Finan,' you sighed and wiped your mouth, 'it's not the sickness, trust me,' you said and got up from your knees.

But as you set a step closer to Finan, the Irish man immediately took a step back. And so the dance began.

'Finan, don't be ridiculous!' you hissed, 'trust me, I'm fine.'

'Aye,' Finan said, 'and then catch the sickness myself, lady? I don't think so.'

You tried to walk back to camp but Finan blocked your way, from a safe distance still.

'Excuse me?' Your eyebrow raised so high, it almost hurt.

'You can't go back to the others,' Finan said firmly.

'Finan, you will let me go to my husband, right now, or I will cough in your face when you sleep!' you snarled.

Finan grimaced and took several steps back, allowing your passage back to camp, back to Sihtric.

Finan kept a close eye on you as the days progressed, and he was the only one aware of your early morning sickness. He did find it interesting no one else seemed to get sick like you, and he was especially puzzled that Sihtric didn't catch the sickness, knowing you and him were all over each other the whole day. Which kind of made Finan feel sick, but in a whole different way.

Unfortunately, Finan became more paranoid after the events earlier that day. You and the group you travelled with had been cornered, the only seemingly safe way out was through a river, which was filled with dead bodies, all victims of the horrible sickness. And it all spooked Finan even more.

'We can swim through!' your husband, the oaf, had blurted out, which you told him off for later, in private.

'Sihtric, why are you so reckless?' you asked.

'I am not!' Sihtric retorted, 'I just wanted everyone to get to safety.'

'By suggesting to swim through waters in which dead bodies lay? My love,' you sighed and rubbed your hands over your face.

You absolutely loved Sihtric, but sometimes you wondered how he was still alive, being the way he is.

Sihtric didn't reply. Looking back, he knew he had been reckless, and he felt bad.

'You know I meant well,' he mumbled.

'I do,' you took his hands, 'but, Sihtric, you have to promise me to try and be more careful. Because I really need you here, with me,' you kissed his cheek, 'alive and well.'

'Did you wash your hands?' Finan asked you when you were making their dinner later that day.

'Yes. I washed them in that river, with the bodies!' you offered Finan a mean glare, and he returned the same face.

He went to sit at a safe distance while keeping his eyes on you. Sihtric was resting under a tree, several paces away from you, while the others were scouting the surrounding lands.

'You will kill us all,' Finan whispered, 'all of us, lady.'

'Will you shut up!' you hissed, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Sihtric wasn't catching any of this.

'Does Sihtric know? That you're dying?'

'Finan, will you shut your mouth?' you groaned, 'I am not dying! I do not have the sickness!'

'Aye, that's exactly what someone would say who is dying, because of the sickness!'

'Okay, listen,' you said as you had enough, 'don't tell anyone else, okay? But I am not sick. I am pregnant.'

Finan stared at you.

'Pregnant?!' He then blurted out loud.

You tried to hush him, but it was already too late. When you looked back over your shoulder, you saw your husband awake and alert, sitting up in the grass.

'You… you and Sihtric have been fooling around during the sickness?' Finan grimaced.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Just because your cock stops working when someone sneezes, doesn't mean that goes for everyone else!' you hissed.

Finan flared his nostrils. 'Lady, my co-'

'My love?' Sihtric frowned at the heated interaction as he walked over, 'what is going on?'

'You humped your wife while the sickness is going around?' Finan asked, stunned.

Sihtric shrugged and gave Finan a proud smile, 'I hump my wife whenever I want, yes.'

'And you got her pregnant?!'

'Finan, no!' you yelled.

But it was too late. Sihtric's jaw had already dropped and his eyes were big, fixated on you.

'Is that… is that true?' he asked as he took your hands, 'darling are you… are we…'

'It's true,' you smiled, 'I carry your pup. And I couldn't be happier. I really wanted to tell you myself,' you said, 'and not like this. But the Irish loud mouth had to ruin it,' you glared at Finan.

Sihtric teared up and even Finan softened now, when he finally realised you weren't a threat to his health.

'Lady,' Finan said as he finally approached you, 'I owe you an apology.'

'Apology?' Sihtric frowned as he pulled you in his arms, 'what did he do, darling?'

'Your friend here has been harassing me for days,' you hissed at Finan, 'he heard me vomit one morning, you know, morning sickness, but he thought I caught the sickness.'

'I did,' Finan admitted, 'and I was wrong. I am sorry.'

'Is that why you're not eating as much lately?' Sihtric asked you, 'I noticed it but as you seemed fine otherwise, I didn't want to scare anyone else.'

'Yes,' you admitted, 'I hoped you wouldn't pick up on it, my love. But I've passed those days already,' you smiled, 'I am feeling good now. Just, maybe, a little worried about the pup, you know? Of course the sickness worries me too.'

'Lady,' Finan said, 'I promise I will look out for you,' he looked at Sihtric, 'I promise, mate. We have to keep your woman safe.'

'I know,' Sihtric swallowed hard, still trying to grasp that he was becoming a father, 'I… I will.'

'We will,' Finan said, 'aye? We will keep her safe.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #finan #sihtric kjartanson

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h0nkch0c0late · 1 year

Note

Omggggg Sam is the cutest thing ever!!! Could I request a cute little imagine of reader basically pampering Sam. Like doing his hair, some face masks and any night time routine 🤗🤗

Girl I have never done any of that stuff in my life so I'm gonna alter it a bit if that's okay :]

Pampered

Sam Riordan x Reader

SUMMARY: Sometimes your boyfriend just needs a little pampering. Too bad you don't know how the fuck to do it.

WARNINGS: none except for swearing, and mentions of vomit...don't ask.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Why don't we ever do shit like the cute couples in the movies?" Sam asks, the two of you cuddled up on your bed inside of your dorm, laptop open to some random rom com.

"Like pampering? Skin care routine shit? Hair shit?" You question, one hand playing with Sam's hair as the other lay lazily against his lap.

His head was laying on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your torso as he looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes, "Yeah. Why don't we?"

You quirk and eyebrow at him as you chuckle, "1. Because we aren't like the cute couples in the movies, and 2. I don't know how the fuck to pamper myself, let alone anyone else, and I barely have a skin care routine. I slap a bit of Nivea face cream on, and that's about it."

He shrugs, "true. I also don't trust you with any sort of product near my face. You might accidentally kill me with it."

"Not to mention we are the total opposite of a cute couple." You add with a smirk.

Sam scoffed, "oh, yeah. We're absolutely sickening."

"And not like the good kind of sickening either." You snicker.

He nods against your shoulder, "Yeah. It's more like the most vile, vomit-all-over-your-shoes inducing, weird kind of sickening." He explains in a feigned serious tone.

You begin to laugh at the stupidity of your conversation, Sam joining in and suddenly you both landed in a laughing fit.

Sam had landed on the floor, holding his stomach as he laughed, and somehow you had ended up beside him in the same position, both of you unable to breath from how much you had been laughing.

After a while, the two of you managed to calm down, laying on the floor beside each other in comfortable silence, the laptop still playing the rom com in the background.

As the two stared at the ceiling, pretending to make shapes with the bland pattern.

"...the least I could do is slather some slimy ass face cream on you." You say after a while.

"That sounds fucking amazing." He replied, the two of you turning your heads to look at each other, large grins plastered on both of your faces.

You chuckled as you flung yourself back onto your feet, helping Sam up and grabbing your face cream.

It wasn't the pampering that Sam had seen in the movies, but it was the second best thing.

No-scratch that- it was the first best thing, because his girlfriend was willing to do such a small action for him, but to him it meant so much.

After all, they weren't the world's most...conventional couple.

----------------------------------------------------------

I know it's not exactly what you asked for, Anon, but I felt that this way was more fitting for his character :))) and also bc I didn't feel like bullshitting my way through the fic LMAO.

#x reader #imagine #sam riordan #sam riordan x reader #gen v fanfiction #gen v #genV x reader

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bitchinbarzal · 1 year

Text

I’ve been mad at the world | M Estapa

“Ever since you passed away I’ve been mad at the world”

warnings: mentions of death, being drugged, mentions of sexual assault and vulnerability of women

“Come on!”

“Mark I said no!” You whine from under your blanket “I am tired and I don’t want to go to the stupid party”

Mark throws himself down on your bed next to you and gives you pleading eyes “Please, for me?”

You hum for a moment in contemplation before you nod “Fine! Get out so I can change”

Mark knew you hated these parties but you always agreed because it was Mark, you couldn’t say no to him.

At the party, you’d lost him as soon as you entered with Mark drifting off to see friends and classmates while you found Ethan and Mackie playing beer pong.

“Hey, shortstack!”

You smile at the nickname and cuddle into Mackie’s side “Hey, how you guys doing?”

“We suck” Ethan announced to which Mackie scoffed and you announced “Let the boss show you how it’s done!”

Mark watched with a clenched chest as you played the game, hugged into Mackie’s chest. His own teammate.

After you’d won the game you went out in search of Mark, asking around if anyone had seen him.

“Have any of you seen Mark?” You asked in the kitchen, where the freshmen had been gathered.

Adam sips his drink and nods out to the garden “Yeah I think he went out back with Tara”

You frown “Who’s Tara?”

“Some chick from his intro to sports science class”

You shrug and thank them before headed out to the yard. You waded through the couples making out, the kids too drunk and vomiting already before you stumbled across Mark in the back of the yard.

The only issue was that he was currently conjoined with Tara by their tongues.

You gasp lowly, catching their attention. Mark stutters “Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I was just-“ you begin stating and scurry back to the house.

“Y/N wait!”

“Mark honestly, I didn’t-“

“Would you please just hold on a minute!” He shouts, grabbing your wrist.

You turn to him with tears in your eyes “Please just leave me alone!”

“Why are You crying? What’s going-“

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” You scream “Why would you invite me here?”

“Because I wanted to spend time with my best friend!” He shouts back.

“Oh yeah, so you can ditch me to go shove your tongue down Tara’s throat!” You sob.

Mark sighs “You were the one all cuddled up with Mackie!”

“Mackie? Our friend? Are you-“

“God y/n I’m at a party I want to enjoy myself I don’t want you constantly nagging me!”

That stopped you, furrowing your brows “Nagging you? I didn’t even want to come tonight!”

He waves his hands around “well go home then! I don’t want you here anyway!”

You nod slowly “Got it, have a nice night Mark”

He groans as you walk away, wiping your tears with your sleeve as you walk into the house and he mumbles “Fuck me!”

In the house, you barged into the kitchen catching the freshies attention who all questioned eachother on why you would be so upset looking.

You found your way down the hall and upstairs to find a bathroom, as you stood in the bathroom washing your tear stained face the door flew open.

You shouted “Occupied!”

“Oh shit I’m sorry!” The guy shouted “I just needed a piss”

You mumble “It’s ok I’ll go”

As you pass him he grabs the side of your face and makes you look towards him “Why are you crying? Why would such a pretty girl be crying at a party?”

You chuckle dryly “How much time have you got?”

His name was Logan and he seemed nice. He was studying science at Michigan, but he was from Florida and he told you he’d seen you around at hockey games.

Logan occupied your time for the night, sitting on the stairs and talking. You were slightly more than buzzed now, not having noticed the drinks Logan kept handing you and you weren’t usually one for drinking. With the boys being strict on the team mark usually cut you off when he did. But Mark wasn’t here.

“Hey how about we get out of here?” Logan suggested and you nod “Yeah sure”

You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving.

It was cold out and at this time Mark would’ve offered you a sweater but Logan didn’t, instead he yanked your hand as you stumbled behind on the sidewalk.

Fifteen minutes into the walk you didn’t feel too good, the alcohol was getting to you and you were freezing. It was November in Michigan after all.

“I wanna call an Uber I don’t feel good” you announce to which Logan smiles.

“Already? The nights so young! I was thinking we could even go back to my place…” he got closer to you, his hands running down your arms and closing into your bottom before he squeezed it and you yelped

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!”

“C’mon sweetheart it was only a joke!” He defended to which you scoffed “Yeah right, pig!”

You watched his eyes darken at your words and his voice got lower “What did you just call me?”

It was then your body covered in goosebumps and you decided it was time to run. You sprinted along the sidewalk as well as your legs could carry you in your impaired state.

You pulled out your phone and clicked the most recent number which just so happened to be Mark

It rang and back at the party Mark saw your caller ID and scoffed before he hung up. You cried out when it went to his voicemail

“Mark please just pick up this guys chasing me and I’m scared and I need you so-“ you tripped, over a rock on the side walk sending you flying onto the concrete and smashing your head, immediately knocked unconscious.

When Logan finally caught up he found you in the state of what he assumed was dead, you looked dead by looks of the now red pavement and your pale skin under his phones flashlight.

“Oh shit, oh shit” he swore, before running off in the other direction and back to the party as his way of pretending none of this happened.

When you woke up and accused him of what he did he would say he was at the party.

Back at the party it was after midnight and Mark was ready to go home so he went looking for you.

“Anyone seen Y/N?”

Dylan nodded “Yeah I saw her leave with some guy”

Mark’s gut clenched with jealousy “Oh… right well I’m headed back to the dorm see you guys at practice”

Mark’s phone was dead by the time he was in bed and he was too tired to wait up and check it so he left it charging on Ethan’s side of the room and went to bed.

When the morning came Mark was alone in his room. It looked like Ethan had been and gone, along with Mark’s phone.

When he got to practice the place seemed quiet and he was starting to think he was missing something.

Walking into the locker room nobody was changing, all just sitting in there stalls. It felt unnatural.

“What’s up with everyone?” He asks, throwing his bag down on the stall.

Nolan stands from his stall “Mark, bud let’s talk outside”

Mark frowns and looks at all of his teammates before he looks back at Nolan. All of them look sad but sad for him.

“No, Cap tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand what’s going on this is-“

“Mark sit down” Dylan suggests and Mark shakes his head “I’m not sitting down just tell me what’s going on!”

Nolan takes a deep breath and starts “Y/N was found this morning”

Mark shrugs “Listen if she was at that dudes house I don’t even care we fought she was probably just-“

“Mark, she died last night. They found her bled out on someone’s driveway this morning in the area” Nolan interrupts.

Mark begins laughing, confusing everyone “That’s funny, did she put you up to this?”

It’s Ethan’s turn to interrupt “Mark, she’s really gone” and hands him back his phone. The text messages from his family and yours, the news and social media posts.

His hands are shaky and his legs begin to give way, someone pushes him back so he’s sitting down.

“No, no she was right here! She was with me last night she- look she left me a voicemail!” He shouts playing your voicemail out to the room “Mark please just pick up this guys chasing me and I’m scared and I need you so-“

When the line cuts Mark’s breaths can be heard faster and heavier than before “She called me, she called me and I hung up-“ he’s pulled into Ethan’s hold as he lets out a loud sob and scream.

The rest of the team begin filing out to give him privacy.

“It’s ok bud” Ethan soothes and Mark continues screaming.

“It’s ok”

He pulls away and sniffles loudly “She called me for help, I could’ve saved her”

Christmas Day it was snowing, you always loved Michigan snow at Christmas. Growing up you and Mark would stay out in the snow until dark building igloos and snowmen.

Mark sat down on the snow, the red roses in his hand as he spoke

“Ever since you passed away, I’ve been mad at the world. I’ve been so mad that I didn’t answer the phone, that I kissed her and you left, that I let you leave! I didn’t even want to kiss her I wanted to make you jealous because that’s how my stupid brain works. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids… I know you loved me too” he mumbles, wiping his tears

“I got to love you for your entire life and I promise I’m gonna love you for the rest of mine”

He places the rose down on the stone “night my love, I’ll be back tomorrow” and tomorrow was followed by every day after that. By senior year mark was declining contracts to play for teams across the country and in Canada all because

“I can’t leave her, I left her once and look what happened!”

So he didn’t leave Michigan, he was never going to leave your side again.

#mark estapa imagine #mark estapa x reader #umich imagine

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helloalycia · 7 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you break your arm in the plane crash, Jackie seems to be helping you out more than usual and you're left wondering why.

warning/s: mentions of a plane crash, amputation, broken bones.. the usual warnings that come with Yellowjackets lol.

author's note: this has been ready for a while now, as have a few other things whilst i work on some old requests. sorry for the delay with everything - i’ve been very busy, but i hope you like this two part jackie imagine :)

I could hear screaming and shouting, there was smoke everywhere and, despite my confusion, I knew I needed to get out of here before the smoke suffocated me.

Clipping off my seatbelt, I scrambled out of the aisle and briefly looked around, unable to make sense of anything, and then my head was spinning and I couldn't stay here any longer. Fresh air. I needed to breathe and then I could work out what was what.

Following the sound of screaming seemed counterproductive, but that was the way out, so I dragged my body – which felt like it had been thrown around in a blender – out the back of the plane and to... the middle of the forest?

The team. Some of them were running around, doing all sorts I couldn't seem to focus on, whilst others were bent over, catching their breath, appearing dazed and confused like me. I didn't get long to think about how I'd ended up here when, suddenly, someone shoved into me from behind and I fell forward, landing right on my outstretched arm.

A scream escaped my lips at the pain that struck, it breaking through the fog of confusion. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears pricking them instinctively, and tried to breathe through the pain. Pushing myself up with my other hand, I grimaced at the slight movement of my left arm, which had to be broken considering I couldn't do anything with it.

It wasn't until after all the chaos, after everybody had stopped screaming and vomiting and crying, that the realisation that our plane had crashed hit us. And by then, I was too preoccupied with my broken arm. Imagine coming out of a plane crash unscathed, only to get pushed down and left with a broken arm. Very stupid, indeed.

Surprisingly, Misty was the only one who could work under pressure, barely fazed by everything happening and instead tending to everyone's injuries as quickly as she could. Upon realising I'd broken my arm, she immediately made me her best attempt at a splint using some sticks and an old ripped shirt, as well as helping me into a makeshift sling using the same ripped shirt. Given the circumstances, it was as good as a cast, but she didn't know the extent of the damage and I couldn't do anything more.

The first two days were a struggle, mainly because nobody knew what to do nor where to go. That was when the horrible acceptance of losing several members of our team, including one of our coaches, hit everyone hard. We all pitched in to bury them, though I wasn't able to do much with my arm, and held a funeral for them.

After the funeral ended, everybody stuck together in the vicinity of the crash. A few lingered away, probably trying to figure out where the hell we were, but I just wanted a sense of familiarity and stayed to open my suitcase which I'd luckily found. Unfortunately for me, the zipper required two hands, and only one of mine seemed to be available right now.

"Hey."

I sighed, looking up to see Jackie Taylor, the soccer team captain, standing there with her arms hugging herself. I hadn't spoken to her properly since before we set off, she'd mostly just stuck with Shauna, her best friend.

"Hey," I greeted, unsure what she wanted.

She nodded to my terrible sling. "How's your arm?"

"Very painful," I admitted, "but coach literally lost his leg, so I can't complain."

She frowned at my words, but it wasn't exactly an exaggeration. Misty had quite literally chopped Coach Scott's leg off when he got it trapped under the wing of the plane, and it wasn't an easy thing to deal with physically or mentally. A broken arm was nothing compared to an amputation.

"How are you?" I asked. She didn't look hurt, just tired and scared like the rest of us.

She shrugged helplessly, and I didn't need any elaboration. I nodded, acknowledging her, and then she said, "Do you need help with whatever you're doing?"

I looked down, remembering the dumb suitcase I couldn't open. "That would be great actually, yes. Can you hold it whilst I unzip it?"

She nodded and kneeled down, acting as my other hand whilst I unzipped my suitcase. It was a relief to finally open it, seeing everything was as I'd left it before we boarded the plane. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

"If you need help with anything else, just ask," Jackie said, making me look up to see her watching me.

Grateful, I offered her a small smile. "Thanks, Jackie."

She returned the smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. She'd been the first to offer her help in the first place, since everyone was preoccupied by their own trauma, so I appreciated it. Truthfully, the last person I expected to offer help was Jackie, since she usually thought of herself first.

"You should get some medication off Misty," she added. "It'll help with the pain."

I swallowed hard, smile fading. "Right. Thanks."

She nodded and left, glancing at me once more as she did. I didn't really question it as I looked back at my suitcase, distracting myself from the pain.

Later that day, Misty found me instead, immediately pouring out the medication she'd collated from everyone's suitcases in front of me.

"Misty, what are you–?"

"I've got some pills for you," she said nonchalantly.

"Oh, my arm doesn't hurt that much," I lied. "Coach needs–"

"There's enough for Ben, silly," she said with a laugh, making me quirk a brow. "Besides, it's not for your pain, though it will help with that, it's for the inflammation. Without surgery, that's gonna take a while to heal and anything we have can help."

I sighed, nodding. "Alright. Thanks."

"I'll give you them every dose," she said, before holding out two pills. "Here you go."

I silently accepted them, knowing they'd help but feeling bad that I'd be taking them when Coach Scott needed them more.

—

Finding the lake and the cabin was a lifesaver, literally. We needed water and somewhere to sleep that wasn't so out in the open, and I was already struggling to sleep as it was so at least being inside made it a little easier.

Oddly enough, over the next few days since moving into the cabin, I'd noticed Jackie staring at me. If I ever caught her eye, she'd look the other way or flash me a smile before awkwardly doing something else. I wasn't sure what was up, and it only became more questionable when she'd help me out if I needed it.

There was one time when I was trying to pull my shoes on, but struggling to tie the laces with my one good arm.

"Here, I got it," she said, coming out of nowhere to lean down in front of me and take over.

I watched her with curiosity, letting her tie my laces. She must've caught me staring as she looked up, eyes bright as they met mine.

"What?" she asked, standing back up.

I shook my head. "Nothing... thanks."

She nodded, smiling a little before leaving me be. And that wasn't it. Other times I'd be trying to carry something and she'd take it from me without a word, or I'd be pulling on a shirt and she'd quite literally help me into it. It was odd, because she'd never paid me any mind before, and wasn't very helpful to others. The other girls aided me when they occasionally saw me struggling, but not as much as Jackie.

Another time, I was struggling to sleep in my makeshift bed on the floor of the cabin. Everybody had fallen asleep hours ago, but my movement was restricted because of my arm and the shuffling I was doing was only bothering me more.

"You move a lot," a voice said in the firelight, startling me.

I looked over the room, past my sleeping team members, and saw it was Jackie laying on her side next to Shauna but facing me.

"Sorry," I mumbled guiltily. "Did I wake you?"

She shrugged, not answering my question, before saying, "Try elevating your arm."

"What?"

"That's why you can't sleep, right?" she asked.

I blinked, surprised she'd even noticed. "Yeah."

She sat up slowly, stretching, before crossing the room to grab what looked like a jacket. My eyes followed her as she moved, then she rolled it up before kneeling down beside me and placing it underneath my bad arm. I winced as she did so carefully, glancing at me apologetically, but then I relaxed my arm on top of the jacket and breathed out slowly.

"Is that better?" she asked quietly. "Won't be touching the ground now."

I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Jackie."

"No problem," she said, before returning to her bed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I replied, very tired and very confused.

That was when I knew I needed to ask her why she was being so considerate, so out of character, at least to me anyway. The next morning, after I'd done the one thing I could do with my arm which was collecting water from the lake when we needed it, I was bringing it to Akilah who was boiling it over the fire. Unfortunately, I tripped over a stone on the way, almost dropping the bucket. Jackie came out of nowhere, taking it from my hand and leaving it with Akilah before returning to me.

"You okay?" she asked with a raised brow, hand wavering over my arm.

I tilted my head curiously. "I– yeah. I just..."

She smiled with confusion, shaking her head. "What is it?"

I stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Why do you keep helping me? Checking on me?"

She scoffed playfully, looking away before saying, "I'm still your captain. Gotta make sure the team's okay, right?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but I didn't have anything else to believe, so I gave in with a nod. "Yeah..."

"Take it easy," she said, eyes flickering to my arm before she left me.

—

Since we'd been stranded here, I'd only rinsed off in the lake once. That was a week ago when we found it, but I knew I needed to bathe properly and, after taking my shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, I headed for the lake. Washing my body was a struggle because of my arm, which had swollen so much to the point that even accidentally grazing my body with it sent a shot of pain in me.

I managed to wash my body the best I could, getting my tee-shirt sling wet but unable to do much else, then struggled to wash my hair. It was stupid, the fact that I couldn't even open a bottle of shampoo with one hand and squeeze it out. So much that I got overwhelmed with how useless I'd been feeling lately and threw it behind me onto the shore. Sulking, I stayed sitting in the water, submerged up to my legs in my bra and underwear.

I missed home. I missed my mum and my dad and my sister. I missed playing soccer. I even missed school. But most importantly, I missed having two working arms and not constantly being in pain. The longer we stayed out here, the more we established a routine, the less likely it felt we would be rescued. It was all piling on top of me, my uselessness being the cherry on top.

Staring out into the horizon, I frowned. Ten more minutes must have passed with me giving up on washing my hair when I heard footsteps not far behind me. I didn't bother turning around, but then whoever it was called me.

"Hey!"

Sighing deeply, I glanced over my shoulder, so fed up with everything that even my usual surprise at Jackie's presence didn't affect me.

"You not coming out?" she asked, stood at the edge of the water, hands on her hips.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and ignored her, looking forward again. Maybe she'd get the hint and leave me alone. Of course, she didn't.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them.

"Nothing," I said, voice muffled.

I heard her sigh from behind me before her footsteps approached me, her feet splashing in the water.

"I'm bathing," I told her knowingly. "A little privacy would be nice."

She snorted with amusement before I heard her shuffling. Confused, I turned around and saw her pulling off her shorts before throwing them onto the rocky shore with her slippers, leaving her in her underwear and tee shirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled.

She ignored me, instead grabbing the shampoo bottle I'd thrown back. Glancing at it and to me, she quirked a brow sarcastically. "This yours?"

I rolled my eyes and faced forward again, not bothering to acknowledge her presence as she seemed to be approaching me again. Only when she stood in front of me, blocking my view, and kneeled down to look at me was I forced to meet her gaze.

"D'you need help?" she asked softly, considerately.

Embarrassed, I looked down to my knees. Was it that obvious that I was struggling? Why was she the only one to check on me? The only one to notice? Why did she even care?

"Will you let me help you?" she asked when I didn't speak, and I finally looked up.

"Why?" I asked helplessly. "What's the point?"

She sat down cross-legged, unbothered by the water that was lapping against the bottom of her shirt. "For one, the smell in the cabin would go down significantly."

Realising she was joking, humour sparkling in her earth-coloured eyes, I scoffed and looked the other way. She began to laugh before patting my knee.

"Come on," she pleaded, laughter fading into a hopeful smile. "Please."

I didn't want anybody's help, especially not hers. But I needed it, and if she was being so kind as to come out here just to make sure I was okay, maybe it wasn't all so bad.

With a reluctant nod, I let her wash my hair for me, glad I wouldn't have to cause an ache in my other arm trying to do it. It was quiet as she did it, other than when she instructed me to dip my head in the water to wash out the shampoo and conditioner. Her fingers were delicate when she worked, massaging my head and putting me at ease instantly. I was still surprised at her aid, considering she'd always been preoccupied by herself or Shauna.

After I was done, she moved back in front of me, about to speak, but then her eyes caught sight of my swollen arm in my cast and widened.

"Woah, that looks painful," she noticed.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Are you taking the medicine Misty is giving you?" she asked with concern.

I tried not to hesitate as I nodded, lying. Truthfully, I hadn't been taking the medicine since a few days ago, as I knew Coach Scott's leg was at risk of infection if he didn't have enough. Besides, I'd taken some and the swelling had been going down. This was a bad day is all. Kind of.

"Okay, well...," she started, eyes lingering on my arm with an unreadable expression, before she stood up and held out her hand. "You're done. Come on."

I accepted her hand and she led me back to the shore, kindly helping me back into my clothes. After pulling her shorts and shoes on, I instantly hugged her with my good arm, certainly surprising her.

"Thanks, Jackie," I said sincerely, pulling back and seeing her raised eyebrows. "You don't know how good you're being."

She smiled, preoccupied. "Don't. I'm just helping."

I begged to differ, but she wasn't in the mood to hear it and I wasn't going to fight her on it. Instead, I just offered her a small smile before we both headed back to the cabin together.

Later that day, I was sat in the woods for some alone time, perched on a log and reading my book, when suddenly something was thrown right at me, startling me.

"What the hell?!" Jackie shouted, and I looked up to see she'd found me and was furious.

Confused, I looked to see what she'd thrown at me, only to realise it was the medication I hadn't been taking. Oh, no.

"You aren't taking it!" she shouted with exasperation.

I looked up to her, still baffled. "How did you even–”

"I'm not stupid," she snapped, before taking a deep breath to contain herself.

"It doesn't matter," I said calmly. "Coach needs them more. He's literally lost his leg and–"

"Why do you keep belittling your injury?!" she asked in a broken voice. "Nobody needs a hero, Y/N, just take the damn meds!"

The patronising tone she was using was it for me, and I suddenly stood up, unable to let her make me feel bad anymore.

"Why the hell do you even care, Jackie?" I retorted.

Taken aback, she raised her eyebrows before crossing her arms and avoiding my eyes. "I'm the cap–"

"Nobody gives a shit about that anymore!" I cut her off, before glaring at her. "You never paid me any mind before, so what gives now, huh? Did Jackie fucking Taylor suddenly grow a heart?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Seriously, why the hell do you care all of a sudden?" I continued. "Why do you–?"

"Because it's my damn fault!" she said, and my anger was momentarily replaced by further confusion. She continued to ramble, "I didn't mean to, but the plane was on fire and Shauna was going to get hurt and I just rushed out of there without thinking and I didn't mean to push you and then you broke your arm and I feel guilty, okay?!"

Furrowing my brows, I studied her as she took a deep breath. Though she was stressed by her admission of guilt, I was oddly calm.

"That was just an accident," I said, unsure why it mattered to her so much. "If that's why you've been helping me, why you've been keeping an eye on me... you can stop. I'm not dying."

"Yeah, now," she said knowingly, guilt-laden eyes meeting mine, "but when a fucking bear comes out of nowhere and tries to eat you, what are you gonna do with one arm?"

It took me a second to realise she was dead serious, and I tried very hard not to smile.

"If a bear tried to eat me and I had my arm, I'd still get eaten," I said matter-of-factly. "You think I can take on a bear?"

She groaned with discontent. "You don't get it!"

I covered my mouth, struggling not to smile in front of her and piss her off more. She only fixed me with a classic Jackie glare.

"Just take the fucking meds," she said threateningly, in a way that was reminiscent of a cute dog barking, before storming off.

Admittedly, I had to pause and think about what the hell just happened, still a little lost. All this time, she'd been helping me out of guilt? She blamed herself for my broken arm? It was an accident and she couldn't have known what would happen. Tensions were high, it was chaos! I couldn't blame her even if I tried. It was almost laughable how she'd reacted, though at least it explained her sudden interest in my welfare.

When I returned to the cabin after her outburst, she glanced at me once but didn't bother speaking to me. And when I thought it would be a temporary thing, she began to ignore me over the next few days, actively avoiding me. If it weren't to share the cabin to sleep, she'd either completely leave the space I was in or go as far away from me as she possibly could. Could've been guilt, anger or embarrassment, I wasn't sure, but I knew it was extremely childish.

I was filling up a bottle of water from our basin when she rounded the corner and saw me, clearly wanting to do the same judging from her own bottle in hand. One glance my way and she was ready to leave, but I decided to make the first move after a week of not speaking.

"I'm not gonna bite," I pointed out.

She clenched her jaw with indifference. "I know."

A smile ghosted my lips as I focused on filling my bottle, and she surprisingly approached the basin and did the same. It was silent, the sound of our movement filling the air, but she was still tense beside me. It felt all wrong, especially after how supportive she'd been since we got here.

"I'm taking my medicine by the way," I said casually, but I wanted her to know that she hadn't wasted her breath. I'd listened.

"That's good," she spoke after a moment, trying not to sound too bothered.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to, but then this angry soccer player who was crushing under the immense guilt from foreshadowing my improbable yet supposedly imminent death by bear made me feel bad," I continued calmly.

She paused her action, glancing at me with a look of disbelief, and I couldn't hold in my laughter any longer. Her expression was priceless.

"Asshole," she muttered, but she was clearly trying not to smile.

I capped my bottle before saying, "This is awkward. Stop avoiding me, please. I don't hate you or anything. And you don't need to keep checking on me out of guilt. We can just... go back to normal, whatever that was."

She gave me a disapproving glance. "It wasn't just out of guilt."

I raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Believe it or not, Y/N, I do care about you," she said, surprising me. And then she added quickly, "I care about everyone here."

Heart warming at her words, I began to feel bad for what I'd said to her when we argued. "Thanks," I said quietly. "And I'm sorry for what I said, about you suddenly growing a heart. Wasn't nice at all. Or true."

She shrugged awkwardly, looking down. "It's okay. I've been a bit selfish lately. I know the girls say it. Even Shauna thinks it.”

I looked over at her, noticing the conflicted expression she wore. Underneath her confident, cool girl demeanour was just a normal teenager like everyone else, and right now, she looked more and more like that.

"Not always," I reminded her, hoping she knew that I was still grateful for what she'd done for me since the crash, guilt or no guilt.

She exhaled softly, an appreciative smile on her lips, and I was beginning to question if breaking my arm was worth giving me a reason to get to know Jackie Taylor in a different way.

—

When there wasn't the threat of survival creeping up on us, or the fear of being stranded away from our lives back home forever, there was complete and utter boredom. There was only so many times you could play the same card games or read the same books without wanting to smack your head against a wall.

I realised soon enough that I missed playing soccer and one day when I was having a wander near the cabin, I began to subconsciously kick around an acorn. That was where acorn soccer began. Now, whenever I was fed up doing the same thing all the time, I'd go into a little clearing near the cabin and start kicking around an acorn to have a sense of normalcy.

This time, as I was dribbling the acorn around some sticks, I heard someone approaching and glanced up to see it was Jackie.

"What are you doing?" she asked with both amusement and curiosity.

"Playing soccer," I said like it was obvious, before kicking the acorn in the air towards her. Instinctively, she caught it with her foot, stabilising it and letting it hit the ground gently. I cracked a smile, saying, "Someone's not lost their touch."

She rolled her eyes, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "So this is where you disappear to?"

I quirked a brow. "Why? You keeping tabs?"

"You wish you were that interesting," she retorted, kicking around the acorn.

"Interesting enough for you to track down, clearly," I teased.

She glanced at me with a glint of humour in her eyes. "Maybe I just needed to make sure the bear didn't get you."

I grinned. "Aw, you do care! Nice to know you have my back."

At this, she finally let out a laugh, teeth showing and eyes sparkling and in such a way that I couldn't help but admire how pretty she looked right now.

"Okay, where's the goal?" she asked after a moment, pausing from kicking around the acorn.

"What?"

She gave me a look. "I'm bored too, now c'mon."

I chuckled and began to explain to her the unimpressive yet fulfilling setup I had, which consisted of me kicking the acorn between two trees as a 'net'. Once she was caught up, we found a bigger acorn together and began to play.

It was almost like we were back at soccer practice, playing and having fun and not having to worry about any impending doom. I'd forgotten how good it could feel to just be, and I'd especially forgotten how good Jackie was at soccer, making for the perfect opponent.

She scored for the third time and raised her hands in the air as she cheered for herself. "Hell yeah!"

"You see, this is why we got to nationals," I reminded her, making her laugh.

"God, I forgot how fun soccer was," she said with a sigh. "Clever idea with the acorn."

I shrugged. "Boredom struck. Creativity thrived."

She snickered, hands on her hips, before nodding at my arm. "Should you even be playing with your arm like that?"

I quirked a brow. "What you gonna do? Rat me out to Misty?"

She snorted with amusement. "She's too busy with Coach Scott to care."

I tried not to laugh, knowing Misty had been enjoying herself a little too much with looking after Coach Scott and his leg. It was clear she liked him, and though he was aware of how inappropriate it was, he had no choice but to accept her help. Yeah, the last thing on Misty's mind was if I was playing acorn soccer or not.

"Okay, you ready for the next one?" Jackie asked, already kicking the acorn into the centre to start again. "I might just take it easy on you this time. Y'know, because you're at a disadvantage."

I glared at her playfully, ignoring the way her cocky grin made me feel. "Game on, Taylor."

—

Since that point, I'd found myself looking out for Jackie a little more than usual. I guess you could say she'd piqued my interest more than she ever had. Back home, she was my team captain and that was it. We never really hung out outside of practice or soccer parties because our circles never crossed over. Now though, with her looking out for me and hanging out with me more, I was beginning to develop a little crush on her.

I would've been insane not to. She was funny, flirty, smart and she always knew what she wanted. And it was probably silly of me to crush on the one girl I could never get, but it certainly made my current situation a bit more manageable. Nothing like a teenage crush to get your mind off reality.

I liked to think I was subtle with it, the whole checking out Jackie every now and then. It was only when she was a fair distance away and there was no chance she would spot me. But one morning, as I was helping Akilah boil some more water from the lake, I spotted Jackie walking out of the cabin with Shauna. It was nothing different, but for some reason, she just looked extra stunning this morning. I wasn't sure what it was – possibly my own delusion – but I couldn't stop stealing looks at her.

And then she glanced my way, catching my eye, and before I could even react, embarrassed I'd been caught out, a knowing smile appeared on her lips and she winked playfully before paying her attention back to Shauna. I swallowed, flustered, and didn't look at her again for the rest of the day. Stupid crush.

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets #ella purnell

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writersblog20 · 2 years

Text

Pancakes and a Milkshake

Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: When everything gets a little bit too much and you have a slight moment of crisis, Pedro comes to the rescue with pancakes and a milkshake. Who would’ve thought what pancakes and milkshakes could bring you

Warnings: mention of anxiety and stress, edibles and smoking weed, reader gets picked up in her sleep by Pedro, vomiting because of stress, mention of a nightmare, calming medication

Words: 3,6K

A/N: So this is actually happening and I just can’t…. I need Pedro to take me out for pancakes and a milkshake and comfort me because I don’t know how I’ll survive on Monday. Please wish me luck and pray for me that I won’t make a fool out of myself

Pancakes and Milkshakes🥞🍨

To say you were stressed was an understatement. You were in the midst of exams and school made it way more troubled than it had to be. For example, they just told you that you had to have a conversation with an potential client from the branch where you wanted to go in. So you had to ask your boss, the one you unfortunately fell in love with. You had to choose him because that would be the most obvious decision and it would help you with your grade.

But now you were panicking and stressing about it for obvious reasons. For starters, you weren’t only dealing with the stress and anxiety about your oral exams but also the stress and anxiety with seeing your boss again, for the first time in a very long time, knowing that those feelings come rushing back and you really weren’t waiting for that.

Anyway, the point is, you were beyond exhausted and stressed yourself out to no point. Pedro saw it and wanted to help you but you shut yourself off. You were even counting the days. If it was just an oral exam with your teacher you wouldn’t have 90% of the stress that you were experiencing now.

Pedro stayed with you for a while so he could film in the location without renting a house. You and Pedro met on a set where you helped your uncle and you both hit it off right from the bat. You have never felt comfortable so fast with someone you just met. So when days passed and Pedro told you about the terrible place he was renting, you offered him a room in your house. Pedro didn’t want to be a burden so with some back and forth, you finally convinced him that he wouldn’t be a burden and that you would actually enjoy some company.

So that’s how we got to this point. You and Pedro had some amazing days already. You cooked together, watched some sitcoms and movies that he wanted you to see and it was just amazing. You couldn’t explain how you felt so incredibly comfortable around him. Yeah he definitely deserved the title zaddy from the internet.

So today was a lazy day. But as the days grew closer, the higher your anxiety and stress got to you. You weren’t sleeping well, felt physically sick and drained to the bone. Pedro could see it from a mile away. The bags underneath your eyes and the how much you’ve clenched your jaw that it was even visible when you weren’t clenching. Yeah you were a mess. You did tell Pedro the situation but you couldn’t bring yourself to open up more. That wasn’t because of Pedro. No it was because you didn’t want to say it out loud because if you did, then it would be real so you kept it shut because you really did believe that this was the way to keep in control of the situation when the day would come.

Pedro made some dinner but you really had no appetite. It was silent at the table and Pedro kept a close eye on you while eating the pasta he made and drank some of his wine. “You know what we should do?” he asked you with a smirk on his face and a playful undertone. You looked up and chuckled slightly at his mischievous look. “Edibles….. Or smoke a joint. Doesn’t really matter but why don’t we get high tonight?” he asked you and you chuckled a little, sitting back in your chair, looking at Pedro to see if he was serious, which he was. His face said it all with the raised eyebrow and playful smile on his face.

You looked down and thought about it. “Yeah, why not. At this point I’ll do anything to feel a bit relaxed.” You chuckled. Pedro immediately got a big smile on his face and leaned more forward. “Okay, so I got gummy bears, lollypops, even cotton candy and of course normal weed.” You chuckled. “I’ll think I’ll smoke a joint and maybe take a gummy bear” You told him with a smirk and took a sip of your red wine. Pedro smiled “Alright then.”

After dinner, you cleaned the kitchen since Pedro cooked. He came downstairs with the edible and weed. “You know how to roll sweetheart?” Pedro asked you. You shook your head “No just how to put everything in and crush it but not how to roll.” Pedro nodded with a soft smile “Alright, I’ll show you.” you smiled and nodded. You searched for a vinyl to listen to and put it on the record player. Pedro smiled as he heard the tune. You put some blues on for now and sat next to Pedro.

You had a pretty cozy livingroom to say the least. A lot of things were from wood so it gave a cabin vibe but a bit bigger and a little more luxurious because of the kitchen and how big your house was. It wasn’t a very big house, more regular but still bigger than a cabin if you know what I mean. The candles illuminated both of your faces while Pedro showed you how to roll a joint. He gave you one so could try it but obviously it wasn’t so easy the first time and Pedro saw your frustration and chuckled softly, taking it from you. “It’s okay babe, it almost never happens that you get it the first time. It takes practice.” You nodded. You filled the joint and let Pedro roll it so you were still doing something.

You put on the fireplace since it started snowing pretty bad and sat back in your place, your feet up on the table just like Pedro. He gave you a gummy and you clinked it as if it was a wine glass. You both chuckled and ate the edibles before smoking the joint, passing it over to each other. You leaned your head on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. You could already feel some of the tension leave your body and making you feel fuzzy.

You and Pedro started chatting about everything and listening to the music with some laughter in between because of the high. After a while you decided to watch a movie while Pedro lit the other joint. He could see that you were trying to lay down comfortably on the couch but was failing miserably. “Come here, princess. Rest your head on my lap.” He told you softly and scooted closer to you, taking a blanket and a pillow with him. He placed the pillow on his lap as you turned around to lay your head on his lap. When you finally laid down comfortably, he placed the blanket over your body. You held a part of his leg, for some more comfort and Pedro was completely fine with that.

Pedro softly went with his hand over your head and an adoring smile on his face. “This better princess?” You nodded softly, completely relaxed and high at this point. “Yeah, this is very nice. Thank you.” you mumbled a bit and Pedro had that same soft smile on his face. He bended forward a bit so he could place a kiss on your head. Pedro started the movie and now and then passed you the joint. This wasn’t the first time smoking a joint so you knew how much you could take and handle.

Pedro had his arm resting around your body and you felt so safe, relaxed and comfortable with him that you started to feel fuzzy inside and not from the weed this time. Pedro softly rubbed your arm while being glued to the tv. Your eyes started to get heavy and it was a losing battle so you just closed them, falling into a deep slumber.

~time skip~

You woke up from a nightmare and you sat straight up, rubbing your face. You looked around and saw that you were in your room. Pedro must’ve brought you to bed. You were sweating and your breathing was uneven when all the panic and stress started rushing back to you, making you almost sick to your stomach.

You quickly struggled to get out of bed and to the bathroom, clinging to the toilet and threw everything out. This wasn’t new to you. When you were in a serious amount of stress, it would make you physically ill. Once you were done, you flushed the toilet and brushed your teeth before making your way downstairs to get your calming meds.

You went into the kitchen and struggled to search for your meds with shaky hands until you heard Pedro’s voice. “You looking for these sweetheart?” he asked you softly and you quickly looked at him before slowly nodding. He gave them to you with a sad smile. “Where did you get these?” you asked him. “I saw that you placed them in your bag and figured that you forgot to take them out.” You nodded and took them with a glass of water. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” you asked him softly, feeling guilty.

“Don’t worry about that princess. Let me make you a cup of tea. Go sit on the couch sweetheart.” He told you, making you nod. You made your way to the couch and stared out of your window. The whole city was covered white while more was still falling from the sky. You felt some sort of serenity and calmness floating over you. Snow always had that effect on you.

Before you knew it Pedro sat next to you with the tea. “Thank you P, but you don’t have to stay with me. You need sleep.” You told him, looking at him for a minute and then stared out of the window again. Pedro looked at you in all seriousness. “Y/N, You are more important to me. I’ll stay as long as needed princess. Talk to me.” he told you the last part soft.

You felt fuzzy from what he said to you and you gave him a sad smile but stayed silent. Pedro noticed and nodded before scooping closer to you. “Come here than.” He told you and you were aching for some comfort. Pedro already had his arms open for you as a hint. You climbed over Pedro and sat besides him, your legs over his while the side of your body was tightly against his. His arms wrapped around you. He tucked your head softly underneath his chin and gave a kiss on your head. And that was it. Both staying silent but still he provided all the comfort he could and let’s be real, you really, like really needed this.

You started to calm down a bit. “I’m a bit hungry… but like hungry for fast food…” Pedro suddenly spoke out. You looked up at him confused. “I think we should get some pancakes…. Maybe a milkshake with that?” he hinted with a soft smile. You thought about it and smiled at the idea. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” Your voice so soft that you weren’t sure if he heard you or not. “Okay, let’s get some pancakes, sweetheart. I know I great place that’s open 24/7.” Just with the line “Let’s get some pancakes.” Was an opening to your heart.

You got off Pedro’s lap and stood up. You were wearing an oversized hoodie and joggings, and Pedro was wearing some pajamas with a funny design. You looked down at the two of you. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to change.” You nodded and to be honest, you couldn’t give a fuck about your clothes right now. Pedro smiled and threw his arm around your shoulders, leading you outside and towards his car. You stepped in and now you saw what time it actually was. 2 AM. Pedro noticed and saw how your face fell a bit. “Hey, like I said, you are more important. Besides, I can’t pass up on pancakes with you, are you kidding me?” he made the situation lighter and achieved to get a smile on your face. “Let’s get some pancakes than.” You told him back with a soft but confident smile.

“There’s my girl.” He chuckled, making you smile shyly as he drove off. It didn’t take long to arrive. This was a side of the city that you never really went so seeing this restaurant was a positive surprise. It was like a diner straight from the 80’s. pink everywhere, jukeboxes and everything. You smiled at Pedro who held out his hand for you to grab which you happily applied to do so.

You both walked in, still wearing the pajama’s. It was a sight on its own but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You both sat down in the retro seats. You were happy that they had the lights lower so it gave off a homey and nice vibe.

The waitress walked your way and took your orders. Pancakes and a big strawberry milkshake. When she walked away, Pedro leaned backwards and looked at you. “Princess, I need you to talk to me. bobbling this up, is not going to work. Let me help you carry some of the weight. I might not be able to take it away but then I know how I can help and support you.” Pedro sat more forwards as he took your cold hands in his. Pedro started rubbing them, trying to warm them up. You took a deep sigh and decided to just open up. Maybe it’ll work and if not, then you don’t have that much to lose.

You started telling him about it all. Where it started, what is bothering you right now and what’s going on in your own head. Pedro listened intently to your story, keeping eye contact and held your hands, softly drawing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. “We’ll get through this and I’ll be besides you with every step. I know it might not help a lot but I want you to know that I am certain that you will nail this. You are too amazing and you are so much stronger than you think. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you and this… I know this is a big deal right now, but I know that you are going to get through this with a good grade. Otherwise, I’ll come to your school and make a scene.” He told the last part to lift the heaviness off.

You chuckled slightly which left a smile on Pedro’s face. “You know I’ll do it!” he told you, making you laugh, knowing he was serious. You nodded. “I know all of that but it’s just the feelings. Feelings aren’t rational, at least not in this moment.” Pedro nodded. “But this helps.” You told him with a soft smile which he returned. You felt that fuzzy feeling inside again when he smiled at you with those soft kind eyes, his bed hair and his silly pajamas which you actually loved a lot.

You took a deep sigh as your meds started to kick in. You nodded “I got this. I just need to survive the days following up to it.” Pedro smiled. “and I’ll help with that, I promise.” He told you and took your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on them, making you smile.

The food arrived with the milkshake that you and Pedro would share. You giggled at how old fashioned it looked and absolutely loved it. It even had a red cherry on top with some sprinkles on the whipped cream. “This looks amazing.” You told him with a smile and looked him. Pedro had that same mischievous smile on his face as he had before. He opened his palm and you saw two gummy bears. You looked at him with a grin and took one. “Cheers” you said as you clinked the gummy’s together and put it in your mouth, Pedro mirroring you.

You didn’t have to worry about Pedro driving because it would probably kick in when you arrived home. ( Edibles take a while sometimes.) You devoured the pancakes, now realizing how hungry you actually were. Pedro smiled, seeing how content you were. Both giggling while you shared the milkshake. You both joked around a little and you felt the stress lifting off of you. When you were done, Pedro paid while you put your coat on. Pedro came back and had something in his hands which made you curios but he put it behind his back. “It’s a surprise.” He told you with a smile. You knew he wasn’t telling you right now so you let it go. “Thank you P. For everything.” You told him and he smiled. “Everything for my favorite girl in the world.” You felt flustered and saw that Pedro was blushing and had a shy smile upon his lips.

You stepped in the car and instead of driving home, he drove to an empty field. You frowned a bit, not knowing what was going on. You’ve been here a million times before and it was close to your house but you didn’t understand why you were here.

You looked confused at Pedro, who smiled. “I know that the snow relaxes you, so this is the perfect spot to drink our extra Slurpee’s I got and smoke a joint before we go inside.” You smiled brightly. Pedro knew you too well. He gave you a couple cd’s so you could pick out the music while Pedro put his feet up on the dashboard and put the windows just a bit down. It was now a bit past 3AM but you couldn’t explain how much this has helped you. If you were still at home than you were a 100% certain that you would have a panic attack and a really bad one at that.

You both stared at the snow falling down while slurping on the Slurpee’s and sharing the joint while listening to the music. “P…?” Pedro looked at you. “Could you maybe stay with me tonight? In case the nightmares come back?” you asked him softly and he just smiled, kissing the top of your head. “Of course I will princess.” You smiled softly and stared in front of you again.

“You ready to go home?” he asked you as it was 4 AM now. You nodded with a yawn, which made Pedro laugh as he drove the last 3 minutes to your house. He opened the door and you shivered as you walked in the house. “Do you want to sleep here or in your bedroom? I really don’t mind.” You nodded but almost felt guilty. “Can we sleep here?” you asked him, feeling like a burden. “So a sleepover! Of course! I’ll get the pillows and blankets! You search for a good movie okay?” Pedro’s excitement washed away your negative feelings. You loved how childlike he sometimes could be but in a good way.

You put the couch out (you could put it out and make a bed from it). Pedro came downstairs but wasn’t even visible behind all the pillows and blankets. You chuckled and helped him out. You both tried to make the bed but you were both as high as a kite. So try making a bed and not fall into a fit of laughter. Finally, you both got the couch to work as a bed. Pedro swinged his arms up as an achievement which made you chuckle.

You laid down and got the tv remote, Pedro joining you. You both put on a movie that interested you both and when it started, it was time to get comfortable. You turned towards Pedro and he already held his arm up so you could lay down on his chest. You held his pajama tightly in your hand while his arm was wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You watched the movie a bit but felt yourself grow tired again. “Thank you for being my favorite person on this earth.” You told Pedro, who chuckled. “And you too for also being my favorite person princess.” He told you and pressed a kiss on your head, pulling you close and let out a deep sigh from relaxation.

The panic and stress wasn’t going away but with Pedro by your side, you knew it was going to be okay. And maybe now, you didn’t have to worry about the feelings towards your boss anymore because Pedro had your heart in his hands, and you trusted him with everything you got. So in the end, it actually worked out and your negative feelings were reduced and positive feelings got into that place.

You finally fell asleep in Pedro’s arms in a deep, peaceful sleep, feeling as if you were in the safest place on earth. And all of that because of some pancakes and a milkshake. One thing was for sure, the universe has it’s own crazy and funny way of how things would go.

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