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wlwoceaneyes · 11 days ago

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Lipstick Service Part 2 // Cassian

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!bau!reader word count: 1390 k summary: It’s been a week since the mug incident, and Emily’s been teasing you ever since. Now, after a tough case, she calls you into her office. tag list: @cinnamongirlblogsworld A/N: Thanks for all the love on Part one <3 you totally made my week. Here's part two.

Part One

You can’t quite shake the feeling that Emily’s been teasing you ever since the mug incident, the way she’d taken a sip from the cup where your lipstick had left its mark, her eyes flickering with something unreadable just before she smiled. Since then, little moments have added up: a glance held a fraction too long, a subtle lick of her lips when she thought you weren’t watching, the slight tension in her hands whenever she gripped her glass a bit too tightly.

Emily now stands in front of the team, arms crossed, back straight. Her berry-colored blouse is slightly wrinkled, her black blazer buttoned up as if to hide that fact. Her silver hair glows dully under the ceiling lights, slightly disheveled, like she’d slept on the jet. But you know better. You’d been sitting across from her, watching the steady tap of her long fingers on her laptop keyboard keeping you wide awake. And maybe it wasn’t just the typing. Maybe it was the fleeting glances she kept stealing after catching you staring a little bit too long.

“Good work“, she says with a grateful nod to everyone.

You snap out of your thoughts with a shake of your head and focus on Emily’s knowing face. A ghost of a smile plays on her lips, but her eyes, dark and unreadable, hold something else entirely. Perhaps a secret, still tucked away behind her steady gaze, waiting to be uncovered.

“Only because we acted quickly were we able to apprehend the suspect and save other women from any harm.” Emily’s fingers tap once against her arm, her posture stiffening slightly before she shifts her gaze. She looks tired. You all do.

The sleepless days, the endless hours spent chasing this guy, it’s written all over her. And on you, too. Your body feels like it might fold in on itself, your eyelids heavy, your brain two steps behind. Emily hides it well, not like Luke, who lets out a deep yawn. Not like Tara, who’s slumped against her desk or Rossi, on his eighth cup of coffee, which honestly has you a little concerned. Too much caffeine can’t be good. JJ had gone home an hour ago, Will and the kids shouldn’t have to wait any longer. Emily’s orders.

“I know it’s not ideal,” she adds, and you groan. “But Bailey wants the reports on his desk by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tara mutters, rubbing her face. “How many hours have we been awake again?”

Luke makes a face and sinks into his chair with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Emily says, her eyes flicking to yours. You don’t even have the strength to push back, sleepiness having a hold on you. “Orders from above. The sooner we finish, the sooner we go home. Let’s get to it.”

Tara straightens her shirt, moves quickly to her desk, unlocking her screen. You watch as Rossi drags himself up the stairs to his office, quietly closing the door behind him. Luke’s already typing, filling his report with details. And you? You’re still standing in the middle of the bullpen like your feet forgot how to move.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Concern flashes over Emily’s face, and for a brief second, her fingers brush your forearm. Warmth blooms beneath your skin, spreads to your cheeks.

“Yeah. Just tired,” you answer, fighting the blush, your gaze dropping to the floor just in case she sees it.

“Can I do anything for you?” she asks, her fingers trailing up from your arm to your shoulder, pressing gently. “Coffee? Something to eat?”

She’s always so careful with you. Always noticing, always offering, like she sees through you in ways no one else ever bothers to. You wish you knew what it meant, or if it meant anything at all.

“Sleep, maybe?” you blurt, before you lose the nerve. A smile tugs at the corner of Emily’s mouth as she steps a little closer. At once, you’re surrounded by her, her perfume rich and intimate: white gardenia and sandalwood. A scent your subconscious has already memorized.

“Who knows what you’d miss… if you went to sleep now,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet, laced with unspoken promises. When her eyes flick to your lips, your knees go weak.

You don’t trust your voice, so you clear your throat and glance around. “The upcoming paperwork, maybe?” you shoot back, raising a brow.

Emily lets out a soft laugh, amused, and turns to go. “Something like that,” she says, casting a look over her shoulder. “Get to work.”

You stumble back to your desk, limbs heavy, and drop into the chair. You stretch before unlocking your screen, eyes burning but blood rushing hot beneath your skin. Emily’s presence has rooted itself deep within you and refuses to let go. You’re exhausted, every part of you aching for sleep, but you don’t stop. Not yet. Not when she’s still in the room. So you focus, willing your hands to move, your brain to keep up, maybe it’s foolish, but some part of you still wants to impress her. Maybe always has.

Across the room, her heels strike the floor in that familiar, steady rhythm, until they don’t. Halfway to the exit, she stops. Her phone buzzes and she sighs quietly, but you catch it. “Bailey wants a short debrief. Of course, right now.” She runs a hand through her long hair, jaw tightening for just a second, irritation visible on her face.

Tara glances over the rim of her monitor, an apologetic expression on her face. “You just need some fresh makeup, Prentiss. You look tired.”

“Thanks, Tara,” Emily replies dryly, shrugging. “But my bag’s already in the car. This’ll have to do.”

Luke laughs quietly at the exchange and earns a pointed glare from your boss. There’s a beat of silence, then Emily turns, eyes locking on you.

“You always have some makeup in your drawer, don’t you, Y/N?” The question sends a shiver down your spine, her tone low and demanding. She doesn’t wait for an answer, seconds later, she’s already heading toward her office, glancing back when you don’t immediately follow. “You coming?”

Puzzled, you grab your toiletry bag and follow her up the stairs. You don’t miss the knowing glances exchanged between Tara and Luke, or the way they try and fail to hide their smirks. Your heart pounds loudly in your ears, your hands feel clammy, but you take a deep breath and slip through the door.

Once the door clicks shut behind you, Emily leans back against her desk, arms crossed, studying you. “Your lipstick,” she begins, her tongue briefly darting over her lips, “matches my blouse perfectly. Don’t you think?”

Heat floods your face, and you know she sees it. You know she does, but doesn’t comment on it. “Want me to lend it to you? It’s in my bag…” You reach down, rummaging with unsteady hands, but before you can find it, her hand closes gently around your wrist.

“I never said I wanted the one from your bag,” she murmurs, and you freeze.

Confused, you look at her and see a smile, playful and dangerous, dancing on her lips. She steps closer, raises her hand. Her fingers hover over your jaw, trace a slow path downward, then come to rest at your chin, holding it gently but firmly. “May I?” Her voice is soft, her head tilted slightly, eyes drinking you in, blown pupils, parted lips, and the ache of anticipation written all over your face. All you can do is nod, you’re not even breathing.

Emily Prentiss leans in, her eyes never leaving yours and when her lips finally meet yours, it’s slow, purposeful. Not demanding, just certain. And when she finally pulls away, your shade lingers on her lips. Cassian.

“Now I’m ready for Bailey,” she whispers, stepping back to smooth her hair.

You’re still standing there, stunned. The ghost of her touch still crackling on your skin. She throws you a satisfied smile, opens the door, and disappears down the hallway, heels clicking in sharp rhythm. She’s gone before you can speak and somehow, Bailey feels more like an afterthought than the reason she called you in.

Something passed between you, undeniable and deliberate. And now you are sure, this was never just a one-sided crush.

Part 3

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #young agent #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss imagine #unit chief prentiss #emily prentiss fic #chief #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x female reader

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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 4 months ago

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Look at Me (part 2 )

Player 001 x reader 📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Look at Me part 1

Tw: dark content, rape is implied, somnophilia, drugging

In Ho awake in the night, his cock raged. You tapped him, asking for a glass of water. He got up and walked to the bathroom, filling the glass with water. An idea popped into his mind. Sleeping pills he thought. He broke a few off in the glass of water. Bringing it to you and watching you drink it.

He laid down and pretended to sleep, waiting until you were asleep again. Even after all he did to you yesterday, even though he apologized, he couldn’t help himself. You were just so dumb, taking his apology the way you did. He needed to feel you again. He was a disgusting man and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He turned his head to look at you. You were sound asleep, probably the best sleep you’ve gotten since you’ve been there. But you were laid next to him, there was no saving you from what he was going to do to you.

He snuck his hand down to your clit, rubbing small circles as he softly stroked his cock. He watched you as you slept, hoping you didn’t wake up at all until he was inside of you. You whimpered in your sleep, the sound making him throb.

He stuck a finger in your core, another whimper, measuring how wet you were. Enough, he thought, she’s wet enough.

He pushed himself on top of you, staring down at your sleeping face. He wasted no time in pushing himself into you. Groaning at the feeling, you were still so tight, even after all he did earlier.

He began to thrust into you, his moans loud and shameless, as he fucked your sleeping body. He placed a hand on your throat, the lack of air waking you up.

“I-In Ho” you were dazed, voice sleepy, eyes heavy. “What’re you doing?” You say before realizing your brain was in gear for pleasure. Your sleepy moans as he fucked you were sending him into overdrive.

“I just wanted your pussy, (y/n). Isn’t that obvious? I fucking needed it” he growls in your ear, the words not sinking in. You tried to close your legs. “Open your fucking legs.” He said harshly.

He moved faster, pulling your legs onto his shoulders. He slammed into you, earning screams that your small body shouldn’t be able to produce.

“Oh my god, (y/n)” he said watching how your face was screwed up in pleasure. He groaned through gritted teeth. Anxious to reach his climax but wanting it to last forever. He was going to make you feel him all inside you. “Fuckkkk you feel so fucking good. Fuck!” He crawled out slamming his cock inside of you over and over.

He felt your pussy contract around him. Making his want to fuck you even faster now that you were tighter. He grunted with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin running through the room. Your screaming echoed off the walls, surely a guard walking by could hear. He couldn’t remember if the VIPs were there yet, he didn’t care if they heard you, they could watch for all he cared.

Maybe he’d fuck you in front of the VIPs or record himself fucking you from behind, placing you on all 4’s and pulling your hair as your eyes rolled back. Oh his mind was running rampant as he imagined everything he would do to you in the future.

“In Ho, I’m gonna cum” your little whiney voice said.

“Fucking hold it. I’m not fucking done.” He told you. He couldn’t deny, he loved that little whiney voice. God how it made his eyes roll. He shook his head, drops of sweat flying from his hairline. He felt disgusting and vile. Dirty, as he helped himself to your tight cunt. Oh how disappointed your father would be to know his daughter’s pussy was destroyed by a stranger.

His thoughts, your screaming, your tight pussy continuing to contract. It was all too much for him to bear. He exploded inside of you, his cum planting itself as far as it could possibly go. You followed suit, shaking as you did, he continued fucking you, ruining your pussy with the mixed fluids as you both rode out your orgasms. He pulled out from you. Laying down beside you.

“Good girl” he said, sighing heavily. “Letting daddy use you like that”

“I love you In Ho” you say tiredly. He knew you didn’t mean it, no one would love him after he did to them what he did to you, you were on sleeping medicine, and coming down off an orgasm. He knew you didn’t love him.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean” he replies.

“I mean it.” You say before falling asleep. He laid in silence. Was there truly a possibility for love, a relationship, something more than using you? He thought about it, suddenly a wave of regret washing over him. You didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve him to treat you like that. You were too sweet, kind, and gentle.

“I love you too, (y/n)” he said to quietness of his room. He turned to your spent body, pulling you into him, wrapping himself protectively around you, as if someone was going to steal you away. “I love you” he laid a gentle kiss on your cheek.

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httpsdana · 23 days ago

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Hiii lovely!! Hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if you could write this for me? I adore when you write soft and comforting things, it honestly feels like this request is so your vibe.

The reader is a med student going through a really intense phase. She lands a hospital internship, but it’s on the night shift — which means long nights and a whole lot of exhaustion. After one of those shifts, she goes straight to Kenan’s place. Hours later, she wakes up to soft morning light pouring through the window and the most comforting smell coming from the kitchen. Still half-asleep, she gets up slowly… and that’s when she sees it: Kenan, back turned to her, those broad shoulders on full display, shirt casually thrown over a chair, making lunch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Just… a quiet, beautiful moment.

Thank you so much in advance! I think you’re amazing. 💓💓💓

After the Shift~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: when one of my fav mutuals requests smth yk i have to write it asap. I hope you enjoy this my love <3

She barely remembered the ride to Kenan’s place. Just that her hands were shaking when she took off her hospital badge, and her feet ached in a way that went straight to the center of her chest. Night shifts bled into mornings slowly, and her brain hadn’t shut off once in twelve hours. Maybe even more.

She’d texted him something short. Coming over. That’s all she had the energy for.

He opened the door within seconds of her knocking, like he’d been waiting. His arms were around her before she could speak. She barely got her shoes off before he was guiding her to the bed, murmuring something she didn’t catch, brushing her hair back from her face.

Then he kissed her temple and helped her out of her scrubs. Another kiss on the top of her shoulder when she sank into the bed, pulling his hoodie over her body. One more at the corner of her mouth before she closed her eyes.

Then sleep came in seconds.

She woke up slowly. Heavy-limbed and warm, wrapped in the kind of warmth she hadn’t felt in weeks. No beeping monitors. No stretchers. Just the faint sound of birds outside and…something else.

Her nose twitched immediately.

What was that? Garlic? Onion? Olive oil? Something cozy and like home. It didn’t belong to a hospital cafeteria or her rushed takeout meals. It smelled like love.

She pulled herself with a quiet groan, rubbing her eyes, trying to blink the sleep away. Her scrubs were folded neatly over the desk chair. Her phone was plugged in beside the bed. And she was still wearing his hoodie that was soft against her bare skin.

She moved down the hallway barefoot, guided by the sound of the stove and the low hum of something playing from a speaker. Jazz? Or something with piano. She didn’t know he listened to this kind of music in the mornings.

And then she saw him.

Kenan stood there in the kitchen, shirtless, loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His back was to her, broad and relaxed like usual, the curve of his spine soft in the light. His hair was messy in a way that made her want to run her fingers through it just to put it back in place.

A dish towel hung on his shoulder. He had a wooden spoon in one hand, and the other rested on the counter, absently scrolling something on his phone.

The pan sizzled as he stirred. There were fresh herbs on the cutting board. Bread in the toaster. A pot of coffee brewing on the counter, the rich scent reaching her like it had missed her too.

She didn’t say anything. Just leaned against the doorframe, arms folded loosely, just watching him move. He looked so at home here, so quietly competent, like cooking was just a way of how he loved.

It wasn’t until he reached for a plate that she spoke.

“You always look this good when you’re cooking, or did I just catch you on a lucky morning?”

He turned, surprised but then he smiled when he saw her. An easy, a little crooked, sleepy around the edges, kind of smile.

“You’re awake,” he said, like it was an achievement.

“Barely.” Her voice was hoarse from sleep. “How long was I out?”

He shrugged. “A while. You needed it.”

She walked toward him slowly. He didn’t move until she was standing right behind him. She slid her arms around his waist, pressed her face between his shoulder blades, and just…stood there.

He reached for her hands and held them where they rested against his stomach.

“I missed you this week,” he said quietly.

“I missed everything this week,” she murmured. “You especially.”

He turned, gently untangling her arms so he could face her. His hands cupped her cheeks like she was still something delicate he didn’t want to break.

His thumbs brushed over the dark circles under her eyes. And then he kissed her slowly. He wasn’t in a rush. He wanted her to feel it in every nerve ending. It wasn’t urgent, just deep. Familiar. Real. Her fingers curled around his wrist, and she kissed him back like she’d forgotten how much she needed this, him, to feel human again.

“You haven’t been eating right,” he said. “Your fridge was empty last time I checked.”

“I’ve been-”

“Busy. I know.” He didn’t say it like a complaint. Just a fact.

Then another kiss, this time at the corner of her mouth, lingering just long enough to make her smile. He kissed the spot beneath her eye, then her temple again, as if he could press away all the exhaustion she’d built up in silence.

He turned back to the stove again, hands moving like it was second nature.

“Go sit down. I’m almost done.”

She did. And for once, someone else was in control. And he wasn’t rushing. He was taking his time, cutting tomatoes with precision, plating eggs and toast like it mattered. Like she mattered.

He brought the plate to the table and set it in front of her with a soft “Here.”

And she looked at him, her eyes soft with affection. And he leaned down and kissed her again, upside down this time, like something out of a lazy morning dream. Because he had missed her. Oh so much.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For this. For you.”

He nudged her nose with his, then kissed it, then her mouth again, just because he could. Because she was here. Because he’d been waiting for this moment all week.

And as she picked up the fork and started to eat, he pulled a chair beside her, one hand resting lightly around her shoulder, thumb brushing over the fabric of his hoodie.

And she felt it again, that ease in her chest. The quiet knowing. That this wasn’t just comfort.

It was love.

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actuallybean · 1 month ago

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Bunker Fever | Part One

Busted ribs, a stubborn Winchester, and nowhere to go—being stuck in the bunker with Sam is starting to mess with your head in more ways than one. *Contains sexual material: Minors DNI Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Part two Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You didn’t think it would be this bad.

Sure, you’d been stuck in the bunker before. You’d even spent days without a case, nothing but dusty lore books and old vinyl records echoing through the halls. But this time was different. This time, you were broken. Literally.

Three busted ribs courtesy of a pissed-off shapeshifter and Sam playing guard dog while you “recovered” meant two things: no leaving the bunker... and no escaping him.

You’d been stuck here for five days.

Five days of watching Sam pace the library like a caged animal. Five days of feeling his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t looking. Five days of forced stillness in a place that never quite let you forget the silence.

And it was messing with your head.

The painkillers had mostly worn off by now—just enough ache in your ribs to remind you not to laugh or move too fast—but the real problem wasn’t your injuries.

It was Sam.

He was everywhere.

In the library, shirtless and sweaty from working out. In the kitchen, barefoot and sleepy-eyed in the mornings. In the hallway, brushing past you with his warm hands and deeper-than-necessary "how are you feeling?"

And then there was the room situation.

Yours had a broken vent making it a wind tunnel of noise. Which meant you were in Sam’s room. His bed. His space.

You kept telling yourself it was temporary. You were injured. It made sense. Practical, even. But nothing about sharing a bed with Sam Winchester was practical.

It was a slow torture.

Because it wasn’t just the way he smelled—like cedar and old books and something warm. It wasn’t just the low timbre of his voice when he murmured “good night” in the dark.

It was the closeness.

The tension.

The way your body tuned into every inch of space between you, like a live wire humming just under your skin.

It was the way you’d woken up last night to his arm slung over your waist, his chest pressed to your back, and stayed there—pretending to still be asleep just so you wouldn’t have to move.

God, you were in trouble.

And tonight? Tonight was going to break you.

“Still hurting?” Sam asked from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, damp from a post-shower towel wrapped low around his hips.

You blinked. The book you weren’t reading slid a little from your lap. You didn’t answer right away—mostly because your brain had short-circuited.

“I’m fine,” you said, a little too fast, a little too sharp.

He quirked a brow. “That was convincing.”

You rolled your eyes and looked away, trying to ignore how obscene it was that he just casually existed like that. “I mean it. It’s just ribs. Not dying.”

Sam took a step closer. “You sure? I could take a look—”

“No,” you cut in quickly, heart tripping. “I’m good. Really.”

He paused, then smirked, and damn if that didn’t heat your entire bloodstream.

“Alright,” he said softly, voice dragging a little like he knew exactly what effect he was having on you. “But I’m here. If you need anything.”

He left the door open behind him. You didn’t realize you’d stopped breathing until he was gone.

Later that night, the bunker felt too quiet. You’d tried sleeping early—bad idea. The bed was too warm. Or maybe it was just him. Sam had slipped in beside you about an hour ago, careful not to jostle the mattress, careful not to press too close.

And that carefulness was driving you insane.

You were lying on your side, facing away from him, eyes wide open. Every nerve was buzzing. You could feel the heat of his body behind you, not touching but close enough that your skin itched with awareness.

You swallowed hard. Then said it.

“I can’t sleep.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Yeah. Me neither.”

You shifted, turning to face him. Even in the dim light of the room, you could make out his features—soft, a little shadowed, his hair mussed from the pillow.

His eyes met yours. Neither of you looked away.

“You know this is driving me crazy, right?” you whispered.

“What is?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely between you. “Being stuck here. You. Me. This stupid bed.”

Sam’s gaze darkened a little, jaw ticking. “It’s not just you.”

There was a pause. A dangerous one.

“You’re not injured anymore,” he said, voice lower now.

“Not really.”

“So what are we doing?”

You exhaled, your heart thudding in your chest. “I don’t know.”

He leaned in a little. “Because I think about you, you know. All the time.”

Your breath caught.

“In the library. The kitchen. In this bed.” He moved even closer, now barely an inch away. “I wake up thinking about you. I go to sleep thinking about you.”

“Sam…”

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

The silence cracked like thunder between you.

Your hand moved before your brain could stop it—fingers threading into his hair as you pulled his mouth to yours.

The kiss was searing.

No hesitation, no slow burn—just heat and hunger and too many nights spent wanting. His mouth moved over yours like he’d been starving, and maybe he had. Maybe you both had. His hands were gentle at first, careful not to hurt your ribs, but you tugged him closer, needing more, needing everything.

When he finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more okay.”

He laughed softly, eyes crinkling in that way that made your chest ache. “Guess we caught a case of bunker fever, huh?”

You grinned. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been infected for months.”

Sam chuckled again, kissing you slower this time, deeper.

You woke up warm.

For a moment, you didn’t remember where you were. The room was still dark, the heavy curtains blocking out the morning light, but the slow, steady rise and fall under your cheek was a dead giveaway.

Sam.

You were wrapped around him like a second skin—your leg thrown over his hips, one arm tucked against his chest, your face buried against his throat. His arms were locked around you, strong and solid and immovable.

Safe.

You breathed him in, that familiar mix of soap and salt and something just purely Sam, and your heart clenched so tightly it almost hurt.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to fall into him so easily, so completely.

But God, it felt right.

He shifted slightly under you, the muscles in his chest flexing, and you froze, worried you’d wake him. But instead of pulling away, Sam murmured something low and sleepy against your hair—and tightened his hold.

"Stay," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled against his skin, your heart doing a stupid, fluttering dance in your ribs. "Not going anywhere."

And you meant it.

You let yourself drift for a while longer, content in the heavy silence, until you felt his fingers slowly brushing up and down your spine. Soft. Unhurried.

"You awake?" you whispered.

"Have been," he admitted, voice still rumbling and rough from sleep. "Didn’t wanna move. Didn’t wanna risk you slipping away."

You lifted your head, just enough to look at him. His hair was a mess, pillow-creased and wild. His eyes were soft, open in a way you hardly ever got to see—unguarded.

"You’re kind of a sap," you teased gently, but your voice was too full of affection to land the blow.

Sam huffed a laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah. For you? I guess I am."

The weight of that hit you harder than any monster ever could.

You shifted, slowly, straddling his waist with careful hands braced on either side of his ribs. His hands slid down to your hips like it was second nature, fingertips pressing into the curve of you with a kind of reverence that made your breath catch.

"You know," you said, voice dropping to a whisper, "if this is how we cure bunker fever... maybe we should stay quarantined a little longer."

Sam smirked, his hands running up under the hem of your shirt, palms hot against your skin. "Best idea I’ve heard all week."

You leaned down, kissing him softly at first—then deeper when he responded with a low, needy sound that lit your whole body on fire. His hands roamed with more confidence now, every touch making it harder to think, harder to breathe.

He kissed you like he wanted to memorize you. Like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

And maybe you were.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you lost yourself in him, in the heat building and building like a tidal wave that refused to break.

But before things could spiral too fast, Sam broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, both of you panting.

"We can go slow," he whispered, searching your face. "We’ve got time. You’re still healing."

You blinked at him, heart swelling in your chest. He wasn’t just offering patience—he was offering everything.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promised again, threading your fingers through his hair. "You’re stuck with me now."

Sam’s answering grin was crooked and perfect.

"Good," he said, pulling you back down into another kiss, this one sweet and lingering and full of promises that didn’t need words.

Because in that bed, in that bunker, tangled up with him—you realized something.

You weren’t stuck.

You were exactly where you wanted to be.

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

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I have it all right here (Lando Norris)

Matilda Norris makes her way earthside

Note: english is not my first language. It's dad!Lando, so you know I shrieked as soon as I saw this request ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy, labour/birth, hospitals

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Lando", you called, shaking your husband as he slept peacefully next to you. For the past 24 hours, more than the rest of the pregnancy, he had been by your side since you kept feeling Braxton-Hicks contractions, doting on you as much as he could so you could be a little bit more comfortable.

He held you in his embrace as he whispered sweet things as you cried, feeling all of the emotions as you whispered "I feel like I've been pregnant for decades, Lando! And I can't do anything on my own", you hiccuped as he rubbed your back sweetly, "you're growing our babygirl until she's ready to come and meet us, that's not nothing, my love", he would soothe, kissing your head multiple times as the pressure on your lower belly increased.

"Are you having Braxton-Hicks again?", he mumbled groggily, rolling over to face you after turning his bedside lamp on.

"I think these are real contractions, like, the ones I actually have when I'm in labour", you smiled.

"How are you feeling? Do they hurt a lot?", he wondered. It was amazing how his brain could switch on like that, going from sleepy to fully aware in seconds.

"It feels like really bad period cramps, but they're definitely worse than what I've felt these past couple of days", you reasoned, cuddling into his open arms, "you know this means we're that little bit closer to meeting her, right?", you tried to shift his attention, failing miserably as he grabbed his phone, "we should track them, so we know when to go to the hospital", he opened the app and propped the phone by your face so you could tap the screen.

"I'm good, love", you tranquilized, touching his temple lovingly, "I'm actually excited! We're going to meet our babygirl soon!".

Sure, there had been moments where you didn't feel amazing, morning sickness that lasted all day, tears that came out of nowhere when you felt like you had been pregnant for the longest time ever, pain in you back and hips and not being able to do things like you used to. But it was so worth it. You had created a new life with the love of your life and although she wasn't planned, it didn't mean that she wasn't wanted or loved. Much to the contrary, you and Lando loved that little girl so much already, as well as everyone else around you, falling in love the minute they saw your ultrasound.

When they started feeling too much for you, Lando moved you both to the shower, supporting your hips as you swayed from side to side, the warm water from the shower practically erasing the pressure for now, "this probably will be the last time in a while that I'll be naked with you and you won't find me weird", you blushed.

Your husband quickly tutted, "no way I'll find you weird, you're so beautiful, Y/N. You're my wife, the mother of my babygirl, you're making me a father, and I will never look at you and think anything less that you're gorgeous, amazing and unstoppable", he added, looking for your eyes and ensuring the message got through to you, "you're the best, Lando", you smiled, kissing his lips before wiping your hands on the towell, tapping the screen to stop the count for the contraction as a message popped up, "it says it is a good time to follow up with the midwife as they're coming closer together", you showed him.

Helping you out and getting dressed in a comfy dress, the sun was rising outside as you bounced on your ball while Lando called the midwife, "Hi, Amelia! It's Lando, did you see our texts? Y/N seems to be in labour", you heard him say on the phone, fingers close to his mouth as he bit his nails nervously while giving her as much information as he knew.

"She says she will be waiting for us at the hospital", Lando informed as he stored his phone in his pocket, "what is missing from the bags?".

"Hmm, phone chargers for both of our phones, the pregnancy pillow - I think it's in our bed -, and I think that's it, the rest has already been packed", you smiled, rubbing your bump, "we need to bring the ball but I'll only let you take this away from me when we go to the car.

"C'mon, my love, easy easy", Lando guided you, hand on the small of your back as you walked to the car, "I can do this on my own, you know that, right?", you giggled, "holding his hand as he opened the door for you, "I know you can, doesn't mean that I don't want to help you or be here in case something happens", he charmed, making sure you were sitting as comfortably as you could.

Running back inside, Lando got all the bags and brought them to the car, closing the trunk and meeting you in the front, "Let's go have a baby", he said, kissing your cheek before switching the car into gear.

Driving to the hospital was fine, making you think that if you could, you should give birth while Lando drove you around as it was the calmest you had seen him since your contractions started.

"Let's not worry until, and if, we have to, okay?", Lando nudged at you, driving into the parking lot and seeing Amelia waving at you.

Taking a deep breath, you took off your seatbelt once the car was parked and opened the door, "Good morning! Y/N, how are we doing this morning?", she smiled, helping you get out as Lando thanked the nurse that had joined you to carry the bags.

"I'm good, although these are getting serious now", you breathed through, accepting Amelia's hand.

"I'm going to park the car and then I'll join you upstairs, okay?", Lando said, kissing your forehead sweetly, "I'll be quick, baby, you won't even notice I'm gone", he smiled.

After checking you in and going up to your room, Amelia helped you into the hospital gown as she introduced the rest of the team you hadn't met yet, "my husband should be here any mi- oh, there he is!", you pointed to the curly haired man asking one of the nurses for you.

"I'm here, I'm here!", he said, breathing in, "I'm Lando, the husband, and father to the little one", he introduced himself, greeting everyone in the room before coming to sit next to you, "need help with anything?", he noticed you fumbling with the sleeves, folding them as Amelia explained what they were expecting to happen and what they would do.

As everyone else left the room, Lando helped you go back to bounce on the ball, grabbing a stool with wheels so he could be at the same level, "are they getting bad?", he questioned. Your eyebrows furrowed more than they relaxed and your eyes were shut most of the time.

Smiling at his voice, you opened your eyes, "they're getting closer now, stronger too. Bouncing isn't as effective as it was when we were home, so we either move to the big drugs or we have to find something else to help", you wiggled your eyebrows.

"We still have all of those stretches to go through, I also remember that one article about how touches just out-", you were quick to slap his arm, "your hands are not going anywhere near the downstairs region, oh, no no no, mister. As much as I believe your fingers could work their magic, I don't want you to be around the area that's going to stretch and push a human out. Not today, baby, not today", you threatened lightly, joking with him despite knowing he genuinely had the best intentions.

"Mum sends her well wishes and a bunch of pink ballons", Lando showed you the text message in the family group chat, seeing your face contort in pain, "hey, do you want to move to the bed or walk around a little bit?", he suggested.

"I want up", you said, holding your arms out so he could support you as someone knocked on the door, "hello Y/N, we came in here to check your dilation. Is that okay?", Amelia asked, putting on gloves.

"I just got up", you sighed, not wanting to sit or lie down again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so rude", you looked up, "where do you need me?".

"Standing up is fine, dear", Amelia crouched down, "I'm just going to touch you", she informed, doing so before coming back up, "you're at 7 cm, dear! You're progressing very well. And, Y/N, we're here to make this as comfortable as possible for you, you don't have to apologise for voicing your needs".

Your husband crouched down, searching for your eyes and hoping to see what you needed through them when you bent, "Here, lean on me, gorgeous", Lando urged, standing straight and grabbing your arms and lacing them around his neck, hands joint on the nape of his neck as you allowed your hips to loosen and allow your abdomen to rest a little too, gravity doing its thing. For anyone else, you included, this would've been a band-aid fix until you fell down, your legs not taking in the force and collapsing soon, but luckily for you, your husband was an athlete with unusually good neck strength so, for a good while, this would work.

"Is that nice?", he wondered, checking in if this position wasn't at the very least hurting and causing you even more pain.

"It's good, yes", you breathed out, syncing with him as you looked up him, your chin resting just below his sternum, "hey there", he whispered as his soft tone brought a smile to your face, almost numbing all the pressure you felt.

"Hey", you blushed as you felt his gaze on you even though he was not looking or concerned about anyone else in that room other than you and his little girl, "I don't know why we've never done this before, I'm actually comfortable", you joked, "glad we found out sooner than later, we can adopt this greeting from here on", he joked back, a little relieved that you were feeling a little bit better.

"I want up, again", you groaned, "I feel like pushing, and I don't know if I can, call someone, please", you asked Lando as you walked about the room once he helped you to stand, ringing the bell, "you're doing so well, love, so so so well", he whispered, holding you as you swayed from side to side.

"Y/N! Do you think it's time?", the OB asked, "I feel like I have to push, but I'm afraid of doing something wrong, so I need someone to check and make sure I'm not doing something bad for me or for my baby", you explained, humming as she approached you.

"It's time to push, Y/N!", the OB winked at you as she put her gloves on, "do you know how you want to do this?", she questioned.

"Can I have him behind me? My back is killing me but I don't want to sit", you tried your best to explain the vision you had in your head.

Lando was quick to push your back gently against his chest as the nurses and Amelia covered the floor around you with disposable covers, "you can hold her by placing your arms under hers - yes, like that -, that way Y/N can let her body do what it needs to do", she guided as Lando held you under your armpits, hands lacing on your chest, "you've got this, my love", he whispered.

"When you feel the contraction, just push and go along with it!", she urged as she sat in position to catch your baby. You allowed your body to fall against your husband, hoping his strength wouldn't fail you now.

Your body urged you to push and you did what it told you, faintly feeling Lando's lips on your sweaty forehead as he whispered words of encouragement while you pushed, "just a little more, I promise, gorgeous, you're doing so well bringing Tilly to us", he said.

Five big pushes and your baby girl was earthside in Amelia's arms, and with a few wiggles, baby Matilda let out her first cry.

"Should we lay Iin the bed now, mummy?", one of the nurses asked as she helped Lando move you to the bed right next to you as they cut the chord.

"Here's your babygirl, congratulations!", she said, putting the little human on your chest after you let one of the sleeves drop so her skin touched yours, "hello, my love, we're your mummy and daddy", you cooed, tears falling from your eyes as you touched her cheeks, kissing her fingers as she seemed to noticed her movements had a little bit more freedom now.

"Hey, beautiful girl", Lando hiccuped, not having two cares in the world that he was crying in a room full of people. He only cared about you, rubbing your shoulder, and the little baby on your chest. His daughter.

"Now we're gonna need to take this little girl to check everything while you deliver the placenta alright?", one of the nurses said and you extended your arms so she could grab him, "I'll stay her with her, if that's okay", Lando checked.

"We'll do it here, you'll still be in the same room", she smiled as she moved to the counter on the side of the room, pulling out the materials she needed like the measuring tape, a scale and such.

"I'll just be in the way there", he said with loving (and still a bit teary) eyes, "I love you so much, baby. Thank you for this, thank you, thank you", Lando said, brushing the hair away from your eyes.

"Thank you for not letting me give up, and for letting me use you like monkey bars in the playground", you smiled, puckering your lips so he would take the hint and kiss them.

The moment Matilda was placed back in her daddy's arms and chest, Lando was sure he would do anything in the world that he needed to do to make sure his family was safe and happy. He vowed to always be there whenever you and his daughter needed, to support you everytime even if he wasn't physically close and to always love you both, no matter what.

"You look so much like mummy, gorgeous girl", he whispered, "you have her chubby cheeks, her nose, although hers is not as button like as yours, but the resemblance is there. You're so loved, babygirl. You have so many uncles waiting to shower you with kisses and presents, grandparents that can't wait to meet you. And me and mummy have wanted you for so long. It wasn't, maybe, in a timing we figured would be best, but the more we thought about it, the more we figured that maybe there wouldn't have been a great timing ever, so your surprise was the best one, ever. I met your mummy because of our work, or part of what I do as well, you'll soon find out. She's so strong, just like you, eh?", he chuckled as she held his finger in her fist with the reflexive tight grip, "and she's kind, persistent, so intelligent, and I hope you get all of those traits, too. You're our dreams come true, Matilda", he said as he kissed her forehead, making her scrunch deliciously against his naked chest.

"How's everyone in here?", Amelia asked after she knocked on the door, to which you replied after the noise woke you up, "we're doing good, the food helped a lot, thank you", referring to the tray of food they brought you as you had barely gotten any sleep since the day before and did not have much of an appetite during labour.

"Now we should see this little one's tummy, if that's okay. Because any minute now I think she'll be hungry", she asked as Lando put on a shirt after placing your daughter on your chest.

Uncovering your chest after joking about everyone in the room having been all in the up in there and how it wasn't a boob flashing that was going to compromise you further, you urged your babygirl to latch on your nipple.

"Alright, let's get this baby to latch, shall we? I'm probably going to have to touch you if that's okay", the nurse said while you nodded, "C'mon, little one, you can't be too lazy about this, it's right there ready for you!", she smiled as she touched her cheek, the reflex immediate as she suckled, "Good job, Matilda", she whispered, looking at your vitals.

"And you, Y/N? How are you feeling?", she questioned as she registered the numbers on her iPad, "I'm good, a little tired, but otherwise fine and very much in love", you blushed, touching Matilda's cheek.

"Lando?", Amelia finally asked, bringing Lando out of his focus as he watched you and your daughter.

Sighing, Lando had the look of love, as Max would often tell him whenever his eyes glossed over and he had the biggest smile on his face, "I'm on cloud nine. I have both of my girls finally with me, they're well and they're healthy. I'm on cloud nine, indeed, I don't need anything else. I have it all right here".

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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justastraymoa · 7 months ago

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Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 9

The reveal pt 2

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿

The next morning, before dawn, Chan gently shook me awake. “Good morning, lovie.”

Groaning, I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head, not ready to be awake. I’m warm and comfortable, no way is Chan going to get me out of this bed. Sadistic bastard!

“Up, up, up! We have a couple hours before the live. We need to agree on a track list and get practicing.”

“Fuck you and your fucking track list.” I snapped.

Someone cackled. “You made her shit list, Hyung.” I.N said amused.

“Yeah, yeah. I can be on any list you want, as long as you get up and get ready.” Chan dismissed shoving at my hip again so I couldn’t fall back asleep.

With a frustrated sigh I uncovered my head. “I will find a way to get you back for this.” I promised darkly.

“You can’t do that if you’re still in bed!” Chan’s voice faded as he left the room.

Rolling onto my back I took a minute to rub the sleep from my face and attempt to wake my sluggish brain up. A task that currently felt like an uphill battle I was losing.

“I’d say you get used to it, but you really, really don’t.” I.N said.

“Mm. Where is everyone else?”

“Getting dressed, eating breakfast.”

Slowly I sat up and opened my eyes. Only to immediately squeeze them shut again. The room was bright. Too bright. It stung my sensitive eyes and only added to my misery. The first full day of being Stray Kids Alpha was already proving difficult and the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

“I need a gallon of coffee.” I declared.

There was a shuffle and I.N kissed my hairline. “We can stop somewhere on the way.”

As soon as I could open my eyes I freshened up and put on the first clothes my fingers touched. Zero brainpower to plan an outfit and look cute. Not happening today.

When I met up with the others, Lee Know handed me a granola bar and Felix twisted my hair up into a baseball cap. Changbin helped me put on an oversized hoodie and black face mask. Still half asleep I just moved where they wanted me without complaint. In the back of my mind I registered that they were helping me hide my identity and scent until the live later. Something it hasn’t occurred to my sleepy brain to do when I got dressed.

“Care you even awake?” Changbin asked when I rocked off balance.

I looked at him through one open eye. “Coffee. Please.” I breathed through the face mask hiding my identity from the world.

“We can manage that. Let’s go, cars ready.” Chan informed picking up the bags sitting at his feet and heading to the door. I stumbled after him almost blindly, eyes unwilling to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time.

After I bumped into the third wall, I felt Hyunjin place his warm hands on my upper arms and start steering me. Keeping me from bumping into any more obstacles.

Once in the car I leaned on the nearest shoulder and immediately dozed off. Since it was still so early the Omegas were pretty quiet. Only talking lowly amongst themselves. The murmur was a pleasant lullaby.

Gentle finders brushed hair from my temple and stroked over the exposed apple of my left cheek. “Wake me up one more time, Chan, and I will neuter you.” I growled.

A puff of air hit me as Hyunjin laughed. “It’s me. Sorry, we need your coffee order.”

This roused me and I opened my eyes. Hyunjin was crouched in front of me with a soft fond look on his face. “Coffee?”

He smiled brightly at me. “Yes. Coffee. What would you like?”

As soon as there was a hot coffee in my hands, I started to feel like a human again. The smell and hot steam helped me keep my eyes open while I waited for the drink to cool off enough to drink.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Changbin teased.

I shook my head, testing my coffee. Still too hot. “Not yet.” I answered roughly.

It was only a couple more minutes before the car stopped at a sheltered back entrance of JYPE.

“Wait! Mask, Y/n.” Chan reminded when I slid toward the door.

“Oh, right. Thanks.” I replied pulling the mask back into place.

Apparently, conference rooms are pretty much the same no matter what country you are in. Long table with chairs all around, large white board covering one wall, huge TV on another, A conference phone smack dab in the middle of the table. As well as the group company photo squeezed into a random patch of wall, everyone wearing matching shirts.

There were several people already in the room when we arrived. I stopped in the doorway and looked to Chan wide eyes. I hadn’t thought about anyone else being here and my first instinct was to leave before they saw or smelled me.

Chan smiled and reached for me. “It’s okay, Y/n. This is our manager, the set manager, and sound master. They won’t bite.

I nodded and waved at the 3 Betas holding my coffee cup in front of me like a caffeine shield. They nodded back, politely uninterested in my presence. I sighed silently, relieved.

I wheeled one of the chairs into a corner out of the way and curled up into it, cradling my coffee as I sipped at it. I watched as everyone settled in, more animated and loud now that they were more awake.

Everyone looked soft and cozy. Hair product free and floofy, comfortable clothing, no makeup. I kind of liked them like this. Just people and not idols. These were my Omegas in their ‘true’ form so to speak.

I had no idea what to expect in a meeting like this. I was insanely curious about this part of the process. What went into the songs they picked to perform. How the set theme was decided. How they came up with the absolutely amazing sets and performances. As a fan you never really got a complete explanation for any of this.

That being said, it wasn’t long before they started speaking in terms I didn’t understand. I got bored pretty quickly after that.

So instead, I pulled out my phone and caught up on all the Stray Kids stuff I avoided when I was gone. And started the process of officially moving. Canceling my mail, getting my appointments canceled, changing accounts to my new Korea address. I needed to make lists, I know I am forgetting things.

Most importantly I need a Korean phone plan, because the overseas charges on my current plan were absolutely outrageous! I don’t know the first thing about Korean phone plans or companies. Does Verizon exist here? It had too. Verizon exists everywhere, right?

Felix must have gotten bored because he pulled my chair close to his and started to watch what I was doing over my shoulder. I glanced up, pretty sure he is supposed to be paying attention, but Chris seemed to pretty much be handling everything. The others interjecting occasionally.

“We can just put you on our plan.” Felix whispered to me in his Australian accented English.

“Youre all on the same plan?” I never thought about their phone plan.

“Yeah, the company pays for it and has all the information in case we get hacked or something.”

Oh, the company. “No, I’ll just get my own plan.”

“Why?”

“I’m not with the company. Im with you guys. I don’t feel comfortable having the company pay my bills.”

“Its not like you haven’t earned it. Besides, they will need the information for you too in case you get hacked or lose your phone.”

Saying I ‘earned it’ felt too much like I was being paid to be their Alpha, and that felt gross. I made a face, but didn’t respond to him. This wasn’t the time or place for this conversation.

However, it did remind me that I needed to find some way to make money. No way in hell would I be depending on the boys financially like that. They aren’t my sugar daddies and im not a gold digger.

I only needed a short-term solution. Just until I am forced to sign a contract with the company and they ‘strongly suggest’ becoming a brand ambassador or to do a commercial or something like that. I need something to hold me over until I ultimately end up working for JYPE. It was only a matter of time.

The meeting blissfully wrapped up quickly after our short conversation. And with a track list decided, it was time to start refreshing themselves on the lyrics and dances. So, we moved to a practice studio in another part of the building.

I.N handed me a familiar black bag as I made myself comfortable in the back corner of the room. I looked at him with wide eyes. “My camera? You brought it for me?” It was amazingly nice of him. My camera is a part of me and I usually don’t go anywhere without it, but I was too tired this morning to think of grabbing it.

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “Figured you would be less bored if you could take photos.”

I pulled him down into a hug, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and squeezing him tight. Cuteness aggression is a very real thing.

“Alright, alright! Enough!” He complained pulling away, cheeks dusted a light pink and avoiding my eyes.

I giggled and dug into my bag. Everything I could need is here. I was unbelievably excited to get some shots of the Omegas. And having something to do will pass the time quicker.

Standing up I took a few test pictures to adjust for lighting and quality.

As they did their thing I snapped action shots of each of them, doing my best to stay out of the way.

Stray Kids, being the gremlins they were, started to make overexaggerated silly faces. There was even some rude gestures thrown in here and there. I smiled at their antics, not deterred in the slightest.

As everyone rested and got some water, Chan approached me. “Since this is an official live with announcements, they are going to want to do hair, makeup, and outfits.” He warned.

I wrinkled my nose, but already suspected as much. “Okay. I look like shit today anyways, so that’s probably a good thing.”

He flicked my ear lightly. “Stop. You look lovely.”

I rolled my eyes and swatted at the offending hand. “Whatever you say. When is this makeover?”

“We will head over when everyone has had a chance to rest.”

“Ill pack up then.” I nodded to the camera in my hands.

Hair, makeup, and wardrobe was an overwhelming experience. At any given moment I had 2-3 people surrounding me. Poking, pulling, and prodding all over. My face was plastered, my hair yanked and gooped. And at one point I swear I saw the metallic flash of a pair of scissors.

The room itself is loud and chaotic. People yelled and rushed around everywhere. All the overstimulation was starting to get to me. I felt my patience growing short and my muscles get tense. The lights started to give me a headache and the voices made my ears ring and all blended together. I scratched my arms to try and relieve the symptoms. To have one strong thing to focus on so the others were less intense. It was something I have done since I was a baby, and I have never been able to break the need when the overstimulation gets too bad. During college I had to wear thick hoodies during mid terms and finals because if I didn’t, I would scratch so much I would bleed.

Gentle hands stilled my own and I refocused. Hand soothed my burning arms by rubbing them softly. They were bright red now. “Its okay.” He whispered understandingly but still concerned.

I sighed heavily, thankful for the reprieve. He must have shooed everyone off when he noticed my distress. “I’m sorry. I’m – it’s a lot”

He nodded and fished into his pocket. He fitted a pair of earbuds in my ears. “This may help.” He said as he scrolled through his phone for a few seconds before Gods Menu started to play. Something nondestructive for my mind to focus on. I nodded and smiled my thanks.

Han left and the people for styling converged again. Guess they only stepped away long enough for Han to help me before continuing their work. It was much easier to deal with now as Gods Menu ended and Side Effects started.

When everything was complete and I looked acceptable enough to be seen as Stray Kids’ Alpha I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. The sight made me sigh in defeat. I didn’t look like me.

The clothes were expensive looking and not my usual comfy style. My hair, usually just left alone or pulled into a messy bun was curled and styled perfectly in place. It was a couple inches shorter now too. And ive never been one for makeup. Never had a knack for applying it and didn’t like how I looked in it. Now, though natural looking, makeup was applied in such a way that it changed the shapes of my face. Nose shaded to look more angular and petite. Eyes made to look bigger and rounder. Cheeks and chin sharper. I was a different person.

“You don’t look very happy.” Chan observed.

I sighed and removed the earbuds. “They did a great job.” Its true, the work was exquisite. Flawless even.

“But?” He prompted.

My lips twisted and I looked back at the mirror. “I don’t look like me anymore.” I closed my eyes against a heavy sense of loss. I shouldn’t complain. “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

I knew this was coming. That I would lose who I was. That they would change me. I just…I guess I just wasn’t as prepared for it as I thought. I expected it to take longer. That it would be slower, piece by piece over time. This felt like all at once. I lifted my hand to mess with my hair, but caught myself and lowered it again with a hum.

Chan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me close, rubbing my upper arm. “We will have them dial it back next time.” He promised.

“And we can teach you makeup at home too, so we can find a happy medium.” Seungmin added joining us at the mirror.

“Don’t worry. Ill be fine. I was expecting this.” I straighten and pull myself together. This was fine. I looked beautiful. Flawless. Worthy to stand next to Stray Kids proudly.

“Y/n, we don’t want to change who you are. You’re perfectly fine as you are.” Chan said.

“I’m not though, am I?” It was a rhetorical question. We all knew I wasn’t even close to good looking enough on my own to be seen with gods such as them.

We were summoned away before either male could reply.

My nerves about the live and subsequently the reveal, previously forgotten when I became overstimulated, then saw myself in the mirror, returned full force. Millions of people are about to watch me on live and find out im an Alpha. They will know my face. I'll be plastered all over the internet.

What if I made a fool of myself? Or said the wrong thing? What if I embarrassed the boys? Ruined their reputation? Or worse yet, turned STAY against them? So much could go wrong.

The live setting was familiar. A living room set up that they had used before on past lives and videos.

“You look ready to vomit.” JYP said from behind me.

I spun around, excited. I didn’t expect J to show up today. “J! what are you doing here?” I threw my arms around him.

“Its your reveal day, I didn’t want to miss it.” He replied patting my back.

I smiled at him, thankful for his comforting fatherly presence. Someone who had secretly been watching over me my whole life. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me now. It would ruin all his hard work.

“Don’t let me say anything stupid, please.” I requested wringing my hands.

J chuckled. “Sorry, hun, but your bound to put your foot in your mouth eventually.”

I groaned and bounced a little to try and relieve some anxiety. “Ooh, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. Just be yourself. Stray Kids have always been authentic and chaotic, so fans are used to that. They like that.” JYP reminded me. It was true. They weren’t fake and genuinely cared about what they do and their fans. “Just flow with the conversation. They will lead you, guide you.”

I nodded and turned towards the set again. Lee Know was at a mounted tablet set up for the live on a tripod. He tapped a few buttons on the screen.

“Okay. We are live.” He announced before moving to take his seat next to Han on one of the couches.

There wasn't enough air in the room.

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl

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glowettee · 5 months ago

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analyzing what went wrong (like actually wrong) - part 2/5 🎀

1st post

posted by: glowettee

hey study besties! ♡ mindy here!!!!!

welcome back to my little grade recovery series! now that we've processed our feelings and dried our tears, it's time to put on our detective hats (make it pink, obviously) and figure out exactly what happened. this is where we get super real but super helpful!

♡ the pre-test investigation

let's look at everything that happened before the test/assignment:

study method audit:

were you just reading and highlighting? (spoiler: that's not actually studying)

did you try to memorize instead of understand? (guilty of this in my first year)

were you doing practice problems or just looking at them?

did you create your own study materials or just rely on reading?

i learned this the hard way - highlighting things in pretty colors isn't the same as actually learning them. what helped me was creating my own practice questions and pretending i was teaching the material to my stuffed animals (don't judge, it works!).

♡ the time management tea (sorry for these weird titles, lol <3)

be brutally honest about your study timeline:

last-minute cramming or consistent studying?

how many actual focused study hours? (scrolling through #studytok doesn't count)

did you have a study schedule?

were you taking proper breaks?

i started tracking my actual study time using a cute timer app and realized i was only doing about 20 minutes of real studying in what i thought was a "2-hour study session." yikes!

♡ the environment check

your study space matters so much:

where were you studying? (your bed doesn't count, bestie)

how was the lighting? (dim lighting = sleepy brain)

what distractions were around?

did you have all your materials organized?

i created a dedicated study space with good lighting, my favorite scented candle, and zero phone access. it literally changed everything.

♡ the content breakdown

this is where we get super specific:

which topics gave you trouble?

what patterns do you see in wrong answers?

were there specific types of questions you missed?

did you understand the basics before moving to complex stuff?

(IMPORTANT) make a chart (make it cute but functional) listing every topic and rate your understanding from 1-5. this becomes your study guide!

♡ the test-taking trauma

let's analyze the actual test experience:

did you read all instructions carefully?

how was your time management?

did anxiety take over?

were you physically prepared? (proper sleep, food, etc.)

i started doing mock tests under real conditions and found out i was spending way too much time on early questions and rushing through the rest.

♡ the resource reality check

what help did you actually use?:

did you go to office hours? (they're literally free tutoring)

did you use study groups effectively?

were you using all available resources?

did you ask for help when needed?

confession: i used to skip office hours because they scared me. now they're my literal secret weapon for acing classes.

♡ creating your analysis document

grab your favorite notebook or digital doc and create these sections:

concept confusion list

study technique evaluation

time management analysis

resource gaps

test-taking troubles

improvement ideas

♡ the action plan prep

based on your analysis, start thinking about:

which study methods you'll keep/change

what new resources you'll use

how you'll manage time differently

what help you need to seek out

how you'll prepare differently next time

this analysis isn't about beating yourself up - it's about creating the perfect strategy for your comeback. think of it like analyzing why your skincare routine isn't working - once you know what's wrong, you can fix it!

xoxo, mindy 🎀

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tinyshyteacup · 3 months ago

Text

TW: Cussing

Part 15

A Charming Detour - Part 16

Juice woke up to warmth.

Soft, steady breathing. The faint scent of shampoo.

For a second, he didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Because you were still there.

Curled up on your side, facing him, looking so damn peaceful that it made his chest ache.

The bedsheets were tangled, one of your hands tucked beneath your cheek, the other resting lightly against his arm—just barely touching, like you’d reached for him in your sleep and didn’t even realize.

And Juice—

Jesus, he just stared.

Because fuck, you were beautiful.

And not in the way that made his brain short-circuit when you smiled at him—this was different.

This was—the sight of you, still soft with sleep, lashes fanned out against your cheeks.

God.

This was dangerous, something he wasn’t supposed to have, wasn’t supposed to want, but God, did he want it anyway.

He swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away.

He needed to get up.

Needed to move before he did something stupid—like reach out and brush the hair from your face.

Or say something he couldn’t take back.

Carefully—slowly—he shifted, trying not to wake you as he slipped out of bed.

But then—

"Mmf…"

Juice froze.

Your nose scrunched up as you made a sleepy little noise, rolling slightly onto your back.

And then—

"…Juice?"

His breath caught.

"Yeah, babe?"

Your eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep.

And for a second—just a second—you looked at him like you belonged there.

Like waking up next to him was the most natural thing in the world.

And Juice felt it.

Felt that stupid, dangerous hope claw its way up his ribs.

But then—

"…What time is it?" You yawned, rubbing your eyes.

The moment shattered.

Juice cleared his throat. "Uh—early. You want breakfast?"

You hummed, still groggy. "Are you making it."

He smirked. "That a wife demand?"

"Mmhmm." You stretched, then mumbled, with a sleepy smile "Am I allowed to claim that perk ?."

Juice bit the inside of his cheek, ignoring the way his stomach flipped.

If only you fucking knew.

Juice made eggs.

Scrambled, slightly burnt because he kept getting distracted watching you pad around the kitchen in his hoodie.

His hoodie.

Which was way too big on you, the sleeves rolled up as you drank from your mug of coffee, eyes still sleepy.

And Juice—

Juice needed to focus.

Needed to stop fucking looking at you like you weren’t just his fake wife.

"You good?" you asked, tilting your head.

Juice blinked. "Uh—yeah. Why?"

"You’ve been stirring those eggs for like five minutes."

Juice glanced down.

Sure enough—scrambled eggs. Or… what used to be scrambled eggs.

"Shit."

You giggled, and Juice swore he almost melted.

Breakfast was easy.

Domestic.

Almost real.

And Juice let himself enjoy it—just for a little while.

The day had been going fine.

You and Juice had spent most of it out—getting stuff for the apartment, running errands, getting used to this weird little fake marriage situation.

And then—

Something changed.

It was subtle.

Juice had been talking—when he saw you go weird.

Not in an obvious way.

Just—

A little quieter.

A little stiffer.

Your shoulders tensed, and your eyes flicked past him—quick, sharp, like you were checking something without wanting to be seen checking it.

Then—

You looked away.

Swallowed.

And tried to act normal.

Juice frowned. "Hey. You good?"

"Yeah." Your voice was breezy, too quick. "Fine."

Juice squinted at you. "…You sure?"

"Mhm."

A beat.

Then you grabbed the next thing on the shopping list and turned away—just a little too fast.

Juice hesitated.

Then, as casually as he could, he turned his head—just enough to get a glimpse of what you’d seen.

Just a handful of people walking through the store.

But there was nothing.

Just a handful of people browsing the store.

Some dude in a sleeveless shirt walking toward the register.

Nothing weird.

Nothing that should’ve made you act like that.

So why did it feel like you were hiding something?

Juice gave you an easy grin, knocked his shoulder against yours, and said, "C’mon, babe. I still gotta convince you that we need a giant-ass TV."

And just like that—

You rolled your eyes.

And you smiled.

By the time you got home, things had evened out again.

Whatever had weirded you out earlier, you’d shaken it off.

And Juice—

Juice had decided not to push.

He knew what it was like to have shit in your head that you didn’t wanna talk about.

If you wanted to tell him, you would.

Until then—

He’d just focus on getting you both settled.

"Alright," Juice said, dropping the last bag on the counter. "Operation ‘Make This Place Not Look Like a Prison Cell’ is officially underway."

You let out a small laugh. "That’s a terrible name."

"Yeah, well, I’m open to suggestions, babe."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you started pulling things out of bags—folding blankets, stacking dishes, finding places for everything that was left.

And Juice—

Juice just watched you for a second.

You looked so comfortable like this.

Like you belonged here.

And Juice—

God help him—

Juice didn’t even try to fight the warm, stupid feeling in his chest.

Juice stepped through the apartment door, balancing two takeout bags in one hand while nudging the door shut with his hip.

"Alright, babe, dinner’s here—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the tangled mess of cables and controllers in front of the TV, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

"Uh… you good?" Juice asked, setting the food down on the counter.

"Mhm." You didn’t even look up. "Just trying to figure out how to set this up."

Juice grinned, crossing the room. "You know it’s not a bomb, right? You can’t mess it up that bad."

"I know." You shot him a look. "I just—I’ve never done this before."

Juice crouched down beside you, looking over the mess of wires. "Wait—hold up. You’ve never set up a console before?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

Juice stared at you, half-amused, half-disbelieving. "What kind of childhood did you have?"

"One where I was clearly pampered" you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

"Kidding—I always just let my cousins set it up for me."

Juice huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Damn."

You nudged him playfully. "Well, that’s why I have you now, right?"

Juice froze.

You hadn’t meant anything by it—you were just teasing.

But the words lodged themselves somewhere deep in his chest.

You had him.

It didn’t take long for Juice to get everything set up.

And once you both started playing—

Time flew.

It was easy.

Natural.

Juice had always been good at co-op games, and you—

Well, you were enthusiastic about co-op games.

"No, no, no—Juan, help!" you yelped, mashing the buttons as your character got swarmed.

Juice laughed, leaning into you as he reached for your controller. "Gimme—Jesus, babe, what are you even doing—?"

"I don’t know, just fix it!"

Juice took over for a second, quickly wiping out the enemies before handing the controller back to you.

You sighed dramatically. "This is why I always watched other people play"

"— fucking co-ops" you grumbled

"Nah, you’re getting better," Juice assured you, nudging your shoulder with his. "Just gotta work on your reflexes."

"You mean my unrelenting blind panic?"

"Exactly."

The next time you died, you flopped dramatically against Juice’s side, groaning. "I give up."

Juice chuckled. "You lasted longer this time."

"Only because you saved my arse," you mumbled sleepily.

Juice glanced down at you.

You were still curled against him, head resting on his shoulder, fingers curled loosely around the controller in your lap.

And for a second—

Juice just let himself exist in the moment.

Your warmth against him.

The quiet sound of the game’s menu music looping in the background.

The way your breath was slowing, getting deeper, like you were starting to drift off.

God.

He could get used to this.

The apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing outside. Juice lay on his back, eyes half-lidded, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

It had been a good night. A perfect night, even. Takeout, video games, and you almost falling asleep against him on the couch, trusting him without hesitation.

Maybe this could be real.

Just as his breathing began to slow, settling into sleep, he heard you shift beside him.

A quiet whimper.

Then another.

Juice tensed, brow furrowing as he turned his head toward you.

Even in the dim light from the window, he could see it—how you were curled in on yourself, arms wrapped around your body like you were trying to keep warm.

Shit.

Juice hesitated.

Then, slowly, carefully, he reached for the blanket, tugging it up over your shoulders, trying to cocoon you in warmth.

For a moment, he thought that would be enough.

But you shivered again, looking so tiny on the other side of the bed and something in Juice’s chest ached.

Instinct took over before logic could stop him.

Carefully—hesitantly—he slid closer, draping an arm around your waist, letting his body heat seep into you.

You relaxed immediately, a quiet sigh slipping past your lips.

Juice swallowed.

Jesus.

This was dangerous.

But he couldn’t make himself move.

Instead, he shifted even closer, pressing his forehead lightly against yours, voice barely above a whisper.

"Better, baby?"

You murmured something unintelligible, your breath warm against his skin.

Juice exhaled shakily.

It was just body heat. That’s all.

Right?

But then—

Then you shifted in your sleep, pressing your face into his chest, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt.

Juice froze— hell, time itself almost froze.

A sharp inhale, barely restrained.

You were so soft.

So warm.

So completely unaware of what you were doing to him.

He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to stay still, to just exist in this moment, to not push too far.

Then—so carefully—he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.

You just nuzzled closer, your breath feather-light against his skin.

Juice closed his eyes, willing himself to be good, to just be grateful for this moment—

But then, before he could stop himself—

He kissed you.

Soft. Barely there.

A whisper of lips against your forehead.

Right on your hairline.

As soon as he did it, Juice tensed.

His heart pounded against his ribs, guilt and longing warring in his chest.

It was nothing. Just a tiny kiss.

Then he heard it—Your voice.

Soft, slurred, wrapped in the haze of sleep.

"Juice ..." brows lightly furrowed

Juice froze, his chest ached.

"Babe?" Juice exhaled, barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to check.

You where out cold.

Breathing steady.

Even.

He reached out, carefully pulling the blankets around you both, his arm still loosely drapped around you.

He wanted this, wanted you.

Wanted the teasing, the lazy game nights, the way you looked at him like he wasn’t just some outlaw with a past he couldn’t outrun.

Juice let himself hope—

Maybe if he played his cards right—

Maybe if he was the perfect husband—

Maybe he could make this real.

Maybe you’d fall for him.

Juice turned his head, watching your face in the dim light.

Soft.

Peaceful.

Safe.

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hxney-lemcn · 7 months ago

Note

This event is so cute!!!!!

For Riddle, the sweetiepie

🌹🛏 💫 👀 😍

a/n: last Riddle request! As much as I love him it was getting harder to write for him cus his requests were quite similar, but I think I made them different enough...I hope...

tw: none.

wc: 0.3k

2k follower event | master list

Your eyes traced the curve of Riddle’s face. His ruby red hair that splayed across his pillow, free of its usual style, his face free of any makeup, grey blue eyes hidden behind his eyelids. Oh what a sight it was, seeing the uptight housewarden in such a vulnerable state. It warmed you that he trusted you enough to see him like this. It felt right, this moment, and every other that you were by his side, like you both were always bound to go back to the other. Like you both were magnets that pulled the other in. “Why are you staring?” Riddle murmured in a sleepy voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“Just a bit of drool,” You teased, a warm smile shaping your lips. Riddle looked horrified, wiping at his mouth, only to stop when you chuckled. “I was joking. Honestly, I’m a bit jealous that you look so good without doing anything.”

That seemed to get to him, his cheeks turning red and eyes averting from your own. Wanting to see if your hypothesis was right (and your sleepy brain overriding any filters), you ran your hand through his hair. How did it manage to be so smooth after a night's rest?! Sure, your fingers would snag on a tangle here and there, but it would unravel after too much resistance.

Now it was Riddle’s turn to stare, watching your loving gaze and basking in the feel of your fingers in his hair…gosh you weren’t good for his heart, but he wasn’t going to push you away. No one had ever made him feel like this, so warm, so happy, so content. No rules, no reprimanding, no pressure of failure, he wishes he could make this moment last forever.

‘If they keep this up I might just fall for them,’ Riddle thought warmly, heart skipping a beat.

“You promise?” You asked with a small hum, your smile turning a bit smug.

Riddle shoved his face into his pillow, unable to look at you in his pure embarrassment. You were going to be the end of him, and he could only smile at the thought.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #riddle rosehearts #x reader #2k event

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postmodernbeliever · 1 year ago

Text

sick and twisted- fox mulder x female reader (smutsmutsmutsmut)

in a sudden bout of sickness, you are staying with fox, who is yearning to take care of you (...in more ways than one.)

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

hope you enjoy this incredibly horny thing... wrote this as i worked through raging period hormones <333 (sometimes i still get a little nervous to post these but yknow what. if im thinking it someone else is too probably. so yolo)

my ao3 | word count: 2,906

content tags: soft dom fox mulder, fox mulder the top of every girl's dreams, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, sickfic, sick reader, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering & sex, plus size reader if you squint, past fox was a little plus size if you ALSO SQUINT!!!!, idiots in love, pet names, smut, pain relief, talking you through it bc he's a nice boy, cross-posted on ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

it was twisted, the way fox was turned on by you being sick. it checked every fantasy in his head off the list and you didn't even know.

by the time you got off work last night, you felt the brain fog rolling in, and you came straight to fox’s place instead of your own- and he was more than happy to oblige you. he wanted to set you up in his bed, but you refused, so he made you a little home on his couch, fixed with his good pillows and the blanket you designated as your own months ago. the man had been itching to come home all day. his brain was so out of the loop, in fact, that he handed dana a case report only half completed, with sentences stopping midway through. his partner had to force him out of the office just so he didn’t screw anything else up, but he couldn’t care less, because he was on his way home to his girl. he even went to the store to get you ginger ale and animal crackers, because he knows that’s your favorite remedy. and god, if you weren't everything he’d been dreaming of since he left you last.

you were splayed out on his couch beneath a blanket, coughing up a storm. your nose was red and irritated from blowing it into so many tissues, lips swollen from all the chapstick and chewing; a glassy, sleepy look glazed over your eyes, and your skin paled everywhere but your cheeks, which were flushed in a pretty little smear across your face. you were in his old academy t-shirt, which left room to breathe- he was a bit bigger back then, lucky for you- and a little pair of boxers that were hiked up your thighs from sitting in them all day. you were the vision he couldn’t have conjured even if he tried. he wished that they could make a calendar of just you, looking like this, for every month until he died. but above all, your voice was the part that truly drove him up the wall. you didn’t think of the raspiness as much more than grating, but to him? gruff, weak, gentle, needy, undeniably brutally irrefutably hot- he had a thesaurus written just to put it to words. every word that fell from your lethargic lips was like music to his ears; he could listen to your stuffy breathing forever.

fox had been taking care of you, despite your protests to leave you be. you didn't want to get him sick, but he didn't care. he insisted on keeping you company and doing mindless work at his living room desk until you felt like getting back into the world. that was another thing. seeing you helpless and dependent on him, needing him to feel better… he loved that. he loved spoiling you, feeding you, treating you like a princess. that's what you were to him. there was so much in his life that was out of his control, that he couldn’t protect, but you were the one constant thing he could keep safe. the one thing he could selfishly keep. there was no chance he was going to give that up so easily, not when you were catering to his urges so wonderfully.

it was getting late, but you'd slept all day, so the exhaustion behind your eyes was keeping you awake. overtired and restless, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't get comfortable. the man heard rustling from the couch and turned in his desk chair, a serene smile on his face. he noticed you shifting awkwardly and came to the rescue.

"what is it, baby?"

you ceased trying to rearrange the contents of the couch and let yourself flop against the pillows, huffing in aggravation. "ugh, nothing. just can't get comfy."

"let me help you," fox urged. he rose from his chair and stalked over, kneeling dutifully at the couch's edge to help you adjust the pillows behind your head and beneath your legs. "better?"

"mhm. thank you."

"of course. how’re you feeling?"

"not good," you pouted, voice thick with strain, "my head is killing me, and my stomach is aching. and my nose and throat, too… i took some medicine not too long ago, but it’s taking forever to kick in… ugh. you know i hate being sick."

that childish pout had his stomach churning. he knew this wasn't about him, and you needed rest, but he also couldn't ignore how enticing you looked, all innocent and sleepy on his couch. how you trailed off between thoughts, working through the sick haze in your head. he leaned over a bit to rest his hands on your lower abdomen, pressing the heels of his palms against your belly softly. you hummed at the touch, and he had to force his eyes not to roll back.

"what can i do to make you feel better?"

"can..." you trailed off. "maybe you could cuddle me?"

"i'd love to."

the man climbed onto the couch without a thought, allowing his body to mold to how yours curved. you felt his strong chest rising and falling against your back, the constancy soothing as he draped his arm over your side, letting his rough hands drift slowly back down to your tummy. fox pressed a few lazy kisses behind your ears, causing the hair on your arms to stand up stiff. his lips were always warm, but with your skin burning up as it was, they felt frigid.

"too cold?"

"mm-mm," you hummed. maybe they were, but you weren’t going to jeopardize him stopping.

fox was starting to disregard his better judgment as he tucked himself into you, feeling the feverish heat of your back. he was more attuned to the motions you made than his thoughts. the way your hands, so soft, just a touch smaller than his own, laid safely atop his wrists; how when he rubbed slow circles against your aching stomach, you made a little noise that was something heavenly, both hum and sigh; how your left foot ran up and down your right leg, feeling the fuzzy fabric of the blanket wedged between. he was so lost in how good it felt to be wanted that it was crossing over into obsession. he wanted every square inch of you to need his attention. he wanted to touch every spot that felt sick and nurse you back to life- to have it engrained in your head that only he could make it feel better, and no one else.

so engrossed in his urges, fox kissed a little more, and what started as innocent turned urgent. he sucked softly behind your ear, nipping relentlessly on that sensitive spot you had. you began to pant, feeling the fever chills leave and a different kind of warmth roll over you. you pushed your hips into his hands, trying not to squirm and failing miserably.

"oh, god," you covered your face with your hands. “fox…”

fox’s low laugh rumbled against your shoulder blades. the man relished in your inability to resist. his fingers began to travel down to your boxers, and he tucked his hand right below the waistband. he put pressure right against your heat and you buried your face as best as possible into the couch cushion, letting out a helpless whine.

"feels good, right, baby?"

"a-ah," you hiccuped.

"m'just gonna touch it, that's all,”

"but-"

"i can make you feel so much better," he kissed your ear, "make all those aches go away so fast, baby. can i?”

"please," you whispered.

he reached down and dragged his fingers along the fabric separating him from what he wanted, feeling the wetness beneath. his touch was feather-light, and as he gently wriggled his fingers beneath the cotton, you squeezed your eyes shut and scratched softly at the knuckles of his hand still on your waist. you were struggling to do anything other than lie there, but he didn’t need a thing from you anyway. eagerly, you felt his steady fingers brush against your entrance, and his lips parted hungrily at how slick you were.

"god, you're so easy, aren’t you?"

fox dipped two fingers inside you, testing the waters. when your hips rocked back into his, he couldn’t bite back the greedy smile that overtook his face. impatient, he pushed them deeper, feeling the familiar pressure of you squeezing around his hand. you licked your chapped lips, feeling a knot tying itself in your tummy where he worked his fingers inside you. he’d been away a lot recently, so much so that this was a reminder of just how long his fingers truly were.

"mm, now how’s that, sweetheart?"

"it’s… good," you drawled.

"you like it when i touch you like this, don't you? y’like how my fingers feel?"

you turned your head to look down at where his wrist disappeared beneath your boxers, and you keeled back against the pillow, meeting his broad shoulder. you shuddered in pleasure, and he craned his neck over to lock you in a kiss, feeling possessive like never before. he tasted the minty vicks above your lip and moaned right into your mouth.

"my poor, sick girl… just need me, don't you, baby? oh, you just want me to make it feel better, i know."

you practically melted into the couch as he buried his fingers between your hips. skillfully, he maneuvered you onto your back and crawled up and over so you could lay flat; he anchored his arm right over your head so he could stare down and watch the bliss reach your rosy face, all the while never taking his hand away. once you started breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers, he pulled them out, dragging his slick fingertips across your stomach, leaving shiny streaks behind. when you groaned at the loss, he clicked his tongue.

"no whining, angel. i'm not done. i'm gonna take good care of you."

you watched through spinning vision as he pushed down the couch, crawling low until he could lean over your hips. then, with his big palms stationed between your thighs, he spread you wide, ogling your plush pink folds.

"you're so pretty, baby. my pretty girl."

he pressed a few kisses on the mound just above where you ached, sending shocks up to the tips of your hair. then, he dipped his tongue right inside. he was too needy to start with kitten licks, so instead he swirled around, curling his tongue like a hook, big button nose rubbing against your clit as he breathed you like air. you were officially somewhere new, somewhere out of your own mind; his tongue was so long it could've been one of his god-given fingers, so warm inside you, so deep you couldn't see straight.

"mmm- god- i love you.”

your toes curled as he moaned all kinds of sweet nothings into you, feeling the soundwaves rolling against your walls. just when his tongue had you going, he moved up to your clit and began sucking so hard you started seeing stars. you clamped your thighs around his head and felt his strong, rough hands grip the chub on them hard, fingertips digging enough to leave moon-shaped bruises. you tugged on his hair, unable to do anything but feel him against you and try not to slip away. but there was no stopping the way you floated in limbo, surrounded by the way he made you feel.

"fuck, baby, look at you," he growled between your hips. "c’mon. let me hear that scratchy little voice of yours."

"oh my god," you moaned, "oh, y-you... i... fox,"

"fuck, that's it. is it good, love, am i good?"

"you're so good! so…s-so good…fuck!" you fought not to trail off, but thinking was hard enough as it is.

“that’s my job, sweetheart.”

he kept himself there, getting off on the way you bucked your hips against his jaw. it didn’t take much longer for the burning in your stomach to grow unbearable, and through trembling little spasms confined by his stronghold on your waist, you unraveled right on his tongue. he came up for air with milky lips after working it out of you for a minute, pressing wet kisses all up your stomach and chest. you felt so dirty as you smiled down at the sheen trail of cum prints in the shape of his pretty lips.

“good girl. did that help?"

"mhm," you heaved, head spinning. “need…”

"what? what is it?"

"i- oh..."

"use your words, princess. words."

"c-can you- you..."

he knew what you wanted. he saw it in the pathetic way you glanced from your hips to his, too worked up to get it out. he chuckled in a way that sent chills up your legs and said, "awh, baby. you want me to fuck you now?"

you bit your lip and bucked your hips in the air. he lodged his leg between your thigh with a smirk and you pressed yourself against it, grinding on the worn fabric of his sweatpants. he felt a wet patch soaking through to his skin, and he twitched in anticipation. you batted your eyelashes and let out a raspy little noise, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt while you moved. and when a sniffle interrupted your humming, it drove him right over the edge.

"fuck. you’re so cute, you little tease.”

he shimmied his sweatpants down in an instant and wasted no time, groaning gutterally as he pushed in and bottomed out. you were hot around him, pulsing like a steady heartbeat.

"fuck, baby. never gets old,” he swooned, pressing a gentle kiss to your chin.

he began to thrust in and out, hips rolling religiously into the curve of your legs. you clung to his shoulders and tugged him down so he was stuck against your neck, breath hot. he began to fuck you faster, pressing starving kisses to your collarbone, and you arched your back, gasping for a solid breath.

"oh my god!"

"god, you’re so tight," he growled, “been saving it all up for me, huh? missed me bad, i can tell,”

"mm… fox!”

"you like it when i fuck you like this? right on the couch, where anybody could see in that window? say it, baby,”

"i love it," you croaked, gathering the little tufts of overgrown hair at the nape of fox’s neck and tugging them in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself. he tipped his head back into your touch and whined, and you gave a dizzy, darling smile.

"god, i love you. i love you, i love you, i fucking love you," he praised, timing every confession with a thrust of his hips.

all you could manage was a distracted, "m-me... too... ah!"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he uprighted himself and yanked you by the love handles, dragging you down the couch like a doll. he clawed at your hips, leaving red marks he’d have to soothe later. fox snapped harder and harder, losing control but not caring at all; you let him take you in his hands, surrendering until you couldn't take anymore, and suddenly the knot in your stomach burst. you shivered and writhed all around, whispering his name like a strangled prayer as your hands searched for something to squeeze. he leaned down so you could grab his biceps, and you scratched at them like a cat, a string of lewd things falling from your tired mouth. he came undone as you clenched around him, and his warmth in your tummy was so thick you felt like you could feel it in your throat.

"so good, baby, jesus christ," fox wheezed. "you sound so pretty when you’re sick. can’t help myself."

you were nearly unresponsive. your head had never spun the way it did now, and your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, along with your throat. you couldn't form any words, all you could do was claw at his arms and tremble, face stuck in a permanent state of bliss.

"feeling any better?" fox pressed little kisses to your chin and neck and eyes, and he traced shapes on your stomach to wake you up. "come on, princess, open your eyes. come back to me.” when you smiled and sighed, letting out an embarrassed giggle, he cooed, "there she is, my pretty girl."

"mhm."

"still feel bad?"

you shook your head sweetly, eyes drooping. "nuh-uh."

his heart swelled and he just wanted to eat you alive, so he did the next best thing. he leaned down and kissed your swollen lips with a softness he abandoned just minutes ago, swiping his tongue against your lips and all over your face. he kissed you with all the maneuvers of love he could muster, and you hummed against his mouth, pulling on his hair to hear those pretty little sounds again.

"you’ve got me so whipped, sweetheart," he purred between kisses, "just wanna take care of you."

"you're so good at it," you blushed.

"i do what i can."

he kissed and kissed and kissed you into the couch, and all that kissing got heated, and one thing led to another because the two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves. and the next day, he woke up as sick as you. who saw that coming?

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder smut #x files smut #smut and fluff #plus size hehehehhe

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poppylovestowrite · 6 months ago

Note

Hello, Poppy. I don't know if you are still taking requests, but if you are, would you mind writing a Karma x female reader who struggles to fall asleep when stressed?

2 AM | Karma Akabane x Reader

Yes, I'm still taking requests. I appreciate everyone being patient with my updates <3

The room was a mess, but you didn't care. Clothes were thrown all across the floor, books teetered on the edge of your desk, and an empty cup of coffee grew a sad little colony of mould in the corner. Your room had been like this for weeks now, but it felt heavier somehow. Like the weight of the world had shifted and decided to settle on your shoulders.

Your room wasn't always like this. Sure, you weren't the most organized person, but you at least had the decency to leave most of your clothes off the floor so you could see where you were walking. What drove you to this point was school. God, how much you've grown to despise school. You thought you could manage and for the first year of Kunugigaoka wasn't all too bad. But now here you are in your third year, close to possibly a mental breakdown. Geez, what happened to the girl who can do it all without breaking a sweat? Because you could really use her right now.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, the blue light of your phone casting a cold glow on your skin. Your eyes were glued to the screen, scrolling through mindless posts, hoping something would distract you enough to feel tired. Nothing worked though.

Soon, you found yourself tapping on the contact list.

Your thumb hovered over Karma's name in your contact list. The two of you had been dating for a couple of months now, and you had learned to rely on his calming presence during your moments of stress, even long before the two of you started dating. But was it too late to call? Would he be annoyed? You glanced at the clock. 2 AM. The numbers stared back at you, unrelenting. You eventually sighed and hit the call button. It rang once, twice, three times, and you were about to hang up when he answered.

"Hey, you okay?" Karma's voice was groggy with sleep, but the concern was clear.

He sounded concerned because there could only be one reason you were calling this late into the night

"Yeah, I just can't... I can't sleep," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What's keeping you up?" He sounded more awake now. You could imagine his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes blinking to adjust to the sudden alertness. The mental image was rather cute and it almost made you smile.

"Everything," you replied with a small grimace. "Just... stress, you know?"

He did know. It's one of the reasons you had to stop seeing him so often. Whenever Karma asked you if you were free during the weekend, you would blow him off, telling him you were busy working on an assignment, studying for an upcoming test, or just about anything. It made you feel shitty whenever you had to blow him off.

"How about we meet at the park?" Karma suggested, his voice clearer now, the sleepiness gone. "It's a nice night tonight. Maybe the quiet will help you relax."

The park was your favourite place to go when you needed to think, to get away from the noise and the people. You had told him about it once, how the swings squeaked in the silence and the moon cast strange shadows that made you feel like a child again.

"Okay," you agreed, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Give me twenty minutes?"

"I'll be waiting."

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of dew and the faint smell of blooming flowers. The world was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant hum of a car and the occasional hoot of an owl. Already you were starting to feel a bit better. The peaceful night was a stark contrast to the mess in your brain.

When you reached the park, Karma was already there, sitting on the bench you had graffitied together last summer. He looked up as you approached, his eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

"Hey, you look great." Karma grinned cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. "You're such a charmer."

Karma chuckles and hands you a water bottle he bought from a convenience store when he was coming to meet you here.

"Here," he said, holding out a water bottle. "You need to hydrate."

You arched your eyebrows. "How did you know?"

"You've been living on coffee and junk food lately," Karma said, trying not to come off as if he was judging you. "Thought you could use something better."

Before you could argue, he twisted the cap off and handed it to you. You sighed and took a sip, the cool liquid sliding down your throat, soothing the dryness that had built up from your lack of care. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the breeze. You took another sip of water, feeling the stress slowly seep out of you. It also helped that Karma let you vent to him for about thirty minutes. He would listen quietly and nod along whenever he could. You vented about school, your teachers, your parents who didn't give a shit about you and you vented about the smallest things that don't affect your day-to-day life but you just had to let it out.

"... and she never gave me back my favourite pen. Can you believe her?" You huffed as you lifted your hands up, tempted to strangle someone.

Karma chuckles and puts an arm around you in an attempt to calm you down, which actually works. "Just steal one of her pens."

"I'm not a thief," you frowned at your boyfriend.

"Fine. I'll do it myself."

You playfully pinched his cheek. "Behave."

Even if you would prefer it if Karma quit doing small crimes for you (because he had in the past) you still couldn't help but feel your heart flutter, knowing there is nothing stopping him from doing anything for you.

You sighed quietly and pressed your back further against the bench.

"When was the last time you've gotten a good night's sleep?" Karma asks. He noticed the bags in your eyes the second he saw you but didn't want to comment on your sleep schedule until you finished venting to him.

You snorted humorlessly. "Who knows?"

Karma rarely lets his emotions show. He loved to play the whole bad-boy-who-doesn't-give-a-shit-about-anyone-persona. So, when you looked at how concerned he was over you, you started to feel a twinge of guilt. It was a rare sight, one you had only glimpsed a handful of times since you both started dating. It made you feel both cared for and guilty.

"I'm sorry." You said solemnly. "But you don't have to worry about me." You said, trying to downplay your stress.

Karma shakes his head. "Well, I am. You're important to me. You know how you hate whenever I get into petty fights and seeing me get all those cuts and bruises? Well, I hate seeing you like this." The redhead pauses, letting his words sink in. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

Your heart swelled with affection. It wasn't just the fact that he was here, at two in the morning, listening to your rant about the mundane details of your life. It was the way he cared and wanted to look after you. Karma was one of the very few good people in your life. He is the last person you want to disappoint or upset.

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in.

"I'll try taking better care of myself." You said strongly. "I promise."

"You can start by drinking more water. Start off small."

You smiled and for the first time in a while, Karma saw your eyes sparkle. "Okay." You leaned in and rested your head against his shoulder. Karma pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around you like a warm blanket. Suddenly, all your worries didn't seem as daunting anymore, at least, not at the moment.

And because of how much lighter you felt compared to earlier, you felt your eyelids growing heavier and heavier. In the back of your mind, you did say that it was best to get home now, but you told yourself that you could shut your eyes for a few minutes.

Karma felt better after hearing your promise. He wasn't sure if the promise would hold up in the long run, but he knew he would be there to remind you of what you both talked about tonight.

#assassination classroom #anon ask #karma akabane #romance #karma x reader #ass class #anime #reader insert #self care

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sundrop-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Ghosting

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you.

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

Word Count: 3,700

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic contains major spoilers for the film - so if you haven't watched it yet and you're just here for Josh Hutcherson being sad and beautiful (and if you want to watch the film unspoiled) be warned; this fic does use Y/N; this fic is almost pure angst - the beginning is fluffy, but that only exists to make the angst hurt more; this fic does not have a happy ending; hurt, no comfort; this fic has mentions of Mike's past traumas and him having symptoms of PTSD; the reader is a mother figure to Abby; Mike refers to the reader as his 'wife' (in his mind, not in dialogue); Mike is in love with the reader (and it's implied that she knows this/can sense his feelings) but he doesn't get a chance to actually confess to her and they aren't in a romantic relationship at any point during this fic; (uh, kind of spoiler for the fic but this was in the prompt/request) - major character death: the reader character dies after being stabbed by Springtrap/William Afton/The Yellow Rabbit (gotta love fnaf - when a character has that many names); mentions of blood; descriptions of violence - descriptions of the fight between Afton and Mike, descriptions of the reader being stabbed by Afton; Abby is there to witness the reader's death; idk what the other warnings are aside from major angst - this will be an emotional gut punch. Anyway, please enjoy it lmao.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from the song Ghosting by Mother Mother. I was listening to different songs trying to pick a title, and I really like how this one fits. How their romantic love was like a ghost in their lives - not discussed, but felt between the both of them, and after she's gone, she becomes a ghost in his life.

...

Mike woke up to the smell of pancakes.

Typically, mornings were his least favorite time of day. Seeing as he was the kind of person who didn’t sleep well, didn’t sleep at all, or found himself consumed by nightmares when he did - most mornings, he was too tired to comprehend the world around him. Mornings were a chaotic mess for him as he tried to pull himself back from the brink of insanity while operating his sluggish body with far too little energy until he got some coffee into his system. He came to resent mornings, as for him, they existed only in a dreadful haze.

And he rarely ate a proper breakfast because of it. Most of the time, his ‘breakfast’ consisted of a large cup of coffee and a few pieces of Eggo waffle that he would snag off of Abby’s plate going out the door as he scolded her for not finishing it all.

The second that the pleasant smell of freshly cooked food reached his nose, his stomach growled.

Through the sleepy fog of his brain, hearing voices - multiple voices - coming from down the hallway, he realized that it wasn’t just Abby and some muffled cartoon characters from the TV.

“Which one?” Abby posed, her voice bright and curious as ever.

“Personally… I like the red sweater. It matches the red laces in the shoes you picked,” You replied, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the sizzling of the pan.

You were helping her pick out her clothes. Abby would have never wanted Mike’s help on the subject. So often she scoffed at him if he suggested that he could help her put her hair in a ponytail or if he told her that she should put on a jacket if it was cold outside. But she asked you for your advice about clothes because she admired you. She thought you were pretty, as she had told Mike on multiple occasions (not so subtly hinting that he should date you).

Mike heard footsteps thundering down the hallway as Abby rushed to her room to get dressed, likely carting along the clothes you had helped to pick. He distantly wondered how you had gotten into the house before he was even awake.

And then, he remembered - a few weeks ago, he had given you a key to his place.

It was something that had come after he had accidentally locked his own set of keys in the car, his mind jumbled and forgetful after not having much sleep the night before. And with the evening ticking on and the takeout you had picked up for the three of you quickly getting cold in your hands (everyone eager to simply get into the house and eat) - Mike had been hit with the realization that any solutions to unlock the car - the spare key, a metal coat hanger, a phone to call a mechanic - were all locked in the house.

So he had hoisted Abby in through her bedroom window (after scolding her for not locking it) and gotten her to unlock the front door. And shortly after that, he had given you a house key, because generally, you were better with things like that.

You were much more organized - your mind a clear, calm palace compared to the chaos that Mike often found himself swamped in. You were someone who worked incredibly well under stress, and that was why Mike valued you so much in his life. Right from a childhood where the two of you had pulled pranks together and he had been copying your homework, to the time he had leaned on you during the initial stress of Garett’s disappearance - up until now. When he was a messy, disorganized adult who still needed you far more than he was ever willing to admit.

It was just one of the many reasons he admired you so much. You took care of him in ways he couldn’t even put into words.

He smiled to himself as he heard more of your chatter with Abby. Previously, he had remarked that the key was for ‘emergencies only’ - but he couldn’t bring himself to care all too much about the breach of that rule as he tumbled out of bed. Especially when the smell of bacon also reached his nose as he walked to the bathroom.

It was when he was pulling on his pants that he glanced at the clock and realized he was already running on the late side. Not too late yet, but he had to put some urgency in his step. He had somehow forgotten to set his alarm, today of all days, when he would be meeting with a career counselor after the disastrous incident that got him fired from the mall.

He rushed down the hallway struggling with his tie, bringing his usual air of chaos with him. His heart instantly warmed at the sight of you and Abby - you had her sitting at the table, somehow so much more polite and cooperative for you, with a glass of juice beside her plate while you scooped freshly made pancakes onto it.

“You know, usually when most people break and enter, they don’t make breakfast,” Mike commented, his voice cool and jovial as he grew increasingly frustrated with his tie.

He thought he was forming the knot correctly, but it kept falling loose in his hands, causing a deep crease across his brows as he frowned at the fabric.

You giggled at this - both at his words and at his obvious struggle. You put the pan on the counter as you walked toward him, leaving Abby to pick up the bottle of syrup and begin thoroughly drowning her pancakes while you weren’t looking. You knocked Mike’s hands away in that wordless kind of care and began calmly tying his tie.

“Well, I considered going the traditional route, but there’s nothing worth stealing here.” You remarked, playing off the banter that was only built between the two of you after years of friendship. “Plus, The Breakfast Burglar has such a nice ring to it.”

“That makes it sound like you steal people’s breakfast.” Abby giggled.

“I would, if certain little girls didn’t drown their pancakes in syrup.” You replied, not bothering to look over your shoulder at her to know what she was doing. “That’s enough, Abs.”

She rolled her eyes harshly at this, but put the bottle of syrup down and picked up her knife and fork.

Mike grinned widely at this. You were more like a mom to her than their own mother ever was. And the fact that you knew her so well and took care of her without question always brought him joy.

His smile only widened when you smoothed a warm hand down the front of his chest, and he looked down to see a perfectly neat knot in the front of his tie. He felt a tingling swarm of butterflies in his stomach at your touch - something that threatened to spread through him and turn him into a dizzy, lovesick fool. Urgently, he needed to distract himself with something else.

His eyes shifted over to the side table, and he realized that his keys weren’t where he usually threw them down when he got home.

“Have you seen my-?”

Once again, you were two steps ahead of him. More organized than him.

“Keys.” You said, turning around to the counter and holding the key ring up on your fingers. “Your resume, formatted and printed.” You held up a folder that contained this as well. “Your wallet, and breakfast burrito.”

You gathered up his wallet and a warm bundle wrapped in tinfoil - his breakfast. The small notion of caring, the fact that you thought ahead to make something he could eat while rushing out the door - it caused that dangerous tingle to overtake his stomach once again. As you crossed the room and placed all the items in his hands, he had the intense urge to lean over and kiss you - he knew the domesticity was crippling.

You had been his best friend for years, you had helped him take care of Abby for as long as the little girl could remember. You felt more like a wife to him than anybody else ever would.

And yet, you had absolutely no clue how he felt about you. It would have felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to lean over and kiss you goodbye before leaving - just like a husband would do with his wife. But the two of you weren’t married. You weren’t even dating. You took care of him because you were his best friend. Because you had always taken care of him the way a best friend should.

“What would I do without you?” He said, knowing that the pure fondness in his voice could have easily given him away - if he didn’t talk to you like that all the time.

“Hmm… probably run around naked and starving,” You chuckled, shrugging as you walked back over to Abby and sat down beside her at the table. “Now get going. I’ll take Abby to school.”

“Have a good day, Abs.” Mike said, wishing his sister well - only to receive a mindless nod in reply before she went back to chatting with you about something, excitedly telling you a story involving one of her imaginary friends while you watched her with absolutely rapt attention.

He moved toward the door, but he found himself caught up in the sight of you. You were a hero in their little world as you rushed to save one of Abby’s drawings from some syrup that dripped off her plate. When you complimented the picture, she glowed with a smile he hadn’t seen in days.

That was a huge part of it, too. The love he felt for you that grew more agonizing each day. You brought out all the best parts of Abby, as well as keeping Mike himself from going truly insane.

For a single moment, he wondered if he should tell you. He wondered if he should just blurt out the words before running out the door, leaving you to simmer in it. Giving you time to think about it - to yell at him about it later.

It hovered on his tongue.

I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years.

But when you looked over and saw him still standing by the door, he locked eyes with you, and suddenly it was gone again, swallowed up inside of him like a nasty ache that would live there forever.

“Go, Mike! You’re gonna be late!” You said, your voice edging with casual laughter.

You picked up one of the couch cushions and swatted him with it as you walked by to get Abby a paper towel from the kitchen.

No. He would tell you some other time.

Perhaps he wouldn’t work up the courage to tell you at all.

…

He was going to die. He was going to be killed.

And he wasn’t going to get the chance to tell you that he was in love with you.

Strangely enough, that was the one thing Mike was thinking about as he laid on the cold, dirty floor of Freddy Fazbear’s condemned pizzeria. His stomach burned with searing pain as he received another kick from the large, intimidating monster that he knew only as the Yellow Rabbit.

He was going to die. He wouldn’t get to tell you how he felt. He would never get to see you ever again.

He was going to save Abby. He was going to make sure that she got out of here, escaped somehow. And you would take care of her. That thought was a singular comfort to him as he felt one of his ribs crack from the metal (poorly disguised by the foam and fabric around the edges of the suit) colliding with his torso.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “I killed your brother, now I get to kill you. Symmetry, my friend!”

“Get away from him!”

Mike almost thought that the intense pain had caused him to hallucinate, or that he had hit his head on the floor hard when he had been thrown down - it couldn’t actually be you.

But he heard your voice, fierce and fiery as ever, defending him as you had so many times before. He struggled to get his head up to look, but he caught a glimpse of the Yellow Rabbit as the strange animal collapsed.

You had picked up one of the chairs, and brought it down over the Rabbit’s head, perfectly imitating something that would have been on Monday Night Raw. Except this was pure wood, not a collapsing chair, and all the pieces that splintered and fell in front of Mike as the Rabbit collapsed were because of the pure force of your hit. The fury of which you defended him and his life.

“Y/N!” Abby yelled your name from across the room.

She rushed into your arms as you stepped over the Rabbit’s prone body, and you swept her into a tight hug.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?” You rushed to ask, brushing her hair out of her face to inspect for any injuries.

“I’m fine.” Abby told you. “Mike-” She then turned to her brother, frantic, and pulled away from you to fall to her knees by his side.

“Mike, what the hell is going on?” You asked, on your knees at his side just as quickly.

You turned him over on his back, inspecting him for injuries now - definitely not liking what you found.

Abby held his hand and he grasped it right back, his head still dizzy from the thorough ass-kicking he had just experienced.

You gasped when you saw blood leaking through his shirt. He grunted in pain when you pressed your hand into the wound, clearly trying to lessen that bleeding.

“What - what are you doing here?” He croaked out.

As much as he was thankful for you swooping in and saving him, he wished that you were safe somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

“Abby left her jacket in my car, and when I went to return it, I saw your Aunt Jane passed out on the floor, and - and, I just had a bad feeling.” You rushed to explain. “Somehow, I figured you’d be here.”

Mike hadn’t exactly told you the details of what was going on.

As close as the two of you were, he wasn’t sure if you would be entirely receptive to the concept of Abby being ‘friends’ with robots that were controlled by ghost children, and Mike somehow feeling connected to his own missing… dead brother by being in this place. He had simply told you that his new job was a night shift at a creepy old abandoned pizza place.

But of course, you were two steps ahead of him. As always.

You pulled back your hand to inspect the bleeding, and Mike groaned again.

“Should I call an ambulance?” You asked, and Mike shook his head furiously.

“No, we have to-”

We have to leave. You have to leave. You have to get Abby out of here, to safety.

All of those words dissolved on his tongue as he watched with utter shock. He wanted to scream as a big yellow hand clasped onto your shoulder from behind, and soon, a pair of large rabbit ears rose up from the floor.

He wasn’t down for the count.

Before he could speak, before he could move, Mike’s throat became choked as he saw your expression shift from the kind concern that you had worn for him many times - to pain. A brutal shock of your own.

The Rabbit had shoved his knife into your back.

A bright pool of red began to form in the middle of your shirt as the tip of the knife just barely poked through the center of your chest.

“No!” Mike shouted, rushing to sit up despite the pain screaming in his body.

He put a shaking hand to the middle of your chest as though it mattered, as though he could save you from this. He hated how warm your blood felt underneath his fingers.

Abby let out a scream beside him. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he felt a pang of guilt that she had to see this. That she would spend the rest of her life trying to get over this.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “It always hurts more when you love them!”

The Rabbit let out a brutal laugh and then yanked his knife from your back, and you released a sharp breath as the Rabbit shoved you toward Mike, causing you to collapse into his lap in a bloody heap.

Somewhere far away, in another world, Mike heard Vanessa shouting from the doorway. Maybe he felt some sense of relief, thinking she would shoot the Rabbit down and this would all be over. But as the Rabbit’s attention was drawn away from him, he turned to where you were draped across his lap, the small pool of red on your shirt now soaked into a large puddle as you sputtered and some of that harsh bright red blood came out the corner of your lips.

“Mike-” You choked out, reaching for him.

“Tell me what to do,” Mike choked out.

His mind was miserably blank. He felt your fingers clutching at his bicep, like he held the key to saving you, like he could restore your life - but his mind was screaming and his chest collapsed in on itself.

You were always the one that guided him. He didn’t have an idea if you didn’t plant it in his head first.

“Y/N,” Abby sobbed.

“It-it’s okay.” You told her, struggling, gurgling, choking on your own blood. You took your grip off Mike, extending the hand weakly to her, and she took it. “It’s g-gonna be okay.”

She let out another harsh sob, and Mike felt his lungs fill with stone.

“Tell me what to do,” He said desperately, not realizing how thick his own voice was, how close he was to breaking down. He ran a trembling hand over your face, brushing away some stray hairs - he hated how cold you felt to his touch. “Please, tell me what to do.”

He thought you might suggest some first aid. An ambulance. Tell him where your car was so he could carry you there, cart you away, get you to safety.

“You-re g-gonna take c-care of her-r.” You told him, shifting your eyes distinctly from him toward Abby, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re gon-na m-make it ok-ay.”

“Y/N.” Abby cried, thick tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Abby. You’re gonna b-be s-strong.” You grinned at her - your teeth were covered in blood, and it looked as menacing as it did fond. “You’re g-gonna be good for-r M-Mike, right? My little a-artist.”

Abby nodded, more tears leaking from her eyes.

And then, with some gears turning in her head, these words seemingly having triggered some line of thought, she looked up and spotted something across the room. She muttered something about the drawings and leapt up before Mike could stop her. He didn’t have the strength to chase her - he only hoped that she was leaving, escaping while the others were distracted.

When he looked back down at you, your face was falling more limp, and your shirt was somehow even more soaked in blood. His jeans were wet, and he couldn’t even process why. He pressed a hand to the front of your shirt, trying to cover the wound as you had done with him - his muscles shook even harder when blood gushed out between his fingers and seemed to leak from you harder, as if to spite him.

“Y/N,” He sobbed, leaning down. He cradled the back of your head and touched your forehead against his own.

For a moment, he dreamed about putting his lips against your own and bringing you back to life with a kiss. Like some stupid fairytale.

“Y/N, I-”

I love you.

“I - I know.” You croaked quietly, cutting him off. “D-don’t w-waste it on me now-w.”

He felt the puff of your last breath as it expelled out against his cheek - he felt you go completely limp in his arms.

“No-” He choked the word off in his throat, swallowing down sobs.

No.

He held you tighter against him, and feeling how cold you were, he let out a shuddering howl of a sob. He clasped your lifeless body against his chest - somehow believing that he could use the power of his grief to inject more life back into you.

The rest of it was a blur. The deadly snap of springlocks, Vanessa shouting at him to abandon you - to abandon your body as the building collapsed in on itself.

Mike didn’t truly break down until he was scrubbing his blood off your face in the bathroom sink that night. Seeing the red washing down the drain and knowing that it was the last traces of your life he was washing away - that was what truly did it. He collapsed onto the floor and stayed there for hours, sobbing more than he breathed, unable to move.

When his cries finally died down, Abby slowly crept in and asked him how he was feeling. He lied, telling her that he was feeling fine. She raised up a shy hand, offering him one of your sweaters that you had accidentally left on their couch a few days prior.

He thanked her and then finally peeled himself off the floor. He tried to make pancakes and Abby remarked that they weren’t as good as yours. It felt impossible, but her words made him smile. It was a small, dull smile - but it was a smile, nonetheless.

A few days later, when he finally fell asleep for the first time after you had died in his arms, it was with that sweater wrapped around his pillow, wafting your faded smell into his nostrils. It was the first time in years that he didn’t dream about Garett. The dream he had about you was just as haunting.

...

A/N: Also, I don't know if Afton's knife would actually be long enough to go through someone's back and pierce out the front of their chest but - one, it's a cool imagery, and two, the knife looks pretty large when compared to the scale of the Springtrap suit hands. Anyway, I don't actually care all too much if it's accurate or not, I had fun writing this lmao.

#sundrop writes #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #blood tw #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie fanfiction

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iblameashley · 1 year ago

Text

Ghost Falls Silent, Simon Stands

Civilian | Male | Gay

3,800~ words

Content: Hospitalization, recovery, cohabitation, use of 'lad' (gendered language?), nightmares, gay stuff, fluff, happy ending.

Follow up to Something to look forward to

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | Male

!!!SFW!!!

When Simon "Ghost" Riley is injured protecting you, his recovery means a month confined to home - that is, after two weeks of sedation in the base medical wing. Captain Price requests you stay and assist. Through highs and lows, you stand steadfast by Ghost's side. As feelings begin to emerge, Ghost must confront what it means to open his heart some more and whether a future beyond warfare could truly be possible or if he'll continue fighting alone.

Tag List: @a-sleepy-dissapointment

(Thanks to @loneghostwolf for permission to use this image)

You had been sitting outside of Simon's room in the medical wing as Price came along to have a 'talk' with him. You weren't too far from the door, but were close enough to hear Price's deep, commanding voice as he scolded Simon like a father would to a child.

Simon had been protesting his medical leave recommended by the staff. There was rarely an opportunity for them to get the Ghost in for any type of examination, and now that he had been there for a little over two weeks, they were recommending a month of medical leave, and this did not go over well with Simon.

So Price had made a request of you first, asking if you'd be willing to continue to watch over Simon when Price sent him home for recovery. You of course agreed, you'd become rather fond of that lumbering, stoic idiot.

And now here you were, unintentionally eavesdropping on Price and Simon.

“Simon Riley, I swear to God if you fuck this friendship up, I will put a bullet in you myself, you damn muppet!” Price fired back.

“I'm good to go, Price. The wound is healed, I just need a little training to get back into proper form... it shouldn't take more than a couple days at most, sir.” Simon replied, clearly trying to charm his way back into work with his confident tone.

Price was having none of it.

“Absolutely not.” Price shot him down without question. “I can't spare this room much longer, I can't spare Soap or Gaz to watch over your ass for a whole month, and I can't trust you to sit down and relax on base for the next month.” He grumbled with annoyance. “My best option is that wonderful lad out there who, for some reason, has been here for you since you were brought in. No complaints and no problems. He wants to be here, he wants to be your friend, and he wants to watch over you for the next month!”

Price stopped his tongue-lashing long enough to catch his breath, and Simon sat silently for a moment as his brain processed everything.

You of course were sitting in the corridor with a shit-eating grin on your face. Price was likely the only person on Earth who could talk to Simon this way and live, and it tickled you to know that Simon would bend to Price's will if enough pressure was applied.

“Fine.” Simon finally huffed. He surrendered to Price's demand. “But...”

“No 'buts', Simon. He will be accompanying you back to your flat and staying with you for the next month.”

You didn't need to be in the room to know the look Simon had on his face.

“Fine.” He said again in a tempestuous tone.

An image of Simon sitting in the bed with his arms crossed came to mind and you let out a breathy chuckle.

“When will I be discharged into his care?” Simon asked, pulling you from you daydream.

“Seventeen hundred hours, when he's technically finished his work for the day. You'll be loaded into a vehicle together and driven home.” Price explained. “I've already gone ahead and had Soap and Gaz prepare your flat for the two of you, since they had a few hours to spare today. You'll have groceries stocked and beds turned down. Soap may have ate the chocolates meant for the pillows, though.” Price joked.

With nothing more to say, Simon was resigned to his fate.

“Good lad.” Price said before leaving Simon's room. He flashed you a look and smile, “He'll be your problem in a few hours.”

“He always was.” You joked, giving Price a nod as he continued on his way down the corridor.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Day 4

Its been four days. Four.

You woke up to the smell of something burning and a voice cursing form the kitchen in a Manchester accent. Simon. You threw the blankets back and begrudgingly sat up from the small cot Gaz and Soap had placed in the den of Simon's flat for you. It took a moment to gather your thoughts and boot your brain up enough to wander out into the kitchen to see some charcoal – apparently eggs – in the frying pan on the stove. There were some sausages cooking in another pan as well. Simon was limping around the kitchen looking for a solution.

“Little early in the morning to be trying to kill us both, don't ya' think?” You yawn as you walked over to the stove and pulled the pan off, tossing the chunks of eggs into the sink.

“I didn't ask for a babysitter.” Simon grunted. You notice him wince as he reached for something on the top cupboard, and you shake your head.

You drop the burnt pan into the sink and grab a new one, not quite hiding your frustration.

“Then stop acting like a fucking baby.” You shot back with a bit more vitriol than intended. “Think you can manage a cup of coffee for me and some tea for yourself?” You shot a second time, flashing him a tired and irritable look.

“Think so.” He grunted before moving to grab a couple of mugs.

You grabbed a fresh pan and placed it on the burner, turning the heat down and waiting a few minutes before cracking some fresh eggs. This man could dismantle bombs and take on multiple men in hand-to-hand, but was seemingly lost in his own kitchen.

“How do you like your eggs?” You asked, already cooking some sunny-side up eggs for yourself.

“D'innit matter.” Simon said as he worked away to prepare some drinks.

You shrugged and cracked some more eggs into the pan. Sunny-side up all around.

“Why are you so damn stubborn, Si?” You asked, tying to mask the sadness in your voice. You knew why, it was easy to figure out with a man like Simon Riley, but a part of you wanted to hear it from him.

“Don't need anyone to take care of me. Been takin' care of myself long enough.” His voice betrayed his words and you were, of course, unconvinced of his statement.

“Well... I'm here to help while you recover. I already agreed to do the cooking and cleaning while you caught up on paperwork – which was generous of Price to allow – and getting yourself back in shape for deployment.” You remind him, aiming the spatula at him.

Simon took a seat at the kitchen table as the water boiled in the kettle and simply stared at you. You were right, but it would be a cold day in hell before he said it out loud.

By the time the food was ready, Simon had a steaming mug of coffee for you and a tea for himself. You plated the eggs and sausages, as well as some toast you had made.

“Eggs... without a kitchen fire or the fire department. Enjoy.” You winked at him while buttering some toast.

“Thanks.” He mumbled into his tea.

Despite the attitude Simon had been giving you, you knew his gratitude ran deeper than he let on. He did eventually give you a small smile while he ate, which helped lighten your own mood, though you still had twenty-six days to go.

Day 10

You were sitting in the living room with Simon, tapping away at your laptop as you worked well into the evening. You'd fallen behind in your work and decided to spend some time today catching up – and you were almost done as the storm outside really began to rage.

There was a crash of thunder that startled you; Simon looked over and his chest heaved as he silently laughed at you.

“Control... S” You murmured to yourself as you saved your work. Lessons had been learned years ago about this very situation.

“Power's bound to go out soon.” Simon sighed as he closed his book – one you had bought him at the market.

No sooner had those words escaped his lips than the lights flickered.

Then again.

And then died, plunging you both into almost complete darkness, your face illuminated by the dimmed screen of your laptop. Without the sounds of appliances or the TV, you could hear the roar of wind and pattering of the rain on the windows.

“I'll get the candles.” Simon advised as he got up off the couch.

You closed the lid of your laptop and got out your phone, turning on the flashlight and following close behind him. “I'll help.” You volunteered, tossing your laptop aside and jumping from the chair.

Soon his living room was flickering with the warm light from the candles. You sat on the couch next to him silently as the storm continued outside; you'd kill for wi-fi right now.

You pulled the skull throw you had gifted Simon from the back of the couch and wrapped it around you. It wasn't particularly cold, but it was comforting. You didn't have the courage to tell Simon you had a minor, teeny fear of the dark.

“Y'know... this storm reminds me of a camping trip I took when I was a bit younger.” You said, breaking the silence.

Simon simply stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Well, I stupidly dropped my compass and broke it... that should have been the first sign of things to come.” You chuckled as you recalled the memory. “Then of course the storm moved in and drenched me. I ran to cover, totally forgetting that you aren't supposed to take shelter under trees. A bolt of lightening reminded me as it struck several trees nearby.” You exhaled loudly, a smile playing on your face as you remembered just how close a call that experience was. “But because I also happen to have an overactive imagination, and was full of adrenaline and fear already, I could have sworn I saw a pale figure staring at me from the trees. It shrieked like a banshee and I damn near pissed myself. I was a Goddamn mess when I finally made my way back to my friends.” You let out an awkward laugh and looked over to Simon.

“Sounds terrifying.” Simon replied in his usual flat tone, though his eyes did dance with interest as he stared you down. “You're a brave lad to have emerged from that and carried on.”

There was no undertone of sarcasm of teasing in his tone, catching you off guard.

“You have any 'scary' stories?” You asked him, making yourself more comfortable under the throw.

“Aye..." MacTavish's influence seeped through. "...got a real spine tingling one for ya.” Simon nodded.

He leaned in close and lowered his voice. His eyes narrowed and he stared intently at you. “I was once a child.” He deadpanned.

You desperately wanted to keep your composure, but you felt the twitching of your lips as you started to crack. You let out a shaky chuckle before breaking into a full on laughing.

As you wiped the tears from your eyes, you could see Simon sitting back slightly, a tiny smile tugging at his lips in the dim light of the candlelit room.

“You're such a cunt.” You tittered.

Shifting his tone, Simon cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He rumbled alongside the thunder. “...its not so terrible, having you around.” He confessed.

The earnestness of the words surprised you; an admission you could never have predicted Simon to make.

“...and no one will ever believe you if you tell them I said that.”

There is was. You rolled your eyes.

“You're tolerable.” You shurg.

Simon chuckled, enjoying the playful banter between you two in the darkness of his flat. Even if parts of him were screaming to stop opening up to you.

Day 21

You woke up groggy and confused as something slammed hard against the floor. It was coming from Simon's room and you moved as quickly as your heavy body would allow to get out of bed.

Walking down the hallway, you could hear the terrified sounds of Simon's distress. Standing at the doorway, you hesitated; your hand hovering over the door knob. Should you really go in? Simon's room was a bit off-limits since you agreed to watch over him. You had wanted to ensure he had one space to himself.

CRASH!

Something else hit the floor. You sigh and grip the door knob, turning it slowly and pushing the door open cautiously.

“Simon?” You murmured through the crack in the door.

You could see Simon thrashing around in the darkness of his room, unable to wake up from the nightmare that was consuming him. He was murmuring someone's name and pleading. Pleading! Simon!

“Fuck it.” You declared, resigning yourself to whatever fate awaited you.

“Simon.” You say, giving him a firm shake. “Simon!” You say louder.

You opened the door a bit further – enough to walk through – and strode over to his bed. You leaned down close to him, and once again hesitated. You looked around to see his lamp and phone on the floor and a spilled glass of water.

Turning your attention back to Simon, you placed a hand over his damp shoulder.

Simon doesn't wake up, stuck in the depths of his terror.

You muster up the courage to do something you never thought you'd do; yell at Simon Riley.

“SIMON, WAKE THE FUCK UP!” You howl at him.

His eyes snap open and he shoots up in bed; his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, it take him a moment to orient himself.

As his eyes fall on you, and shame creeps into his eyes. You were never supposed to see this. You shouldn't be in here and he shouldn't be this weak in front of you.

You reach out and place your hand on his bicep, giving it a squeeze.

“Are you okay, Simon?” You ask in a soft, concerned voice.

He turns away from you, his chest still heaving but doesn't answer. A bit of ego, but mostly humiliation.

He shrugs your hand off of him and all you do is smile.

“Okay, okay... be that way.” You tease him as you turn to his end table. You pick up the lamp and place it back on the tabletop, then place his phone beside it. “You're safe now.” You speak tenderly to him.

You stand and give him a stare for a moment before leaving his room.

Returning a couple minutes later with a small towel, you kneel down and clean up the spilled water as Simon just sits on his bed.

“You seem calmer now.” You remark as you wad up the towel and toss it to his laundry basket.

“'M fine.” He grumbles.

Liar.

“Alright.” You nod, though he's still not looking at you.

You stand up and sit on his bed, your back to him. You take a deep breath before swivelling yourself around and laying down on the bed beside him.

“...and what are you doing?” Simon rumbles as he feels the weight of your body moving on the mattress.

“What I was asked to do. Take care of you for a month.” You reply bluntly.

You make yourself comfortable beside him, choosing a particularly plump and soft pillow to rest your head on.

“Don't need your help.” Simon protests.

“Sounds like a you problem, Si.” You fire back, pulling your phone from your PJ pocket and unlocking it. “I'm staying, as per Prices request.” You didn't explain that you'd text Price when you left and he'd given you 'orders'.

Simon sits there through seven rounds of solitaire, two crosswords, and a good twenty minutes of scrolling through socials before he finally concedes and lays down beside you. He drapes his arms over his stomach as he stretches out and relaxes; as much as Simon Riley relaxes.

“Don't wanna talk about it.”

You don't look away from your phone.

“Don't have to.” You reply.

“You don't need to know what goes on in my fucked up head because of my fucked up life and job.” He continues.

You like a particularly cute video of a puppy.

“Fair enough. We're all entitled to our secrets.” You nod.

“Did I... say anything?” Simon prods, curious and anxious.

You lower your phone a bit and look over at him. You purse your lips and think about how to respond. So far, you've never lied to Simon, and you don't exactly want to start now.

“Well?” He asks after you hesitate a little too long.

“Yes.” You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“What did I say?” Simon inquires, a bit of horror framing his face.

“I thought you didn't want to talk about it?” The words come out a bit harsher than you intended, and you're already cursing yourself.

“What did I say?” He repeats with annoyance.

You let out a sigh and rest your phone on your chest.

“You were begging.” You reply. You roll your head to the side to look at him. “You were begging for forgiveness and to 'switch places' or something to that extent.” You confess to him, barely managing to choke out the words.

“Fuckin' hell...” Simon grumbles. He stares up at his ceiling. “I....”

“You have terrible taste in people.” He says in an almost teasing tone.

You don't let him finish, “You don't have to say any more, Simon. Not if you don't want to.” You explain. You reach over and tap his abdomen with the back of your hand. “I just want you to know that I don't think any less of you. Never could.”

That elicits a deep laugh from Simon as he shakes his head.

“So I'm told.” You reply, going back to your phone.

“You're really not going to leave, are you?” He asks suddenly.

“What do you mean? Here and now, or before the month is over? Or... ever?” You question him, resting the back of one hand on his body.

“All of the above, 'spose.” He shrugs.

“I'm not leaving. All of the above.” You reply earnestly.

You both fall into a comfortable silence as Simon considers what you've said.

After a half hour or more, Simon hears a thud. Turning to look at you, he notices you've dropped your phone on the floor and are fast asleep on his bed.

You roll over on your side and Simon lets out a low grunt, feigning annoyance – though he's not sure why – before he sighs and grabs the blanket and pulls it over you.

He rolls over so his back is to you and closes his eyes. Somehow your presence here relaxes him enough to let him get a couple hours of sleep.

Day 30

Maybe domestic life was for you after all. It had been a full month since Price had made his request and here you were; In Simon's kitchen and cooking him one last breakfast before you packed up and returned to your own flat.

Simon had spent most of the early morning in his room just laying on his bed before eventually rolling out and jumping in the shower.

As you finished preparing the large, artery-clogging breakfast of sausages, eggs, hash browns, pancakes and bacon, Simon finally emerged in gym shorts and a tank top.

“Ready to kick my arse out?” You asked, suppressing the tinge of sadness that welled inside you. You really did like being here this last month, though it was difficult to tell if he felt the same way.

Simon huffed and made his way to the table where a tea – just the way he likes it – and took a seat, staring at the back of your head.

He took a sip and thought it over for a moment. “Y've been a goddamn nag.” He finally said, a smile on his face.

“All a part of the job!” You fired back, turning to give him a wide grin.

“Still no idea how Price talked you into it.” Simon mused, looking away.

You pate the mountain of food for the both of you and join Simon at the table. You lean back in your chair and pick up a piece of bacon, eyeing it before taking a bite.

“Didn't take much, to be honest.” You shrug.

Simon defaulted to his usual gruff grunt, “Guess if hasn't been entirely unpleasant to have you around.” He confessed. He couldn't help but fight his own happiness.

“Someone had to make sure you didn't burn the place down.” You tease. "And we nipped that in the bud on day four."

Simon digs into the breakfast you've made for him, silently chewing away and ignoring your joke.

You sipped at your coffee and ate your breakfast as well.

This was a moment that seemed to stretch on for a while, neither of you wanting to admit how the last month truly affected you.

“Y'know...” You say, breaking the silence. “We never did see that movie.” You remind him. Through everything that's happened since Simon was injured, neither of you actually ended up dragging the other to that stupid movie.

You give a shrug. There will be plenty of time for movies.

Simon simply looked up at you and continued to eat.

“It's good.” He said, holding up a forkful of food.

You could tell he was uncomfortable, but you couldn't figure out why. It couldn't have been about the movie.

Maybe it reminded him of being stabbed? Unlikely.

Or maybe he felt... disappointed? Like he let you down?

You could just ask, but that was too easy, and you were both too stubborn to talk about it outright.

“I'll be heading out just after noon, if that's fine with you? I just need to do some work before I leave.” You practically murmur.

“'S fine.” Simon nodded.

As you finished your breakfast and placed your plate in the sink, Simon surprised you with what he said.

“How about tonight?” He asked.

You turned to look at him with a confused look on your face.

He was still sitting at the table with his phone in hand.

“The movie. Its still playing... how about tonight?” He asked again.

You nodded. “Y-yeah. Tonight works for me. What time?”

“Eleven-hundred hours. You... can stay the night again. My flat is closer to the theatre than yours.”

You were too shocked to say anything, so you just nodded again.

Staying another night.

With Simon.

You were brimming with stupid amounts of joy.

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echoingbirdsofprey · 3 months ago

Text

Delicate (Jake's Version)

30 - Lift Me Out Of All My Doubt

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: EXPLICIT (MDNI!)

Warnings: SMUT but like in a funny way, fertility and pregnancy talk, doctors appointments, embarrassed!Jake

A/N: This one actually turned out better than I thought. As always, I appreciate all the love you guys give this and all my fics so please enjoy! Pics from Pinterest (Muster and Sam!) I super appreciate the likes, comments, reblogs, and everything! Please share! Title insp below too!

If you'd like to join the tag list or our discord, The Written Brain, please shoot me a message! We'd love to have you!

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva @kmc1989 @khouse712 @rootedinrevisions @kaleysbookshelf @crossskylinesandcontrails

Samantha awoke, her nose buried in Jake’s neck. She opened one eye, inhaled his masculine scent and sighed deeply. There was a light sheen of sweat on his skin, and if she poked her tongue out, she’d guess it was salty. He smelled like sweat, but it was a good sweat. Not that gross, stale sweat after he’d been cooking in his flight suit all day. No, it wasn’t that type of sweat. There was a musky sweetness to it, that sent a jolt straight through Sam’s core, drawing forth her arousal. It was the type that made Sam horny.

“Fuck. You smell so good.” She whispered, touching her lips to his neck. He stirred slightly, his arms, which were already wound around her, tightened, plastering her to his body. Under the sheets, their skin stuck together, and Jake’s cock was hard, as per usual for the morning.

“Do I still smell like sex from last night?” He rasped, rolling his hips toward her. He didn’t look at her, just kept his nose against her hair, the fresh scent of her shampoo and the silken feel of her hair making him moan softly.

“Yes.” She purred, as his arms released her, but his hands met her hips, grasping around the bones, rubbing his thumbs over the points. She groaned and rolled onto her stomach, pulling away from him.

“Ohh. Your neck. And your shoulder. I’m sorry.” Jake’s eyes widened, still sleepy, as he caught sight of the hickeys on her neck and the teeth marks on her shoulder. He reached over and ran his fingers gently across where he bit down on her shoulder. She winced, but smirked.

“You’re a fucking animal, Jake.” She mused, biting her lip and catching his gaze, locking his gaze.

“You wanted it. Was it everything you hoped for?” He asked, running his fingers up into her hair. He tugged a little, pulling her head back just enough that she had to look him in the eyes.

“Yes...because you let go.” She whispered, the smirk widening across her lips. She felt a rush of heat spread over her whole body.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jake said softly, his other hand going to cup her cheek.

“You didn’t hurt me. You marked me.” Sam scooted closer, poking her nose at him.

“That’s a bit of a dangerous way of thinking of that, don’t you think?” He raised a brow and pursed his lips.

“I know you’re not going to actually hurt me.” Sam affirmed, and Jake’s hand left her hair, settling around the back of her neck, He brushed the knuckles of his other hand over her cheek and his voice dropped an octave and barely audible.

“How do you know? I'm a fucking animal, remember?”

“Jacob. Alexander. Seresin.” She chided, tilting her head and closing the distance between their lips. Jake hummed and his fingers tightened at the back of her neck. When they parted, his eyes searched hers.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, babygirl. You’ve wrecked me.” His tone grew husky.

“How have I wrecked you?” She asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

“You’ve wrecked me for anyone else.” Jake placed an arm behind his head and smiled up at her.

“Thinkin’ about dumping me?” She joked.

“No. I just can’t be like this with anyone else. I can’t be this vulnerable and raw emotionally with anyone else.” His brows furrowed.

“Okay. Sorry, I guess?” Sam teased and Jake shifted, cupping her cheek again.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” He purred.

“I’ve said it before, Jake. It’s okay for you to feel things...and to show me what you’re feeling.” Sam said, and they heard the jingling of tags and the shaking out of coats. The dogs had woken up, finally. Jake smiled and drew Sam in for a kiss.

“I know. And the same goes for you. So I know...I know you’re not going to be totally okay until we have some answers. I’m here for you...but try not to keep thinking about it. We’ll get it sorted out.” His reasoning was reassuring. They both felt a weight then, and Sam looked back to see Muster slinking onto the bed. She rolled and squeezed herself between Sam and Jake.

“Good morning, sweet girl.” Sam said, as the dog placed her head over Sam's stomach. She thought nothing of it, but it made Jake wonder, especially when Ballast also jumped up on the bed. Rocco couldn't, but Jake reached down to help him. Jake had noticed the dogs had all been clingy with Sam, but especially Muster. She had been like that when they were in Oklahoma, with Georgia as well.

They laid in bed for a little while longer, enjoying the company of the dogs and each other, and Jake's mind kept wandering back to Muster. Was she trying to tell them something? Did she know something they didn't? Jake had always seen the female dog as intuitive, and he thought maybe she felt something was up with Sam. Maybe Sam just didn't know yet.

🛩️⚓🛩️

The dogs had to stay in the truck again, as Sam and Jake walked around the Japanese Friendship Garden, in Phoenix, Arizona. It was a short trip through and they stopped at a few specific displays, taking pictures for their Instagrams. Jake had briefly spoken to Tyler, just letting him know that they had gotten to Arizona in one piece and that the truck was still running great. Jake was planning to sell his truck when they got home.

When they left the Friendship Garden and headed back to the truck, they let the dogs out. They had great recall and both Ballast and Rocco stayed with Jake, while Muster clung to Sam. There was a small park across from the garden and Jake brought a tennis ball for the dogs to chase. He threw it a few times, both Ballast and Rocco sprinting after it, but again, Muster stayed close to Sam. She had knelt down and Muster was snuggled against Sam's midsection again.

“What is up with you, girlie? You're so affectionate lately.” Sam said, and Jake overheard her.

“She's trying to tell us something.” He murmured, glancing at her. Sam's brows furrowed.

“Like what?” She asked. Jake threw the tennis ball again and the two male dogs charged after it. Jake turned and knelt down, running a finger over Sam's cheek.

“She was like this with Georgia. Put it together.” His voice was soft as he guided her in for a quick kiss.

“Jake...don't give me false hope.” She pulled away slightly but Jake reached for her, keeping her there for a moment before helping her stand.

“I'm just pointing out similarities. We won't know until we're home and you have that appointment. I have hope, can't you?” He asked, his arms winding around her waist. He saw worry flood her expression.

“I'm a little scared to.” She murmured, then her eyes met his and he smiled warmly at her.

“Speaking of hope...can we talk about our wedding? I feel like we haven't even discussed it at all.” He asked. Sam reached down to rub Muster’s ears and she whined.

“Sure. What do you wanna talk about?” She asked, and they both turned to start the walk back to the truck. Muster stuck right to Sam’s side and Jake whistled for Ballast, who came running without the ball. Rocco was the one who had the ball and he was bolting back toward his humans excitedly.

“Where are we doing it? Who’s coming? When?” Jake questioned and Sam shrugged.

“Well, I figured the sooner the better. We don’t have to do some big thing. And we just invited your family, my family, and our Navy family.” She explained and Jake pursed his lips, not satisfied with her answer.

“Okay. So...like in a month? In a few months?” Jake asked, his hand running up and down her back as they walked.

“Maybe we plan for two months down the line? Hopefully no one will be deployed.” Sam said. Jake nodded.

“I think everyone is on an assignment now, and we’ve been pretty consistently on six month deployments. Should line up nicely.” He said, just as they got back to the truck. They got the dogs all in and then Jake went around to the passenger side and opened it for Sam, helping her climb in. The truck was taller than his at home and she appreciated the help. It made Jake chuckle a little at how much they had both changed. He remembered their first date, where she didn’t want his help at all, and now look at them.

🛩️⚓🛩️

Jake was leaning comfortably against the headboard, hips open, legs spread as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced over at Samantha every so often, who was laying on her stomach, doing the same. Jake only had his boxer briefs on. Sam placed her phone down and turned the light off.

“Hey.” Jake's brows furrowed and he glared in her direction. It wasn't like he was using the light but it surprised him at how dark the room was.

“Hey yourself.” She mused, and she began to crawl up Jake's body. He threw his phone on the floor and smirked.

“What are we doin’ babygirl?” He asked as she settled her hips over his, her hands planted on his chest. He gazed up into mahogany colored orbs that had lust lining them, even in the low light.

“I just wanna...be close to you.” Sam said, leaning down to kiss his neck. He shivered and his hands grasped her hips hard.

“That all?” He asked, letting his head fall back as she moved her hands up and down his bare chest. She rested her head against his and sighed. “What's up?”

“I'm worried.” She murmured, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“About your appointment.” He guessed, his hands traveling up from her waist.

“I know you said stop worrying but...”

“I know you can't. It's okay. I'm here. Just talk it out if you need to...or don't. Whatever you need, I'm here.” Jake reassured her and she lifted her head, her nose brushing his, her lips just inches away. Jake let his mouth cover hers for a short moment, an acknowledging gesture.

“Can we skip the last place we were going to stop and go another time?” She asked, sheepishly.

“Of course we can.” Jake nodded and swallowed hard, knowing only some of the turmoil she was feeling. He knew she was feeling inadequate, and while he could show her in plenty of ways, he knew that wasn't what she needed right now. What she needed was a soft place to lay, and his warmth surrounding her in comfort.

🛩️⚓🛩️

They were finally home. They arrived late at night, finding no one home. Javy and Maisie had been staying in Lemoore while he was on a special Ops mission, so the cottage had been left empty for a few months. They slept, almost religiously, for the next two days, before Jake had to go back to work for real, and both of them had their separate appointments to figure out exactly what was going on with them.

Jake came down from their bedroom in his khakis, a white t-shirt, and his brand new cowboy boots. He was buckling his belt and he saw Sam standing at the kitchen island, with Muster at her feet. She had on a rosy pink dress that didn't quite reach her knees, quarter sleeves and a v-neck, making her breasts look full and perky.

“Hey beautiful.” Jake said, his hands making their way to her waist as he stepped into her space. She blushed and glanced down at Muster, who whined softly.

“Flattery.” She mused and Jake smirked.

“No, no, it's called flirty.” His voice dropped an octave, making Sam bite her lip as she stared up into bright sage green.

“You have your evaluation today.” She affirmed and he leaned in to kiss her, his hands cupping her cheeks.

“Mhm. I'm gonna bring Ballast with me. Cyclone said as long as I'm in the office, he can come. He can't go out on the tarmac with me.” He said and Sam scoffed.

“Taking away my protection.” She said and Muster pressed her head toward Sam then.

“I think you'll be just fine with the other two. Rocco has a confirmed bite...kind of.” They both laughed and then Jake's lips met hers once more before he turned to leave. Sam waved goodbye and she felt a sudden nausea come over her as he and Ballast closed the door behind them. She finished her cup of tea and then sat down on the couch, Muster and Rocco climbing up on either side of her. She thought she might take a quick nap before she needed to leave for her own appointment.

It only took about twenty minutes for Jake's entire appointment. He passed with flying colors. Physically, his baseline was perfect to fly. Mentally, there was still some work that had to be done but nothing that couldn't be fixed in the next couple of weeks while he relearned the jet inside and out. He just needed a refresher with the NATOPs manual.

“Is there anything else you need, Jake?” The doctor asked and he nodded.

“Uh, yeah, could you do one more test? A fertility test?” He asked, his cheeks heating at the thought of it. He had an idea of what he probably needed to do but when the doctor held out a sterile cup and told him to use the bathroom down the hall because it was ‘more private’ Jake couldn’t help the embarrassment he felt. While the doctor sent his results over to his commanding officer, Jake headed to the bathroom.

He locked the door behind him, and placed the cup on the sink. His hands were shaking as he took out his phone and found Sam's name. Or more accurately ‘Honey Bun’ with a honey comb and a peach next to it.

“Hi. I thought you were at your appointment?” Just hearing her sweet voice ring through the phone had him slightly aroused.

“I am. I uh...have to give them a sample...for the fertility test.” He said, and Sam could hear the shame tinting his voice and she laughed out loud.

“What kind of sample?” She asked, teasing him.

“You know what kind of sample...” He murmured.

“Yeah but I wanna hear you say it. So...what kind of sample is it?”

“It's...a...a...semen...sample...” Jake's hushed tone made Sam cackle on the other end of the line. He groaned, and then he laughed because it was kind of funny at that moment.

“Ohhh, Jake, what did you think they were going to ask you for?” She was still giggling, but her raucous laughter had subsided.

“I mean, I knew, but this is so awkward and weird. I'm supposed to jack off in a bathroom? Like can't I take it home?” Jake whined.

“No, obviously not. So why did you call me?” She leaned her head back on the couch and smirked.

“Well, he said I could phone a friend for help.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if she could see him.

“Yeah? And you didn’t ask Javy to whisper sweet nothings into the phone for you? Well I would bet you haven't pulled your pants down yet, have you? Are you sitting?”

“No....hang on.” He did as she suggested, shaking his head and realizing how idiotic he was being.

“Ready yet?” She asked and Jake murmured something about needing help because this wasn't one bit sexy and he was only half hard.

And then Samantha moaned into the phone.

“What...are...are you...touching yourself?” His eyes went wide and he stared at the phone, as her words caused him to grow fully erect in no time flat.

“Mmm Jake, my tits are sore. I wish you were home to give them a massage.” She purred as she kept on hand on one of her breasts, and let the other slide down between her legs. When she ran her fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves through her panties, she let his name leave her lips in an exaggerated sigh, knowing it would get him even more aroused.

“ Holy shit .” Jake groaned and he adjusted his hips, palming his balls before wrapping his hand around his shaft. “This is so fuckin’ weird and hot at the same time.”

“What are you thinkin’ about Jake?” She asked, her voice low and sultry, filling the quiet echo of the bathroom. He began to move his hand up and down his length, imagining Sam’s mouth there instead. He threw his head back and let out a strangled groan of her name.

“You, holy fuck.” His voice was shaky as he sped up the movements of his hand.

“Me what, Jake?” She asked, continuing her ministrations with her fingers.

“Your mouth.” He moaned softly, fumbling for the cup as he felt his balls draw up tight. Just a few more...

“My mouth doing what, Jake?” Sam asked, and he could hear her at the edge of her pleasure. He could hear the breathiness and the lust tinting her tone.

“Your mouth around my cock, oh, fuck, Sam it feels so good.” His voice became husky and he felt his cock throb as he squeezed carefully, then slowing his hand in favor of more deliberate passes. Jake's breath quickened and just as Sam rolled over the crest of her orgasm, Jake followed swiftly behind with one last pull. He smoothed his thumb over the head of his cock, aiming for the cup and groaning as he watched his cum spurt out, wishing he was filling Sam with it instead.

“All set there, handsome?” He could hear the shudder of Sam's words as he panted out confirmation.

“Got it...in the cup...though I wasn't...”

“Mmm you're an ace in my mind, Jake. Hit the target every time. ” She interrupted him and he blew air from his lips with a laugh.

“I'll see you at home later.” He growled, and then they both hung up at the same time. Jake sighed and screwed the cap on the cup before he dropped it. He felt much more relaxed now.

🛩⚓🛩️

Samantha laid back on the bed in the exam room after answering a round of questions she hadn't expected.

When was your last period?

Two months ago.

Is that normal for you?

Yes. I've always been irregular.

Are you currently on any birth control?

No. It made everything worse when I was.

Worse how?

I had no periods for a year and then extremely painful ones every couple of months after switching to something else because it was making me nauseous and dizzy all the time so I stopped taking anything. I felt better after.

And when did you stop using protection during sex?

Maybe October of last year?

Do you track your ovulation cycles?

No. Should I?

It can be beneficial if you're trying to get pregnant. Have you taken a pregnancy test?

No.

Last question. Any history of gynecological conditions besides the irregular periods?

Nothing diagnosed.

The doctor had taken some blood and done an inconclusive pelvic exam. She had stepped out for a few minutes to talk to a nurse and Sam felt nausea creep up in her stomach again. When the doctor appeared again, she shut the door and had a tablet in her hand. She scrolled and then placed it down.

“So I'd like to perform an ultrasound if that's okay with you?” She asked and Sam's brows furrowed.

“What will that tell you?” She asked, her heart pounding.

“Whether or not you're pregnant, for sure. Your blood work came up with minute levels of hCG, human chorionic gonadotropin. We just call it ‘the pregnancy hormone’, however your pelvic exam didn't show much uterine change, if any, but I'm not convinced you are or are not pregnant either way. An ultrasound will confirm.” The doctor said and Sam just nodded. The doctor moved the ultrasound machine closer and flicked it on. She squirted the gel on Sam’s belly and spread it around with the probe. The doctor then turned the monitor and pointed, speaking softly. “So, Samantha, what we’re seeing here at the bottom of the screen is two legs, then two arms, and a head. And your baby has a great heartbeat. Looks to be just over eight weeks along.”

“So I’m pregnant?” Sam asked, a smile spreading on her lips as she wiped the gel off her stomach.

“Yes you are. I’d like to see you again in about four weeks. We should be able to tell gender at that point. If you’d like images, you can log in to your patient portal for those. I took quite a few views for you. You can get printed copies from us also, but it takes a bit longer. Congratulations, Samantha.”

Sam left the office and figured out how to log into the patient portal as quickly as she could before getting in her truck. She saved just one of the pictures, the clearest picture. She started the truck and paused before putting her phone on the center console. She drove out of the parking lot and toward the air base.

🛩⚓🛩️

Jake sat in his office, which had been decorated by surprise by Bob and Nat for Christmas, a little tree in the far corner and some tinsel around his desk, a wreath on the door outside framing his name tag. ‘LCDR Jacob A. Seresin.’ with ‘Hangman’ in quotes underneath. Because who wants to write out ‘Lieutenant Commander’ all the time, Jake thought, a small laugh coming from his lips. He thought leaving the Christmas decorations up well into the spring was quite hilarious too. Being in his office just cemented his promotion, because before, for whatever reason, it hadn’t felt real. Not until now. He glanced out the window, his vantage point excellent to watch jets take off. His brain drifted in the afternoon light to a time not too long ago.

Tyler and Georgia had arrived home from the hospital safely with Jaycen. They were both exhausted and Jake and Sam were doing whatever they could to help. Jaycen had been fairly quiet, so Tyler handed the little boy to his brother. Jake is careful, cradling the bundle in his arms. Jake had never had the urge to have a baby, nor hold one, but the baby fever was catching now. As he looked down lovingly at his newborn nephew, he took a quick peak towards Sam, who had begun making dinner for the four of them. She had put a pot of water on for spaghetti, and another with sauce and meatballs in it. An easy meal that was quick and one of Jake and Tyler’s favorites when they were kids. They still liked it even now.

“What do you think?” Jake asked, making Sam chuckle.

“About what?” She asked. He motioned to Jaycen. She smirked. “Yes, Jake. I know you want one. I do too.”

Jake was pulled from his daydream by a knock at his office door. He took the chewed and mostly destroyed toothpick from his mouth and said, “Come in.” He was surprised to see it was Samantha. Ballast greeted her happily, his tail like a propeller.

“Hey, honey bun. What are you doin’ here?” He asked, standing and nearly sprinting to her. He pulled her into his arms.

“I came to tell you...” She began and he drew away so he could look her in the eyes. She smiled wide and kissed him before finishing her sentence. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby, Jake.”

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