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leclerity · 3 months

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that's who i'm racing for

Charles Leclerc x Fiance!Reader count: 1k words summary: Charles and you talk before a big race, sad because you're having to call instead of sleeping in the same bed. a/n: it sounds like angst but it's mostly fluff. i promise!

If you’re not in bed, by his side, he will call you before every race. He likes to say that not hearing your voice lull him to sleep brings bad luck, and that’s the one thing he won’t risk. You’re convinced it’s just a nice little gesture, but you cherish it nonetheless.

“Baby,” Charles mumbles into the phone, looking at the camera with weary eyes. “Turn your light on. I want to see you.”

“It’s late. I’m heading to bed, too.”

“I know, but I miss your face.”

You know he can see you as well as you can see him—the light from your phones is bright enough—but you turn on your bedside lap, anyway. “Happy?”

“Much happier.” Charles shifts around until his hands are wedged under his pillow and he’s staring at the phone with a lovey-dovey smile. “I can’t believe you had to stay at home.”

“Duty calls,” you say.

“I should be your duty.”

“You will be. Soon enough.”

“Show me.”

Dutifully, you bring up your hand, moving it so that the diamond ring is visible over the camera, as butterflies fill your stomach. It’s been months, yet you’re still not used to it – you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, it’ll just have one more ring added to it.

“Ah, I can’t wait for you to be mine,” he says.

“I’m already yours.”

“Not officially. And you’re not here.”

You turn the light off, knowing he’s seen what he wanted to see, but your smile still shows on the screen. “I know. I’ll be there for the next race, I promise.”

“The bed feels empty without you, you know,” he murmurs. “Without my fiance.”

“I’ll warm it up soon enough.”

“You better.”

You hear him playing music in the background – sometimes he does that when he can’t fall asleep, when you’re not there. Your heart tugs at its strings but there’s nothing you can do. His eyes are getting heavier, even though he’s trying to keep them open to look at you, and you can tell that he’s not far out from completely falling asleep.

You decide to take the initiative. “I’ll head to bed, I think.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m tired.”

“Maybe,” you say. “Does it make a difference?”

Charles thinks about it. “No. But I wish we didn’t have to sleep apart.”

“I know. Me too. But you need your sleep, my love.”

“I know, I know… I’d just rather be with you.”

“Me, too.”

He looks at you and you see his face soften, even with all the tiredness. His hair is messy and falling over his eyes, a far cry from how he likes to present himself, but this is how you like him best – at his most genuine, most vulnerable. Where he’s not the driver, the Monegasque, but just Charles.

Just yours.

He sighs. “Oh, what would I do to sleep in your arms tonight…”

You feel the pain in his voice as if it were your own. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t apologise. Don’t even think it’s your fault.”

The thing he won’t admit, not to himself and let alone to you—but you can see it—is the reason why he’s still up, way past his bedtime on race day. It’s almost halfway through the season and he’s doing good in the standings, and maybe Ferrari’s luck will turn for the better this year, but Lando’s right behind him and the race tomorrow has to be good if he wants things to stay this way.

The pressure is intense. You can see it in the weariness under his eyes, in the way he’s felt just a little bit aloof in the past week, especially since he landed in Spain. It breaks your heart to watch him like this and not be able to hug him, to hold him, to kiss the fear away.

So you fluff up your pillow and lie down, propping the phone up against what is usually Charles’s pillow. “We can pretend I’m there.”

“How?”

“Stay on call. Fall asleep together. I’ll hear you snoring and it’ll be like I’m there.”

“I don’t snore,” he says, but you can tell that his voice has picked up a little. “Okay. Just falling asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s late.”

You wait as he props the phone up, too, and the camera is half-covered by the pillow, but you don’t say anything. You can just about make out his hair and his eyes, even with his mouth out of sight.

He’s beautiful, no matter what, and you can’t wait to be finally his in every way that matters.

“You’re going to have an amazing race tomorrow, mon cheri.”

Charles kisses his finger then presses it to the camera, whispering sweet nothings to you in French. You feel yourself drifting off, but stay up—just in case—until you hear the familiar snoring, and you were right – it’s almost like you’re right there, right next to him.

When you close your eyes, you can still hear him snoring, and you find that you can easily pretend that you’ll touch him if you just reach over. Sleep takes you with your hand stretched out, lulled into dreams by your fiance’s snoring, and maybe the world won’t fall apart just because you’re not together.

You wake up and he’s gone, the call has ended, but there’s a text message thanking you for last night and telling you how much it helped give him a good night’s sleep, and how much he can’t wait to get back to you on Monday.

Later, some half an hour before the race, you get another text from him: 72 days until you’re mine. That’s who I’m racing for.

You clutch your phone to your chest, praying to all the gods you do and don’t believe it to keep him safe. To let him win without having to sacrifice anything. To bring him home safe, to you in one piece.

Soon enough, you’ll be lying in bed together, falling asleep with your arms wrapped around each other until it gets too hot, and just a little after that, you’ll be doing so while sharing the Leclerc name.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #charles leclerc imagine #m.fic #this was meant to be fully fluffy so i apologise #but it's a lot fluffier than my usual stuff!!!#i pinky promise more fluff is coming

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

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Hearts [S. R.]

Young!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

and by public demand, part 2

summary: an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

A/N: here we go! started watching criminal minds last week and i'm halfway through the first season so expect a lot of content as I progress with the series. Spencer Reid from season one is the cutest thing I ever looked at

If you want to be added to the taglist just tell me, and if you have ideas, send them!

You'd think FBI offices would be quiet at night, but the truth is, with so many agents and interns reporting to do, the night seemed to be the busiest time.

After spending three months there you had almost obtained your own desk and knew most of the people, especially the BAU team whom you had been assigned to support for your internship. Since you began your university studies, you had wanted to work in that FBI unit and when the opportunity presented itself you were extremely excited, but now that it was a reality, you could realize that the workload was unimaginable and heavier than you expected. Still, with any luck, proper schooling, and practice you could be aiming for a permanent position in maybe two or three years. For now, being there as an intern was more than enough.

You were so engrossed in reading your computer screen that you didn't hear when the office door opened and it wasn't until a figure sat down next to you that you realized who it was.

You and Spencer Reid met many years ago, when you were both in middle school, in Las Vegas, and from that moment on you could appreciate what a prodigy he was. He was a very serious, quiet, and shy boy, but for some reason you always enjoyed his company and, judging by the fact that he never left you, you thought he did too. On some occasions you exchanged books that he returned to you in two days and you kept for a few weeks, you talked during some school breaks, you asked him for help with homework, and on more than one occasion you went so far as to defend him verbally from those silly children who bothered him; in general, you had something close to a friendship. You never thought that after so long, and so far from Las Vegas, you would see him again, much less in the condition you were in right now.

"Hey," you greeted him kindly, showing him a tired smile "What are you doing here?"

"I was finishing an analysis of yesterday's case," he replied. The team had had to profile another pyromaniac and for just a bit they had managed to catch him, which had left them somewhat tense "And you?"

"A report" you answered simply. You had the hypothesis that those kinds of activities ended up in the hands of the interns because they were extremely tedious and they wanted to get rid of it.

Reid wasn't much of a talker if the occasion didn't call for it and you knew it, so it wasn't too strange that he would only sit near you to watch you work, although there was something different about him tonight that alarmed you.

"You think I'm dumb?" he asked suddenly, forcing you to look up at him.

"You? Are you asking me if I think Doctor Reid is dumb? you asked, emphasizing his title, but he gently shook his head.

"Not in that sense, but like... weird or something."

“We all are a little bit. And that's not so bad” you said sincerely. You knew that on some occasions Spencer would ask questions and all you had to do was wait a bit for him to tell you what the doubt was about.

“And do you think…?” he started to say, a little unsure "Do you think I don't have a girlfriend because I'm that weird?"

"Who told you that?" you exclaimed more directly. You imagined that this concern could only arise from someone having suggested it, as had already happened on other occasions, and it still touched you a little that he had the confidence to assist you for that kind of thing.

"No, no one in particular"

"You know, I think you don't care about having or not having a girlfriend" you ventured to say "Was it Morgan?"

“No, not him,” he hastened to say, thinking a little about his next words, “Uhm, that girl from the department next door…”

"Victoria," you cut him off, rolling your eyes in anticipation and feeling the heat already rising up your cheeks. She was a typical mean girl; long black hair, tall, always wearing expensive dresses, high heels, and fake smiles. You'd met this girl during internships and it took you a couple of weeks to make you feel uncomfortable around her, but you finished hating her when you realized how intent she seemed to be on embarrassing Spencer every chance she got. The fact that her father was a department head made it a bit difficult to deal with any situation. "Why do you care what she says?"

“She is… persistent”

"You know she only does it because she wants to get your attention, right?" you explained, a little fed up with the situation and how he was always affected by what others said about him.

It was clear that from the beginning she had her eye on the young man, and on those days, she would walk around the office and try to start a conversation with Spencer, which he never carried out. When she noticed that her attempts were useless, she began to make hurtful comments that became recurring as the months went by, since it was the only time when she could receive any kind of attention from the brown-haired man. Spencer frowned, quite confused by the situation when you told him that, since apparently he hadn't made the same account of the facts as you.

"What are you talking about?"

"She likes you" you insisted, as if it were something obvious, although it didn't seem so to him. You could almost see how the gears in his brain were struggling to find a degree of coherence between the events that he had been ignoring for a long time.

"Then why does she say such horrible things to me?"

“It's because…” you mumbled, closing the lid of your computer and looking for a way to explain to the boy. It was amazing how he was the most intelligent person you knew and at the same time he would come to you to ask such banal things like that "she is a stupid girl who has had everything in life and since she isn't capable of having an intelligent conversation with you, she thinks that being mean is going to get your attention. It's like those kids who pulled your hair in elementary school," you muttered, trying to present an analogy, but he didn't react in any way “She probably only told you that because she wanted to know if you have a girlfriend, not because she really believed it.”

Spencer took a moment to absorb that, wondering how that made sense, since for him the fact that you liked a person implied being kind and attentive, not behaving as Victoria did with him. But you had read the signs from the beginning and that was probably another reason for your dislike for your internship partner, who you thought was unworthy of being attracted to someone as cute as him. Although during high school he hadn't been the most sought after by girls, now he was quite handsome and that shy and polite attitude made him even more attractive, at least for you. Besides the fact that, of course, it was a genius who you were talking to.

"And why didn't she just ask?" he genuinely murmured and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, when we like a person, we do stupid things"

"Do you really think she likes me?"

"Of course, what reason would there be for her not to?" you mumbled and he just looked away, as he did most of the time, while he shrugged, which made you think that maybe this conversation was more serious than you imagined "Do you like her?"

"No! Definitely not” he said right away, as if he was offended “It just seems strange to me that you say that”

"Say what?"

"That someone likes me"

"Oh, please," you breathed, completely incredulous. "You're charming, Reid, I don't think she’s the only one who likes you”

"Do you think I'm charming?" he said, slightly skeptical. You loved his reaction to any compliment he received.

"Sometimes" you lied. Actually, you thought he was charming all the time "Besides you're an FBI profiler, don't you detect that kind of thing in girls?"

"It's harder to analyze women than criminals," he argued, making you chuckle slightly.

Suddenly the report you had to make was forgotten and you wished you wanted to spend more time with him, although you didn't know if he would be willing to do the same. It was one thing to be together at work and another very different thing was that he wanted to be with you personally.

"Do you have anything in particular to do today?" you exclaimed cautiously, so the question allowed him to politely get rid of the invitation if he wanted to. You held back your urge to smile when he said no, attentive to what you had to say “Do you want to go to my apartment? If I'm still here I'm going to have a migraine and I think you should relax for a while too”

“Go to your apartment?” he asked, just to be sure, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, like… order some pizza, and… do you like wine? I have wine at home. And we can put on thrillers and see who can figure out who the killer is first”

"I would beat you"

"You think so, Reid?" you said, challenging his strange burst of confidence, and Spencer nodded playfully, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'll buy you your week's coffee if you beat me" saying this, you knew full well you didn't stand a chance, but if a couple of dollars spent on coffee would get you a few extra hours with him, you were willing to accept that.

"It's a deal" he smiled and in less than ten minutes you were out of the offices.

As expected, you lost the game, but you couldn't say you ended the night disappointed. At first you didn't even know why you invited him, because outside of that neighborhood park in Las Vegas, you'd never spent any time alone. Spencer was all shy at first, always sitting up straight and hugging his briefcase, but when you broke the tension he relaxed considerably. The wine helped a bit because, although he confessed to you that he didn't drink often, you two ended up with a bottle of red that you had in the cupboard; not too much to lose consciousness, but enough to get gigglier. Even Spencer's ever-dapper outfit was thrown into disarray, as he'd loosened his tie and removed his vest to deal with the rise in body temperature the alcohol brought on. As promised you had pizza for dinner, which he refused to let you pay for, and in the process you put on some of the classic movies you found, according to google, making sure neither of you had seen them before. That night you were tempted to tell your partner that he could sleep over there if he wanted, but you had to say that a hint like that might make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to break the magic of the moment.

So the next morning you walked into the Quantico offices more energetic than usual, holding a couple of glasses of coffee on a tray.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Morgan greeted you, as you approached the BAU work area, where Hotch and Elle were also present.

"Good morning, have you seen Spencer today?"

"I suppose he arrived, but I haven't seen him"

"I think he hid in the kitchen"

"Why do you ask?" muttered Morgan, who was probably the gossipiest of the three and also the most teasing. You knew, unfortunately, that if you didn't tell him, he would question Spencer, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I bought him a coffee. We made a bet last night and I'll be buying it all week"

"So you're trying to make him fall for you, huh" he exclaimed, completely ignoring your explanation, so you decided to play along.

"I think I'll need a few more months for that" judging by the man's laugh, you knew that the answer had satisfied him. You wondered if it bothered you that Spencer might misinterpret that joke as fact, but at the same time you wondered if it really was something that bothered you enough to deny it.

You walked down the aisle looking for the brown-haired boy and greeted a few people along the way, until, as if by divine grace, you looked at the man’s back and at the same time heard the click of heels, which you already knew quite well, going in the same direction.

"Spencer!" you called him before Victoria could tell him anything, and he turned with that awkwardness that characterized him showing a small smile when he noticed that it was you.

"Hello"

“You better not be making your coffee,” you murmured, getting close enough to hand her the cup you brought on the tray and making sure Victoria, who was making her own drink, would overhear the conversation. “I hope you like it. Sweet as you"

"Thank you," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment you'd just paid him. He peered into the cup and frowned “Why did the barista write a heart next to my name?”

“It wasn't the barista, it was me”

It took Spencer a moment to sink the words in, and then he looked back at you with a confused expression.

"And why did you write a heart next to my name?"

You couldn't help but contain a laugh and Victoria, who had been attentive to the entire conversation, contained an angry sigh when she saw you extend your hand to the boy's bicep to give it a squeeze, taking the opportunity to get a little closer to him.

"I hope to repeat last night sometime" you muttered ignoring his question "I really had fun"

"Me too," he said, faster than you'd expect, and you smirked to notice that she was right next to him, her jaw clenching angrily. Without Reid realizing it, that talk could be completely interpreted as you've had a sexual affair, and not only that, but you were looking forward to it again.

"I'll see you around, right?"

"I think so" he replied. Spencer took a sip of the coffee you bought him, as if he'd just remembered it, and took a moment to savor it, closing his eyes in the process. You tried not to be distracted by the afterimage of him licking his lips. "I love it, what's with it?"

“Huh-uh, I won't tell you. If you want to drink it, you will have to ask me” you replied playfully. You thought that perhaps, at some point, he would become uncomfortable with your indiscreet flirtations, but when he smiled at you and looked away, you knew he was actually liking it. And if Spencer liked being fawned over, you weren't going to put up a fight.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, doctor. Good luck on your day" you said goodbye, showing him the most beautiful smile you were capable of manifesting.

After that you made sure to look Victoria square in the eye as you left, confident that if she tried to say something rude to the profiler again you would confront her yourself and finally got lost. She looked at him, utterly offended, and then did the same, leaving behind the cup of coffee she was preparing to lock herself in the office and be grumpy all day. But Spencer didn't even notice any of it, as he was too busy looking closely at his heart in his cup to get any idea of what it might mean.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

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tkwrites · 5 months

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Elimination - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif by @thombordeleau

Title: Elimination

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Sad Quinn, fluff and comfort, smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), if I missed any others, please let me know.

Summary: When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed.

Word count: 4,200

Comments: This snapshot has been a long time coming. The idea of Sarah comforting Quinn the way she does came to me while I was driving to work one day, and I immediately wrote it down. It took me quite a while to figure Quinn’s family into the story, including his brothers (yes! They're finally here!).

As I was editing the comfort scene, I found the story continuing in a way I didn’t really expect, but mirrored Before I meet your parents… in a way I couldn’t ignore.

If you enjoy it, please let me know by commenting or reblogging! Your comments really do inspire me to keep writing!

Elimination

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The playoffs were a whole different beast than Sarah had become accustomed to. Not only was the season much longer than any of the guys were used to, practices were more intense and heated, video more in depth, the need for rest and recovery more acute. She knew first hand how tired the team was because she knew first hand how tired Quinn was.

In the first round, they'd lost the first game in the series before rallying to win the next three. The Kings won one more before the Canucks stamped them out with the last win coming on home ice in overtime. Despite the final score only being 1-0, it was the most exciting game Sarah had ever been to.

When she was sitting with Quinns family, Luke had taken to teasing her in that little brother way every time her hands ended up clutching her face with each shot directed at Demko or Talbot.

“Calm down, Sarah,” he’d said, when she jumped in her seat, hands flying up to cover her mouth as Demko barrel rolled to stop another shot from Kopitar.

She'd sent a playful glare his way, “I'm surprised Kylee hasn't told you you should never tell a woman to calm down. That's a surefire way to get yourself into trouble.”

Kylee, who was sitting on Lukes other side, snorted. “Oh, I have. He just doesn’t listen.”

Luke took it in stride and laughed. He reminded Sarah so much of her oldest nephew, Ryan. Good natured, friendly and a little bit goofy once she broke through that shy shell.

Sarah glanced at Jack, who was sitting with his some of his cousins farther down the row. His eyes darted away, as if caught staring at something he shouldn’t.

The strained way he acted around her was getting better, but he was still pretty standoffish toward her. When she asked Quinn what she could do to fix it, he said to just give it time, and Jack would come around eventually. He didn’t think it was actually anything about her, but rather Jack needing time to adjust to the situation.

“I think he finally realized how serious I am about you.”

“You’re serious about me?” she’d asked, all flirty lashes and coy smiles.

“You know I am,” he’d responded before leaning in to kiss her.

So, she turned back to the game, giving Jack time and hoping he would see how much she loved his older brother and that she only meant well.

When Garland shot the overtime goal off a picture perfect pass from Quinn, he managed to catch Talbot above the blocker, sending the puck sailing into the back of the net with a definitive whoosh.

The arena erupted into a wall of sound.

The entire team, clad in blue, spilled onto the ice, throwing helmets and gloves, crowding around Conor and Thatcher.

Quinn was ecstatic that evening. Practically bouncing off the walls of the club they went to to celebrate. Sarah had never seen him so loud - caught up in the atmosphere and moment.

Halfway through the night, he pulled her into a dim corner and kissed her so thoroughly, she actually considered pulling him into the dingy bathroom to have her way with him right then.

Jack interrupted, drunkenly loud, and demanded that Quinn come with him for a round of shots.

Quinn paused, meeting Sarah’s eye.

“Go celebrate,” she encouraged, trying her best to not come between them. She and Quinn could find a spare moment to celebrate on their own later.

With his family in his house, that moment hadn’t come, but she was glad to see Quinn celebrating so heartily with his brothers.

In the second round, after three straight losses to the Predators, Vancouver battled, forcing game five, before dominating in Nashville two nights later, selling their comeback story.

When they got back to town, the whole city was buzzing.

Despite the excitement, game six was awful to watch. Sarah had her hands over her mouth through most of it.

Now that they were fighting to tie, and the Preds were fighting, once again, to clinch the series, Nashville was playing dirty: exploiting every Canucks weakness they could find. They needled, drawing penalty after stupid, preventable penalty until they were three goals up at the end of the second period.

Quinn was exhausted. Sarah could see it in his skating and in the slumped set of his shoulders as they went into the dressing room for the intermission.

She sent him a text, I’m so proud of you.

He didn't reply, but they battled back, holding off all Preds offense and getting within a goal by the time Demko was pulled at the end of the third. Quinn battled fiercely to keep the puck in the offensive zone for more than a minute, giving a master class on body-eye coordination as he skirted the blue line, dodging Nashville players as if someone were controlling him with a top ice view.

Their passes were perfect: tic-tac-toe from Quinn to Mikheyev to Lafferty, but as Sam tried to get the puck to Höglander, the pass was intercepted.

Nashville fought to center ice and chipped the puck into the Vancouver end.

Quinn chased it, but he just didn't have enough in the tank. He caught up just as the puck bounced back out of the open net.

Full of frustration and despair, he smacked it into the boards. Caught at just the right angle, the puck ricocheted back at him, and he had to lift a hand to block it from hitting him in the face.

Sarah could practically see the frustrated embarrassment radiating off him as he skated to sit down.

Demko was pulled again and Quinn managed to get the empty netter back, but through the ugly march of time, the clock expired before they could score another.

The buzzer sounded and Nashville celebrated, throwing equipment all over the ice, all hugging and jumping as the Canucks limped into the dressing room.

Even despite the disappointment of losing, everyone was thrilled to see them get this far. Going from the middle of the pack last season to top of the league this year was no small feat. She knew Quinn wouldn’t be satisfied until they got the cup, but she was so proud of him.

He sent a text, telling them to go home and he would meet them there when he was done with the media.

It was torture for Sarah to have to leave and wait for him. She wished she could go down to the dressing room, but knew not only would she not be allowed in, Quinn would hate it. He would want to talk with her privately.

Everyone was subdued as they puttered around the apartment, waiting for him. Both Jack and Luke were on their phones, sprawled out over the living room furniture, while Ellen, Jim and Kylee were doing something in the kitchen. Sarah was too nervous to even distract herself. Quinn had lost before, of course, but she’d never seen him lose like this — not this kind of a season-ending, brutal loss.

When the elevator dinged, Sarah jumped to her feet, his family following suit, clambering into the living room.

To her surprise, Quinn came straight to her, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. His suit was rumpled, his tie attempting to slither out of his breast pocket. When she wrapped him in her arms, he practically collapsed against her.

Ellen knew Quinn loved and trusted Sarah and that he spent far more time with her these days, but it was still a bit shocking when he bypassed them all to go straight to her for comfort.

Sarah reacted in a way Ellen never had and upon seeing the scene play out, she realized Sarah’s reaction may have been something Quinn had been longing for for a long time.

She would usually hug him for a while, before talking him down. They would soon end up dissecting shifts and plays. He would lament how he could have been better, and she would try to comfort him while still being realistic.

Sarah just stood there, holding him. She didn't say a word, even when Quinn started to cry softly. She just ran a hand into his wet hair, while the other traveled slowly up and down his back.

She didn't assure or placate him, or even try to get him to stop crying. She just let him express the emotion without judgment or commentary. It hit Ellen suddenly that Sarah reacted this way because she had dealt with so much sorrow in her life, she knew how to comfort in these hard moments.

The family stood by and watched. She didn’t look up and meet their eyes with a conspiratorial, he’ll be alright, look, or invite them into the embrace. Her whole intention was focused on Quinn.

While it was sweet to see them together in this way, it was also a little awkward to watch, especially for the boys, who looked like they had no idea what to do.

It was full minutes before anyone said anything, and even then, it was just Sarah asking if he wanted to sit down. He shook his head so she did a little two-step, and kept on.

As Ellen watched them interact, it was obvious how much they meant to and understood each other. It was so sweet to witness her son finding the person he needed that she pulled out her phone to record them, wanting to document the moment.

When they finally spoke, Ellen was glad she was filming.

“I let everyone down,” Quinn said, his voice choked with emotion, just above a whisper.

“No.” Her voice was quite loud, the word definitive, leaving no room for doubt. It was a bit shocking to hear Sarah be so forceful.

Taking his jaw, she gently lifted his head up so he had to look into her eyes.

“No,” she repeated, her voice a little softer now. “This wasn't only your fault, and it didn't happen because of anything you did by yourself.”

Ellen wasn’t sure she would go that far… If he had gone for a change, someone with fresh legs may have been able to chase down that empty netter.

“You don’t win as a team, but lose by yourself. That’s not how this works.”

Now she understood where Sarah was going.

“I know this run is ending sooner than you wanted and I'd be more concerned if you weren't sad.” She paused for a long moment, looking into his eyes as if she was searching for something. When she didn’t find it, she continued, “I just - I want you to remember that I don't love you because you play hockey.”

His lower lip trembled and Ellen felt hers do the same.

“I love you because of this big, kind heart,” she said as she pressed a hand to his chest, “and because of this brilliant, thoughtful mind,” her other hand slid into the hair at his temple. “And those are the same as they were this morning. You're so much more than hockey.”

He was looking at her like she'd hung the moon.

Ellen felt tears slip down her own cheeks. All her life, she’d been trying to strike a balance with her boys - trying to find the right way to tell them hockey was just a part of who they are. And here Sarah was, walking into their life, and saying the exact thing Ellen had been trying to say all along.

Right then and there, the remaining reservations she had about Sarah were swept onto the back burner. She knew it would still take some getting used to, but how could she not love this woman standing in front of her, telling her son she loved him for who he was and not for the things he did? It was all she could ask for as a mother.

She glanced over at Jack, who looked a little dumbfounded, as if seeing Sarah for the first time. Luke was smiling in a glad, knowing way, his arm looped around Kylee.

Jim, standing on Ellen’s other side had a mixture of pride and disappointment on his face. Ellen knew he was going to battle with himself at the thought of Quinn crying over being eliminated. When they were kids, he would have told the boys to buck up, despite Ellen’s insistence it was okay for them to express their sadness for a little while.

The happiness at seeing someone accept Quinn as he was won out, and Jim put his arm around Ellen with a conspiratorial smile.

“Of course you’re going to be sad,” Sarah continued. “Like I said, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But you,” she poked him gently in the chest to emphasize her point, “sure as hell didn’t let me down.”

Quinn threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He wiped at his eyes, then turned to the family. They embraced him one by one.

After she’d hugged Quinn, Ellen went to Sarah, “I don’t know how you did that,” she said, pulling her close, “but that was exactly what he needed.”

When Quinn made his way back to Sarah, he kissed her temple. His eyes were still red, cheeks still splotched with color, but he looked settled. Not satisfied or happy, really, but settled.

Later that night, Ellen sent the video to her sister, making her promise to not share it with anyone. She just needed someone else to see the tenderness.

Oh, Elle, I'm so glad Quinn finally found a good one. I can't wait to meet her.

At the same time Ellen was texting her sister, Quinn was lying next to Sarah in bed. Her words from earlier replaying over and over again in his thoughts.

He'd practically begged her to stay over. She hadn't planned to with his family in the house, but he felt a bit needy and wanted the comfort of her next to him.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, turning to her.

She rolled onto her side so they were face to face. “I'm always gonna be in your corner, Quinn.”

Leaning in, he kissed her - gently at first, but it soon turned more passionate.

The fact that they would be apart before too long was on both their minds as they made love that night.

“Oh, Quinn. Right there, right there,” she chanted, voice soft.

The simple fact that he could make her feel this way made his heart feel full to bursting. At least he hadn't lost that.

Keeping eye contact, his hand traced to her left knee and pulled it up over his hip. He didn’t want her to have the same old orgasm. Not tonight. A big part of him wanted to prove he could still excel here.

Head tipping back, Sarah panted.

His other hand came up to guide her chin back down.

The way she clenched around him when their eyes met made his hips stutter.

She lifted herself up to catch his mouth. It changed the angle of his thrusts, making his whole body quiver. He tried to brace against it, slowing down and concentrating on kissing the breath out of her.

It worked in that they were both breathless before too long, but didn't ease the feeling of being pulled to the very edge of his restraint. The competitive streak inside him wasn't about to allow himself to come before she did - especially not tonight, when he had so much left to prove.

“No,” she gasped when he pulled away. “I was right there.”

He laughed into her skin. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said, before tracing his mouth over her clavicle and trailing his tongue between her breasts, savoring the salty taste of her skin.

The blankets pulled with him as he settled between her legs, and Sarah gasped as the cool air of his room hit her.

She looked so ethereal in a pool of soft light from one of the skylights, her chest rising and falling at a hurried, steady pace.

“God, you're beautiful,” he whispered.

Times like these, Quinn still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to find Sarah. She seemed to be his perfect match in every way. It wasn’t always smooth sailing - nothing ever was. This summer was sure to take a toll on their relationship. He knew, somehow, they would come out on the other side, better and stronger, but all the same, he wasn’t looking forward to spending so many nights without her.

Pushing that worry out of his mind, he concentrated the task at hand and lowered his mouth to her hot center.

It was his turn to give thanks.

She was acutely aware of his family in the apartment: brothers on the floor below, while his parents were down the hall. They were never particularly loud in bed, but the thought of his family overhearing hushed her vocal cords even more.

“Quinn,” she whimpered.

He ate up every whisper, every little whine and panted breath, knowing they were just for him.

Making some unintelligible noise, her back arched, lifting off the mattress.

She whined when he eased two fingers into her and lifted his mouth.

“Help me find it?” he whispered, crooking his fingers.

“Higher.”

He moved slowly, not wanting to go too fast and pass over it.

“There, there,” she panted.

Reaching up with his free hand, he disentangled her fingers from the sheet so he could grasp her hand, linking them together.

“You can press a little harder. It’s not as sen -” her voice broke off into a groaned, “oh, fuck,” as he urged that soft, spongey spot with a heavier touch.

They’d done this more after his revelatory first time, and he loved discovering new things about her. He still had a hard time finding her g-spot on his own, but he was learning. Tonight felt like a whole new ego stroke, one he was seeking if he was being honest with himself.

His mind wandered back to the first time he’d touched her, the way she’d reminded him of Helen of Troy - beautiful beyond belief. He ached for her the same way now as he watched her fall apart. Mouth dropped open as her body pulled taught as a bow string, one hand grasping the headboard for stability while the other clutched his like a vice.

As she came down from her high, he kept his fingers pressed into her.

Even as she squirmed against the sensitivity from his strong touch, she felt a blaze of pleasure reignite in her belly, faster than it ever had before.

Still kneading with his fingertips, he lowered down, sucking her sensitive pearl into his mouth. She let out a strangled cry that left him dizzy with satisfaction.

The contrast of his warm mouth and soft tongue on her core against the harsh rasp of his playoff beard on her inner thighs wound her tighter and tighter until he was sparking so much ecstasy in her body, she couldn't quite remember why she was trying to be so quiet.

Her fingers tightened in his at the same time her legs trembled and he knew she was close. He continued on, mouth soft and steady while his fingers worked with more focused intent.

The way she whimpered his name made him groan and rock his hips into the mattress to get a bit of relief.

When the tension in her pelvis finally snapped, Sarah cried out.

It was only after she came back to herself and he eased his fingers from her that she worried about how loud she'd been.

Before she could ask, he knocked her breathless again as he slid his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with apparent relish.

“Did I yell?” she whispered as he crawled back over her.

He shook his head, “not too loud. I don't think they heard.”

The anxiety ebbed away as he leaned in to kiss her.

“Can you turn over?” he asked, lips barely grazing hers.

She pulled back to look into his face.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said.

“You already did. Twice.”

“Please?” he asked, ghosting his lips over her cheek, “let me make you come one more time.”

In reality, Quinn was tired, but his pride was insistent, eager to feel her again and he knew if he got her on her stomach she’d come faster than in missionary.

He could see worry in her expression, but she did as he asked, the sheets clinging briefly to her back as she rolled.

One of his hands grazed down her side, following the curvature of her hip before tracing her hamstring all the way to the knee. Hooking his hand there, he eased her leg out to the side.

He really was spoiling her. Eagle with a broken wing was her favorite position other than missionary, but they didn’t do it terribly often, both generally preferring to see the other when they were together.

She felt Quinn’s heat before any of his skin, and raised her hips slightly to facilitate him.

“You’re —” she broke off into a groan as he eased into her again. She was so sensitive, she was fairly certain she would have fallen apart all over again if he had given her an intense enough look. Heat was already climbing up her spine and he hadn't even moved yet.

His hands appeared near hers as he braced on his forearms. She moved to lace her fingers through his.

When he began to thrust, he felt her fingers curl until her nails kissed his palms

Listening to her sweet sounds, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to live in her forever.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, chaos sparking all over her skin. “I didn't think I could come this many times so quickly.”

Her hushed statement rushed to his head. “Sarah,” he moaned into her neck. “Fuck, Sarah.”

His mouth traced the curve of her neck before gently biting the ridge of her shoulder.

The prick of pain from his teeth combined with the way he was hitting her g spot in a steady, continuous rhythm had Sarah’s mouth falling open. “Oh. Quinn,” she moaned. “Just like that. Please don't stop.”

Feeling out of his mind with pleasure and pride, he rested his forehead on her back.

Only after he felt her tremble and pulse around him and chanting that he loved her, he let himself go, spilling into her with a loud groan he tried to muffle into her skin.

They stayed that way for a long while, his sweaty chest pressed into her back. He was a comfortable weight, pressing her into the mattress.

Quinn talked himself into moving and eased out, his wince matching the breath she hissed through her teeth. Before he could decide which side to roll onto, she was turning onto her back, and pulling him into her embrace.

Resting his head on her chest, he sighed.

Sarah smiled, tired but gratified and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, but waited, knowing Quinn needed this extra affection.

“I don't…” he started to say, then trailed off, slowly tracing a circle around her belly button.

He had never felt supported and loved like he had today. Not only when she just let him cry, but when she reminded him that she loved the things about him that weren't his job.

Quinn hadn't known how much he needed to hear Sarah’s words until she was saying them. His whole family was so entwined in hockey that, even though he knew his parents loved him, it sometimes felt like his success and failure in the arena were wrapped up in their affection and approval. It was one of the reasons Jack always felt like the favorite child, as he had the most natural talent.

“You don't?” she urged when he didn’t say anything else.

He shook his head and took a steadying breath. “I feel like I don't deserve you.”

A little smile played on her lips, “I feel that way sometimes, too, but I'm not really sure it's about deserving. Everyone deserves love.”

She paused for a long time playing with his hair. It relaxed Quinn, causing him to practically melt into her.

“I'm glad we're both willing to put in the work and try to meet in the middle,” she said quietly.

He agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her breast.

As they stayed that way for a long time, Quinn felt cocooned in her love and hoped she felt the same.

“Okay,” she said a little while later, starting to feel sticky and itchy, “I’m sorry, but I really need to shower, or at least rinse off.”

They took a quick shower, and Quinn changed the fitted sheet as she redid her skincare.

When they finally fell asleep tangled together, she in a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, and he in his boxers, it was well after three.

After sleeping like the dead, Quinn woke close to ten, still feeling that strong swell of gratitude easing the disappointment in his chest.

If anyone in his family had heard them, they were all excellent actors, and didn't say a thing.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes smut #qh43 #jack hughes #luke hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey romance #hockey fic

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w2sarcher · 6 months

Text

a sunday kind of love | harry lewis

summary: y/n and harry's wholesome sunday together face claim: dua lipa

a/n: feel free to request anything harry lewis related!!! thinking about writing a longer fic instead of instagram au's soon so any ideas would be much appreciated <33

other stuff by me linked here: masterlist

- y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by chrismd10 and 650,242 others! y/n_username sunday mornings with my love tagged: wroetoshaw

...

w2sfan24 omg mother feeding us this sunday morning liked by y/n_username ♥️

anesongib looking good bogger

chrismd10 smash

behzingagram oh harry 🥵

ynw2slover this picture screams post shag

sidemenfan1 i'm so down bad for this man

arthurtv the man’s a greek god

tobjizzle harry is so clear

calfreezy lazy arse is always in bed

wroetoshaw posted an instagram story! y/n_username posted an instagram story!

story replies to wroetoshaw:

↳ calfreezy enough food to feed all 7 sidemen on that plate bog liked by wroetoshaw ♥️

↳ behzingagram must be bulking season with the size of that plate of food ↳ wroetoshaw big boys need food liked by behzingagram ♥️

y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by taliamar and 310,243 others! y/n_username lazy sundays tagged: wroetoshaw

...

taliamar such cuties

freyanightingale wholesome babes

ksi how many plants do you two need ↳ y/n_username always room for more jj

calfreezy that jumper is outrageous bog liked by y/n_username ♥️

callux rate the jumper bog

w2sfan3 love these two together

sidemenlover5 bet they're watching the new sidemen sunday ↳ y/n_username of course

w2slover the cutest couple to exist

sidemenw2s mum and dad 🥲

y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by faithlouiseak and 356,092 others! y/n_username strolling around the big city 🏙️ tagged : wroetoshaw

...

faithlouiseak adorable 💘

w2sfan y/n giving us harry pics on the daily i love her

ynlover coffee looks so good

w2synfanpage our parents looking so cute

calfreezy any further and bog would be swimming in the thames ↳ y/n_username i should of pushed him in

sideman2 i'd sell my soul if it meant spending a sunday with these two 😭

wroetoshaw posted an instragram story!

story replies to wroetoshaw:

↳ callux you're spoilt rotten liked by wroetoshaw ♥️

For Y/N and Harry, Sundays were sacred - a precious day of peace amidst the chaos of their busy lives. It was the one day of the week they cherished above all else, a day in which Harry had no sidemen shoots and Y/N wasn't stuck halfway across London in a studio working late nights recording songs.

Each Sunday morning, as the sun peeked through their shutter blinds, Y/N and Harry would wake up with a sense of anticipation and excitement. The pair would brew a pot of fragrant coffee (with some independent coffee beans that Harry had picked up on his travels), the rich aroma filling their cozy kitchen as Y/N started cooking up Harry's favourite breakfast, a full English.

With their cups of coffee in hand, they would retreat to their sunlit living room, adorned with plush sofas and soft blankets, and settle in for a day of relaxation. Cuddled up together on the sofa, their legs entwined, as they indulged in some of their favourite pastimes - watching random Youtube videos they had saved to their watch later or scrolling through Tiktok, showing each other silly videos that they knew the other would find hilarious.

As the morning turned to afternoon, Harry and Y/N would muster up the energy to venture outdoors for a leisurely stroll through quiet London streets, hand in hand, breathing in the crisp air. They would visit their favourite spots - Y/N dragging Harry into overpriced clothing boutiques, him following behind, arms crossed, pretending he didn't enjoy seeing her get excited over a questionable-looking pair of shoes. Not long after, Y/N would grow tired of shopping, squeezing Harry's arm to get his attention, ''I'm hungry again, '' she’d say, to which he'd roll his eyes but would rush to fish his phone out of his pocket to find a quaint cafe on Google Maps that she could have a pastry in.

Upon returning home, they would make a simple lunch together - a spread of sandwiches, salads and soup - which they would enjoy in the comfort of their small balcony attached to their flat. Even though it was small, Y/N had decorated it with some garden furniture, fairy lights and a few plants, transforming it into an oasis of greenery and comfort. Harry hated to admit it but she had a better eye for decorating than he did.

As the sun began to set and the sky turned shades of pink and orange, they would go back inside to cozy up on their sofa, covering one another with blankets. A warm glow on their faces as they shared stories of dreams they had the night before, their voices becoming hushed in the quiet of the evening.

When the series they were watching came to an end and stars emerged in the night sky outside, Harry and Y/N would retire to their bedroom, hearts full and bodies weary from a day spent in each other's company. The pair would fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms, grateful for the precious gift of Sundays - a day to relax and revel in the love they shared.

Ready to do it all again next week.

hollytoshaw : i'm obsessed with making these so hopefully you all enjoy them because i really enjoy making them <333

#harry lewis #w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #sidemen #harry lewis fic #harry w2s #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw oneshot #wroetoshaw imagine #harry wroetoshaw #hollytoshaw #sidemen x reader

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tallglasstea · 1 month

Text

Media N Basketball Part 1

Synopsis: The WNBA’s new Social Media Manager, Amara, heads to Seattle to help improve the Seattle Storms media pages. She has had a big crush on Gabby Williams but avoids her due to rumors that Gabby is dating Marine Johannes.

Please note: This takes place during the 2025 season and this is my first fic in yearsss. Forgive me if I am a bit rusty.

Thursday July 11, 2025

Third P.O.V

It’s almost the halfway point of the 2025 WNBA season and Amara couldn’t be more excited. She has officially been at the W for 9 months and has been having the time of her life. Still getting the hang of things, but overall she loves her coworkers and just the overall environment. Witnessing the 2025 draft and seeing all the college stars getting drafted and to just know that she was really a part of the big moment will always be a core memory for her.

Being based in NYC meant that she helped the Liberty, Sun, and Mystics a lot with their social media pages because she was so close. Providing a new and fresh outlook on their pages, the team's pages have grown exponentially. The Liberty has grown to 1.2 million on Tiktok and 2 Million on Instagram. The Sun to 600K on Tiktok and 400K on Instagram. The Mystics to 724K on Tiktok and 527K on Instagram. Teams immediately took notice of the newfound fanbases and the rest enlisted to have Amara flown out to help their teams.

Amara’s first stop would be Seattle Storm with her favorite (and closest) coworker Destiny. Despite having Jewell, Nneka and Nika, the Storm could not seem to grow their fan bases on social media. Amara couldn’t help but feel nervous as her personal celebrity crush was also on the Seattle Storm this season.

Amara’s P.O.V

“Gworllll are you excited to go to Seattle?!?” Destiny nudged Amara’s shoulder while they were settling on the plane to take off. “Your favorite girl is going to be there.”

“Pleaseeee stop. This is work, we need to stay professional.” I tried to keep my resolve but I couldn’t help to smile when thinking about my little crush. “Plus I heard that she is dating Marine Johannes so that dream is dead anyways.” Maybe if I said it enough then my little crush would fade away. ‘But she looked soo fine during the 2024 Olympics,’ I thought to myself.

“Mmchttt” Destiny rolled her eyes and rolled over to close her eyes. I was tired too and we had a long flight ahead of us, so I might as well get some rest.

Friday July 12, 2025

Destiny and I are headed to the Storm’s new practice facility, and my anxiety is through the roof. Not very demure nor mindful of me huh? I love working for the W but it’s still very nerve wracking having to meet new people and new teams. Especially women as tall and beautiful as them. I’m not short but I’m not exactly tall either, standing at a cool 5’6. I was so into my thoughts I didn’t even realize that destiny was talking to me until she started snapping in my face.

“Yoooooo is there anyone there? Bitch are you on autopilot?!” Destiny continuously snapping in my face. I mush her with my free hand. “Don’t snap at me! Anywhore what were you saying?” I asked. “What type of content are we starting with? Since we are almost there, I want to prepare,” she replied. Looking at the GPS, I realize that she is absolutely right. 2 minutes away. What if I crash this car right now? I'm kidding, I'm kidding (sort of, not really). I’m thinking what would be the best video to start showcasing their personalities. “I think we should do the rapid fire questions for each of the players. We should probably feel them out and kind of gauge what they are comfortable with answering and they aren’t,” I stated after a few beats. “ I call dibs on Nneka, Nika, Victoria, Mercedes, Joyner and Sami.” I wanted to make sure that I didn’t really have to interact with Gabby, my stalkerish ass could just admire her from a distance. Destiny looked at me bewildered as we pulled in front of the facility. “You evil bitch, I can’t believe you called dibs,” she laughed as we got out of the car.

The walk from the car ride to the main practice gym was short but felt like it took forever.

We had unloaded our equipment and were waiting outside the gym for the General managers and coaches. We, mainly I, didn’t want to just bust in on their practice while Destiny wanted to do exactly that. Once we introduced ourselves to the GMs and coaches, we told them our game plan for content. I took a deep breath, as the doors to the gym opened. Here goes nothing…..

To be continued….

Sooo what did we think? I know I’m rusty so don’t eat me up toooooooo bad. I was trying to make it short but I figured it would be better as a multi-part fic. Please let me know what y’all think! Since there was nothing not even hcs on Gabby I figured I would start some of my own.

If y’all like my writing style, I would like to open myself up to WNBA requests along with other womens sports.

Welp see ya soon bookies!

#wnba imagine #wbb #wnba basketball #uconn wbb #black reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #gabby williams #gabby williams x reader #seattle storm #wnba x reader #wnba #paige bueckers

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 7 months

Note

Hi! Can you please write part 3 of bale batman x assistant reader as his wife? And how he handles jealousy after their marriage? Thank you 😊

Hello!!

I actually wrote something about this a little while ago, but because I feel like just linking the post is a bit of an asshole move, I'll add some of my thoughts!

I hope that's okay <3

Here's my previous post :)

~Fi 🐝

(My inspiration for Bruce has been dwindling, I desperately need to watch the movies again)

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

He will always, ALWAYS call you his wife. More than your actual name. He has to keep reminding people that you're unavailable and that you're his and his alone. Bruce perks up immediately whenever your name is mentioned. He's policing all of his employees at this point lmao

maybe someone talks about you to a coworker about how innovative you're thinking for the company is, that you're kind and exactly what this industry needs and Bruce just pops up out of nowhere like "who are you talking about? Hm? Oh, my beautiful, amazing, perfect wife? I couldn't agree more."

He gets so stealthy after being in the batman business that he scares them half to death because he's just there all of a sudden. After hearing some of the complaints the employees make (you're not at work as often anymore after Bruce insisted you focus on some hobbies instead) you're seriously contemplating putting a little bell on him just so you don't have to worry about anyone getting a heart attack.

He always has to be touching you in some kind of way. His go to is a hand on the small of your back or on your thigh when you're sitting down, he loves holding your hand, too. His thumb will brush over the cool metal of your wedding band and it puts his mind at ease.

Every single employee knows not to flirt with you, even as a joke. Not after Jake suddenly disappeared after Bruce caught him sweet talking you... (he may have a received a strongly worded letter from his landlord ((Bruce)) and, what do you know, for some reason, any other living opportunity in Gotham is unavailable right now)

He brings you flowers at least once a week (or until the ones he gifted you before can't hold their own anymore and wilt). They're always fragrant and bright in color, whatever is in season right now. And they stand nicely on your desk in a beautiful crystal vase that catches the light perfectly. He catches himself looking at them more than he he would like to admit.

Or, more specifically, he wants to see if he can catch you admiring them. He's gotten a new appreciation for these small things since you came into his life. They way you cup the delicate blossom and inhale its sweet scent is a picture he will dream of forever.

Bruce makes sure that you're only addressed as Mrs. Wayne (unless it's someone close like Luscius or a very nice coworker of yours) making it clear to everyone, again, that you're his. He gifts you a necklace with his name on it, which you wear proudly, and Bruce can't help but grin when he sees his name glint in the sunlight against your skin.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm so sorry for kinda half-assing my Bruce posts lately, but I can barely write anymore 😭

I usually write at night but I'm tired then too so I'm like "Oh, I'll just write during the day." BUT GUESS WHAT I'M ALSO TIRED DURING THE DAY

Fucking iron deficiency istg

I basically sleep all the time and when I do write, it's not a lot bc I'm literally falling sleep halfway through so yeah

#bumblebeesfromvenus #bale!bruce x reader #bale!bruce wayne smut #bale!bruce wayne #bale!bruce wayne x reader #bale!batman x reader #christian bale #bruce wayne x reader #the dark knigth rises #dark knight trilogy #nolanverse

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railleriee · 2 years

Text

Bungou Stray Dogs Men with a S/o that has an Animal Ability:

This was just something I whipped up! I also edited my layout! lmk what u think! Still some add-ons and fixes I need to do but I'm really liking it so far! Without further ado, enjoy :) -spence

(I may make a second part to this if it does well.)

Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, Kunikida, Ranpo, Akutagawa, Atsushi

Warnings: Slight nsfw halfway through Kunikida's part, but for the most part it's fluff!

Reader is non-gender specific!

Dazai:

S/o with a dog ability!

We all know he hates dogs

So after finding out about your ability, long after the relationship had begun, he was quite thrown off.

I’d like to think he doesn’t show any fear towards your ability, although he’s secretly terrified.

Rants to kunikida, even asks for advice on the situation.

( Has never seen said ability in person, just knows from stories you’ve told him. )

You try convincing him that your ability isn’t that scary, that all that happens is you turn into an adorable puppy! ( Your ability isn’t well created for combat. )

Couldn’t help but stare in awe as a little fluffy animal appears in front of him.

Screams like a little girl when you try to approach him.

Has his arms held out in front of him, eyes squeezed shut as you nudge up and down his bandaged arms.

He eventually gets warmed up to the little fur-ball constantly around him now!

Shows off to the ADA his “major” improvement towards your ability as he picks up the newly turned dog.

Everyone stared at him with a “seriously?” look across their faces.

Still startled when coming home to find a little puppy laying on his bed!

He secretly got over his “fear” of dogs a little while ago, although claims he’s still frightened to tease you.

He’s like a puppy, he’s always all over you, littering you with kisses.

Chuuya:

S/o with a Red Panda Ability!

He ADORES your ability.

Walking into the PM to see a Red Panda wandering around one Saturday afternoon was not what he expected, although he wasn’t too bothered with it.

Thought it was some pet Mori bought to please Elise.

Soon finds out it’s not some pet, but the new recruit.

The two of you instantly became close after Dazai left the PM, soon developing into something more.

You tend to have the mannerism of a Red Panda, he’s always sure to cater to any needs!

Makes sure to find the best, high quality, expensive bamboo he can to satisfy said mannerisms and tendencies.

He’s a big whiny baby who refuses to fall asleep (some nights) with you unless you are in panda form.

Enjoys the warmth, and softness of your fur!

Finds you to be the cutest thing he’s ever witnessed, I think he’d honestly prefer you to stay as the red fluff ball forever.

Kunikida:

S/o with a Fennec Fox Ability!

He’s honestly not bothered by it much, see’s it as any other ability.

Can often be easily annoyed by how playful you are.

You’re very talkative and active, often tiring him out while he’s trying to focus on work.

He also is very tentative to your needs.

Understands your ability to easily be scared, always is able to calm any anxious jitters!

Just like fennec foxes, you hate being held, touched, any of the sorts, he knows better to push those buttons, no matter how badly he wants to cuddle after a long day at the agency!

( You do often allow him to hold you upon seeing how exhausted he is! )

Nsfw (ish) Below !

January-February is mating season for Fennec Foxes, Kunikida has the dates marked in his calendar!

Your sex drive goes up incredibly.

Ensure to take a little bit of time off to help with your needs.

100% willing to partake in anything to help you feel relieved!

Will go round-after-round for you <3

Secretly enjoys Fennec Fox mating season, stress relief for both of you!

Ranpo:

S/o with a lamb ability!

ADORES how fluffy and cute you are.

I imagine the ability to cause disorientation and confusion on basic topics.

He’s very understanding and talks through everything with you!

Many lamb mannerisms and tendencies, often ask questions on why he doesn’t eat greens like you!

Tries to feed you sweets 24/7.

Gets scolded by Kunikida because your digestive system can’t handle such foods.

Tries to encourage your interactions with others as the result of knowing how shy you tend to be.

Immediately sticks up for you against Dazai’s teasing.

JEALOUS!

Someone tries to pat your head? Expect him to plan their death.

Someone tries to make flirty remarks? He’s throwing himself at you.

So protective of your innocence :(

He’s genuinely a really sweet s/o, always thinking of his partner and making sure they are okay. <3

Akutagawa:

S/o with a Sea Otter Ability!

Shocked with how much energy you have, Sea Otters have a ton of energy, didn’t expect for it to rub off on your actual personality!

VERY social!

It’s a, you talk, he listens, relationship.

People often question your relationship as the two of you are total opposites.

I feel like he hates water, idk why he just does.

So when he found out about your love for water he internally scolds himself.

You two take baths together!

(Enjoys when you wash his hair.)

He struggles to express his emotions 99.9% of the time, unlike you.

He gets easily flustered at your ability to compliment him with such ease!

You’re very touchy, another shock for him.

He’s not used to physical affection, so when you randomly grab his hand while out in public, he tenses up.

In private he’s super sweet and tends to any of your needs!

A relationship with him is a learning process, but he’s trying his best. <3

Atsushi:

S/o with a sloth ability.

He genuinely has a bunch of energy, so having a s/o with the ability of an animal so sleepy he doesn’t know how to handle himself at first.

Should he ask you to hangout? Should he invite you to movies with Kenji?

He soon finds out you’d love to do anything with him, just to be patient with you.

Often has to catch you when you fall asleep standing up.

Work for you takes quite a long time, he often insists he helps you!

Startles every time he comes back to his dorm to see you asleep on a support beam.

( Often has to help you down from the high places you get stuck in. )

Like sloths, some of your actions and thinking are rather slow!

He waits patiently while waiting for an answer, or anything for that matter.

He knows not to rush you, knowing you get upset thinking you aren’t trying hard enough!

Enjoys napping with you SO much.

Poor baby goes through so much, sometimes he just wants to curl up and sleep with you in his arms.

#bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs fluff #bsd fluff #bsd x reader #bsd smut #atsushi x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #kunikida x reader #ranpo x reader #atsushi fluff #dazai fluff #chuuya fluff #kunikida fluff #ranpo fluff #akutagawa fluff

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nyasiaaaaa · 8 months

Text

In the Bleak Mid-Winter

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse) Fem reader x Arthur ( platonic )

Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff ,Tommy Shelby, y/n eats ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) Major character death from season 4 episode like 1/2

A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 part 5

********************

It's been a year.

A lot of things have changed since then; you've changed.

You're not the same person you were a year ago; you're still a nurse and still work in the hospital, but in London now.

You know the other nurse in hospital like the last, you eat lunch together but never go out. They always ask, but you always have the same excuse.

It's not like you're lying. You really don't have anyone to watch her, but if you wanted to, you could find someone, but don't. Honestly, though, you prefer the company of a bottle of whiskey over anyone else.

You also never have the energy to do anything anymore; you wake up throughout the night, then wake up to go to work, come home tired from a 12-hour shift, and go to sleep to do it all over again.

You barely eat, you barely sleep.

When you look in the mirror, you're just a hollow version of yourself, like you don't have control over your body. You're just sitting back as it goes through the motions, as someone else controls you.

She's not the only reason you can't sleep; if she's not waking you up because of her screams, you're waking yourself up with your own.

These nightmares are so haunting that most times, after you wake up, you just stay up.

And that's where you're at now, waking up from a dream like every other night.

You thrash around in your bed and suddenly wake up coughing as you grab hold of your throat. You get up from your bed, covered in sweat, and walk downstairs to the kitchen, rubbing your chest as you catch your breath.

You walk around the corner to the kitchen and instantly jump when you see someone sitting at your table in the dark. The old you would've freaked, grabbed your gun and threatened them.

But you now couldn't care less; you just grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey off the drink table. You bring it over and set it down, pouring the whiskey into each cup, filling it halfway, and then sliding one over to your companion.

You then sit down and take a swing of your drink before reaching for your pack of cigarettes.

"Want one," you ask, holding a cig out to them.

They take it, and you pull out one more for yourself; you then strike up a match, reaching towards them to light theirs first; once they got closer to the flame, it became clear who was sitting at this table with you.

You light the cigarette, then pull the match to light your own; you take a drag, hold it in, and then blow it out. You do this action a couple more times, and neither of you says a word as you smoke; you both just sit there in silence.

You finish up your cig, put it out in the ashtray, then proceed to light another. Again, you smoke in silence, but this time, as you're almost finished with your cig, you speak up.

"I thought you would've sent Micheal," You say as you reach to ash your cig in the ashtray.

He finishes up his cig, putting it out before responding to you. "He was busy," he shrugs.

"'M honestly, I would've preferred Micheal." You put your cig out and then took a sip of your drink.

"Well, looks like you're out of luck 'cause I'm here."

"Yes, you are; please do tell me why it is that you're here after all this time."

"We got served a black hand," he spoke with such seriousness, but you were confused.

"Ok, am I supposed to know what that means or what it has to do with me"

He took a deep breath and said, "We have to tighten house. We killed one of theirs way back, and now they're coming to get even."

You pursed your lips and turned your head to the side, slightly shrugging your shoulders. "And what does that have to do with me."

"They killed John."

"May he rest in peace? "even though you didn't mean for it to, it had come out more like a question than a statement.

"But again, what does this have to do with me," you asked

He let out a dry laugh, licking his lips, then got up and got in your face. He took hold of your wrist and bent down to your height.

"Because the Italian Mafia doesn't care if you don't fuck with me, they are going to kill everyone that has ever spoken to me, anyone who's ever been close to me to hurt me to break me down before killing me."

Even though he tried to seem calm and collected, you couldn't see it in his eyes or face, but you could hear it in his voice.

He was hurting.

You ripped your wrist from his grip and stood up, moving closer to him and getting in his face.

"Well, Tommy, it seems like you have a real problem on your hands; best of luck to you." You smiled at him, then stood up and began to walk away

Suddenly, you were pushed against the wall and turned to face him.

"Look, I—"his speech was cut short once he heard a cry coming from upstairs; his eyes darted down to you, his head tilted as he looked at you.

"Tommy, I-"you start but stop once Tommy pushes off you.

You tried to get past him to go up the steps first, but he pulled out a gun on you and pushed you back into the kitchen. He slowly took a step back as you took steps forward.

"Do it, Do it, Tommy. Be a man. Do it," You said as you walked forward; you held your head high as you spoke so there was no room for doubt on Tommy's part.

He looked at you, puzzled, then shut the door in your face. You immediately rushed to the door, but it was too late. He locked it. You tightened your grip on the door knob as you jiggled it relentlessly,

"Tommy…. Fuck— Tommy, please" You were starting to panic; you had to get to her first.

You dashed over to the drawers and started to throw everything out and slam it shut as you moved on to the next one. The key was in one of these drawers; it had to be you had remembered putting it in here you—

You found it in the last drawer; you ran over to the door but slipped on the things you had thrown on the floor and fell on your back, making the key fall out of your hand. You hop on your knees, ignoring the pain in your back that grew with every move you made as you searched the now messy floor for the key; you can already barely see because of the darkness, but the tears that start to build only make it worse.

Your hand brushed against something sharp, and you turned your head in its direction as you stretched your hand out again, patting it around. Your hand instantly comes in contact with the cold metal key. You grab it, rushing to the door. You try to place the key in the door, but it keeps brushing past the hole.

You stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again, and despite your shaking hand, you were able to place the key in and unlock the door. As soon as the door opens, you ran up the step to her room.

It's too late.

You walk into the room and see Tommy holding your daughter in his hands.

Without thinking, you say, "She's not yours."

It's a lie, you know it, and so does he. Anyone could see from a mile away that she was his, and it's not like she looked like him or you even; she was still too young to look like anyone. But she had those eyes, the same eyes her father had.

You look up at Tommy and know you are in trouble. He had just met her, and already he was in love. He was already hell-bent on taking you with him, but now that he knew of her, there was no way he was letting y'all go.

You're about to speak up but get cut off by some men behind you.

"We're here, Mr.Shebly. What do you want us to do?"

You didn't turn around to see if you knew the men; you just kept your eyes forced ahead on Tommy.

"Pack up the house, everything; we'll go through it later and see what we want." He barely spoke above a whisper and never looked up as he slowly rocked your baby back and forth.

"Oi sir and your car is ready when you are."

"Thank you, curly."

They left, leaving you and Tommy alone.

You opened your mouth to speak but didn't know what to say, so you stood there like a gaping fish as you struggled to find words.

"It doesn't matter what you say; tonight, you will leave here with me, and so will the baby. You can put up a fight, but we will drug you if we must." The way he spoke, you knew he meant it; there would not be a fight, you couldn't take on Tommy, let alone all the men downstairs.

So you just nodded your head, ok.

Satisfied with your answer, he proceeded to exit the room but then stopped and turned towards you.

"What's her name," he asks.

"Ruby"

"Ruby," He whispers, "Hi. Ruby, grab what you want and meet me in the car," He says, then leaves and goes downstairs.

You want to cry, tear the room to pieces, throw a fit, and just sit there and cry. But you can't, so you make yourself and your daughter a travel bag, packing only what you need and leaving the rest for the guys to pack up.

You finish packing and head upstairs; you walk past the men packing up your kitchen and head straight for the car. Once you're outside, you see a man waiting for you by the backseat door; he opens it for you as you approach it. You walk up to him, handing off your luggage, giving him a smile, and thanking him before sliding in next to Tommy, who's still holding your daughter tight to his chest.

The driver places your stuff in the trunk, runs over to the driver's side, and hops in, wasting no time. He takes off instantly, driving to a destination unknown to you.

You glance over at Tommy, who is still in awe at seeing your daughter. You don't even try to take your baby away from Tommy, knowing that he will hold her as long as he can.

So you sit there staring out the window, saying goodbye to the place you've called home for the past year, and try not to cry.

************************

For a long time, you were confused; you knew this wasn't the way to Tommy's house. It was east, and you had been heading west. You were about to ask where you were going, but then you started to recognize your surroundings, the shops you've walked past hundreds if not thousands of times. You even saw some people you knew past patients.

You were back in Birmingham.

Soon after you cross the line into Birmingham, it doesn't take long for you to reach your destination; you pull up next to many small townhomes.

Before you get the chance, your door is opened for you, thanking the driver as you step out and observe your surroundings.

"Where are we, Tommy," you ask.

"We're home," he says simply, then starts making his way into one of the homes.

You follow closely behind him as he steps into the house; you take in your new surroundings as you follow him; there are steps directly in front of you and a living room to your right that leads Into a kitchen. As soon as you step into the living room following Tommy, you're greeted by a maid who cut you off as you are about to ask Tommy another question.

"Welcome back, Mr. Shebly. I set Charlie down for a nap upstairs a few minutes ago and just put dinner in the oven. Do you need anything else from me before I go"

"No, Mary, that will be all thank you."

"It's not a problem, Mr.Shelby," she said, then went to leave but suddenly stopped at the door. "Oh, and I've had a bassinet put upstairs per your request." She gave both of you a tight smile, shutting the door as she exits, leaving you and Tommy alone.

Tommy doesn't say a word as he turns away from you and walks upstairs; you're about to start looking around when a knock comes at the door. You get to the front to open it and is greeted by the driver, who has your bags in hand. You reach out, taking them from his hands and setting them to the side before giving him a smile.

"Thank you so much; hold on, let me find my purse to pay you," you say as you step away from him in search of your bags.

The driver quickly stops you in your tracks when he calls after you using a name you've never heard associated with you.

"Oi, that's quite alright, Mrs.Shebly; Tommy pays me good," he said, giving you a smile, then shuts the door before you could even correct him.

"Ok," you say yourself as you shrug it off; you turn around just in time to see Tommy walking down the step, and you notice that your daughter is no longer in his hand. You assumed he must've put her down upstairs in the crib Mary set up.

Once he gets down the steps, he immediately makes his way toward the Living room. He sits down in one of the chairs, and you decide to take a seat across from him.

He pulls out his pack of cigs, offers you one, which you accept, and then takes one for himself. His lights yours first, then his own. You take a couple drags of your cig, then begin asking him a million questions you have swimming around in your head.

"How long do we have to stay here," you ask as you blow out smoke and then take another drag.

He shrugs his shoulders as he waves his hand around in no particular manner, "for however long it takes."

You press your lips tightly and roll your eyes; you take a deep breath and let it out as you speak again, "Are we staying here with you."

"Yeah"

"Is it safe?"

"Yeah, you will have two guards stationed outside 24/7."

"And where will you be?"

"Out"

"So Tommy, let me get this straight: I'm supposed to stay here for who knows how long, under constant surveillance from your men, and I'm assuming I'm not allowed to leave." You paused, waiting for an answer, to which he gave you a slight nod back. "Right, so basically, I'm a prisoner; I'm your prisoner. I'm not ok with that, Tommy. I-"

Arthur suddenly burst through your door, calling out for Tommy.

"Oi Tommy, I- "Arthur paused once his eyes landed on you; a big smile slowly crept up his face as he started making his way towards you.

"Sista, it's good to see you," Arthur said as he hugged you, picking you up slightly.

"It's good to see you too...... I'm so sorry about John," you said as you hugged him back, and you were being honest. You didn't miss anything from your old life, but Arthur. After all the years, y'all were around each other. He truly started to feel like the brother you never had.

Arthur pulled back from you slightly and looked you in the eyes; you gave him a tight smile, then pulled him back closer and hugged him tighter.

Arthur pulled back again as he asked you a question, "Oi, I heard I had a niece. Where she."

Before you were able to answer his question, Tommy interrupted you.

"Are you two finished yet" You heard Tommy ask from behind you, making Arthur drop you.

"Sorry, Tommy," he chuckled as he stepped further from you. "There's been an incident down at the boat house; we need you down there."

"Thank you, Arthur; I'll meet you outside," Tommy said, then went into the kitchen to gather his things.

Arthur gave you a small smile and whispered a quick bye before heading outside.

You turn to face Tommy, who is putting on his coat; you see his collar sticking up, so you go over to him to help him fix it. You grab onto the jacket and pull him in close to you.

"When will you be back?" You ask as you pat down his collar.

"When I'm finished"

"That's not cool, Tommy; we have things we need to talk about." You grab on his collar and tighten.

He gave you a look that you could only describe as assumed, then pulled you off him, holding your wrist in his hands.

"And we will when I get back," he said, dropping your wrist and walking away. He suddenly stopped and turned around to face you. "Watch Charlie for me," He said with a tight smile, then reached for the door.

You are so fed up with his bullshit that you pick up the first thing your hands touched and throw it at him.

"Fuck you, Tommy" You screamed at him as the glass cup left your hands.

Your aim is ass, so the cup smashed against the wall next to him, missing him by a couple feet. But still, it stopped him in his tracks; he stood there for a second, then turned around to face you, gave you a smug smile, then said

"You already did love."

He quickly went to the door, leaving you there standing there stunned.

You're so mad at him for coming into your life (again), picking you up, and dragging you into his mess (again). He constantly treats you like gum on the bottom of his shoe, and you're tired of it.

You have this anger building up inside you; you're so mad, so you do the only thing you can think of.

You scream.

You stand there and scream; you yell out towards the ceiling; you scream till your lungs start to burn. And then you collapse onto the floor.

How did you end up here again? You thought you finally got away from this life.

Before you had a chance to wallow in your self-pity, you heard a cry come from upstairs. You get slowly and make your way up the narrow stairs. Once you get upstairs, you notice there are only two rooms upstairs, one the bathroom and the other the bedroom.

You enter the bedroom and see Charlie still fast asleep on the bed, the only bed, you might add. Your baby cried from her bassinet, and you went over, picking her up and rocked her back and forth in her arms. She must've heard your scream and got startled. You were really loud; you're shocked that Charlie didn't wake up.

You were able to get her back to sleep quite quickly; you placed her back in her bassinet and walked out the door back downstairs.

As you walked down the steps, you started to sniff the air around you; it smelled like something was burning.

You took off sprinting towards the kitchen once you remembered the dinner Mary said she had placed in the oven. You yanked the oven open and reached in to take the pan out.

You jump back, saying a million curse words as you immediately pull your thumb in your mouth. You are so out of it that you forgot an oven mitt. You suck on your thumb for a couple of more seconds as you glance around the kitchen till your eyes land on the oven mitt. You grab them off the counter, head back to the oven, and pull the pot, placing it on the top of the stove.

You open the pot, and to your surprise, it's a chicken roast dinner, and it's not that burnt, only a bit; really, it just looks extra crispy.

You place the top back on and glance down at the clock next to the stove; it's barely a quarter past three.

You decide to let the meal cool down, you get your bag from the door, and put it up where you see best upstairs.

After you finished unpacking what you had on hand, you pre-made a couple of bottles for your daughter and then joined Charlie in the bed for a little nap after scooting him over a bit.

That boy sleeps wild.

***********************

You felt yourself being shaken back and forth softly as if it was too hard for the person to push you. You open your eyes slowly and squint as they try to adjust to the dark; you look around the room in search of the person who worked you up, and soon, your eyes land on the smaller version of Thomas Shelby.

The little boy turned his head to the side as she looked at you curiously.

You sat up on your elbows and took a quick glance over to the clock next to you; it was seven on the dot. You turned back and looked over at Charlie, who was still looking at you.

"Yes, Charlie," you asked.

"I'm hungry; where, Da," he asked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

"He's out right now; I'm here. Is that ok," you asked; he nodded slowly in response.

"Ok, good, I have some food downstairs for you; we just have to get the baby up and well go, ok."

"Baby?"

"Yeah, come look." You stood up, grabbed him, placed him on your hip, and showed him the baby below.

"Who that"

You thought about your answer before you responded to him. You didn't see the harm in telling him the truth, so you said, "She's your sister; her name is Ruby."

He turned up to look at you so quick that you thought he gave himself whiplash.

"My sista," he gasped and then tried to reach down to touch her.

"Yep, but wait, be careful, I'll put you down, and I'll grab her and show you."

You put him down softly and then pick up your little girl; she begins to stir as you gently pick her up. You turned to see Charlie sitting waiting patiently with his feet swinging off the side of the bed.

You sat down next to him and turned your body to face him; he glanced down at the baby, up at you, and down at the baby again.

"Wow!" He said, then jumped down from the bed and took hold of your hand.

"Come on, me and baby hungry," he said, leading you downstairs.

Once you got downstairs, you had him sit at the small table in the kitchen, and you kept Ruby in your arms as you fixed him a plate and then yourself. You warmed both plates on the stove and grabbed a pre-made bottle from the fridge while you waited.

You sat down next to Charlie and offered him a proposition: "You want to feed her with me."

He shook his head up and down so fast and tried to reach out to her.

You pulled away from him slightly. "Wait, I'll hold her, and you hold the bottle, ok?"

He nodded and waited for you to give him the bottle; you showed him how to hold the bottle at an angle best for the baby and then let him take over.

He reached over you slightly as he held the bottle to Ruby, and she took it instantly, drinking fast.

After she was finished, you took her back upstairs to sleep; when you came back down, your food was finished warming, so you took both your plates out and cut up the food for him before handing it to him.

Together, y'all both sat at the table and ate in silence.

"Are you my new ma"

The piece of chicken you placed in your mouth instantly went down the wrong pipe, and you started to cough, your eyes began to water as your chest tightened. You reach for your glass of water on the table as you beat against your chest.

As you drank your water, you glanced over at Charlie, who had started playing with his food. You cleared your throat a couple of times as you rubbed against it and drank more water, then set the cut back down next to your plate.

You smack your lips against your teeth as you begin to speak. "Umm, w-what makes you uhhh what makes you say that."

Charlie shrugged his causal shoulders, still glancing down at his food. "You're staying here with me and da; you sleep in the same bed as me and da and your baby’s ma."

You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled look dancing across your face; you leaned down closer to Charlie and asked him a question, "You're four right."

"Yep," he said, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.

"Um, yeah, no, Charlie, I'm not your "new" ma, and if I was, I wouldn't be your new ma, just another one, ok. Cause you ma Grace will always be your ma."

He didn't say anything back to you, just nodded back slowly; it was clear that he was full now and probably was sleepy again. You assumed that you both had a long day of travel and these significant changes would take a second to get used to.

You took both plates away, deciding that you were also finished eating; you quickly cleaned the plates and placed them in the drying rack. After you put the pot of food in the fridge, you pick Charlie up, take him upstairs with you.

By the time your foot hit the last step, Charlie was somehow fast asleep; you brought him into the bedroom and carefully placed him down in the middle of the bed. You grab the covers, bring them over his body, and tuck him in slightly.

After you check on your baby and find her still fast asleep. You decide to go back downstairs and sit in the living room to wait for Tommy; he should be home soon; he has been gone for hours now. Whatever he had to work on should be done by now……. Right?

You feel your oxygen supply getting cut off, and you start to struggle to breathe; you try to turn your head but to no avail because whatever's is on top of you is keeping you in place.

You begin to panic as you realize that you are asleep and have to force yourself away to be able to deal with whatever is keeping you from breathing.

You feel your fingers begin twitching, then your eyes, and finally, after what seems like forever, you're able to open your eyes.

You squint your eyes as you try to help them adjust to the darkness, but it's still pitch black; you soon realize that the reason you can't see isn't because it's dark but because something lays on top of you.

You lift your hand cautiously as you slowly lift Charlie's body off your head and back into the middle.

You lay there for a second as you try to catch your breath, then slowly, you sit up to check on your daughter, seeing as she has yet to wake you for a bottle tonight. You take a quick peek over into her bassinet.

She's not there.

You quickly shoot up in a panic, thinking your eyes are playing jokes on you, but once you get closer to the bassinet, you can confirm that she is not in there.

You try to take deep to calm yourself down, but it gets caught in your throat as you slowly begin to spiral, and your mind starts to race with a million questions.

Where is she?

How could I not hear someone take her?

When did I get up here?

Wait, you pause for a second and try to think back to tonight. You didn't get in the bed. You remember waiting on the couch for Tommy; you must've fallen asleep, but how did you get up here?

Your head quickly pans over your shoulder, and in the bed next to Charlie, you see Tommy and your daughter lying on his chest and a half-empty bottle on the nightstand next to him.

Relief floods your body as you slowly sit back down on the bed; you look back over at Tommy. The sight before you is truly something; if Tommy wasn't the devil reincarnated, it might make your heart swell. But instead, you're sitting there contemplating whether or not to get her off him and place her back in her bed.

She seems fine, and there isn't much room for her or Tommy to roll around plus the risk of having to deal with her waking up in a sour mood if you move her isn't something you feel like doing right now.

You lay back in bed next to Charlie, deciding to leave them be.

As you fall back to sleep, instead of counting sheep, you tell yourself repeatedly.

That this is just for now and that

Thomas Shelby is in your past and not your future.

***********************

Tag list:

@thhriller@macchiadinchiostro @naevisct @johnmurphys-sass @fannibalsrule @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @sis7890

I apologize if y/n having a kid is a huge turn-off for some people, mainly because there isn't any warning, and we're so deep into the story. I wanted it to be a surprise, but again, I'm sorry. Also, this isn't the last part. There are two more, and then that's it; I broke it down because I felt like having everything In one or two parts would've made it seem like Y/n and Tommy's end result would become too quick and not in a organic way. Also, I've been told this story gives dead doves don't cry or something like that; it's not, I promise, a happy end or as happy as person can be with Thomas Shelby. Anyways, thanks for reading. The story should be finished and fully uploaded all parts by Friday, Feb 9th.

P.S: I can't tell if this chapter is shitty or not I was just trying to get it out for yall so I'm sorry if it is.

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #michael gray #polly gray #ada shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x y/n

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folkloregirlfriend · 1 month

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as you promised me that i was more than all the miles combined you must have had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign, kept on driving straight and left our future to the right now i'm stuck between my anger and the blame that i can't face and memories are something even smoking weed does not replace and i am terrified of weather cause i see you when it rains, doc told me to travel but there's covid on the planes and i love vermont but it's the season of the sticks and i saw your mom she forgot that i existed and it's half my fault but i just like to play the victim i'll drink alcohol till my friends come home for christmas and i'll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes and i'm split in half but that'll have to do. so i thought if i piled something good on all my bad i could cancel out the darkness i inherited from dad no i'm no longer funny cause i miss the way you laugh, once called me forever now you still can't call me back and i love vermont but it's the season of the sticks and i saw your mom she forgot that i existed and it's half my fault but i just like to play the victim i'll drink alcohol till my friends come home for christmas and i'll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes and i'm split in half but that'll have to do. my other half was you, i hope this pain's just passing through but i doubt it. and i love vermont but it's the season of the sticks and i saw your mom she forgot that i existed and it's half my fault but i just like to play the victim i'll drink alcohol till my friends come home for christmas and i'll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes and i'm split in half but that'll have to do

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f1-stuff · 1 month

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Girl dad Carlos please! I miss that fic so much 🥲

Okay. So.

I mustered up the energy to write a little vignette of this AU bc I also miss it and bc I didn't want to leave you two hanging! This is skipping ahead quite a bit to halfway through the season, but I'm still planning on writing and fleshing out that portion. I've just known for a while that this was gonna be an important part of the story and that I could jump into writing it right away!

It will probably be edited and adjusted for when the actual chapter is posted on ao3, but this is the 'rough draft' I guess! (Disclaimer: I know zero French and I haven’t had someone look over that bit yet!)

Anyway, enjoyyyy...

When there’s a knock on his door about two weeks into the summer break, his brain doesn’t compute for a full minute after he’s opened it.

Because why would Charles, his teammate, be here? In Spain? At his apartment? During their summer holiday, when they’re supposed to be ignoring any and all people and things related to F1, recharging their batteries, and remembering there’s more to life than racing cars? He and Charles have barely ever even texted during the summer break, let alone seen one another. So, again, why would Charles be at his front door.

Also, he’s a bit sleep deprived and delirious, so there’s every chance he’s hallucinating this.

“Uh...” he says, rather eloquently.

“Hey,” Charles says. And there’s a tentative smile on his face that Carlos can’t even begin to parse the meaning of. His brain isn’t just one step behind, it’s five steps. “Can...I come in?”

“Oh.” Again. Eloquent, Sainz. “Eh- yeah. Yes. Come in.”

“Sorry to stop by without a warning,” Charles is saying. But Carlos is too busy looking around in barely disguised panic at the absolute trash heap that is his home.

It’s not that he didn’t realize how much of a mess the apartment was before, but he sees it now through Charles’ eyes and feels a little like curling up and dying. There are bowls of half eaten food and dirty dishes piled in and around the sink. Various toys, games, books, and drawings are strewn over almost every surface, along with clothes (mostly socks, so many socks) littering the floor. Boxes and boxes of Lucy’s things that he hasn’t had time to sort through are stacked against the walls and in the corners. One of the only exposed walls by the couch has colorful marker all over it, Ana having done that particular masterpiece when he’d accidentally nodded off during Peppa Pig. (He’d been too tired to even properly get angry about it, which was perhaps a bad precedent to set if he didn’t want a repeat performance.)

It looks like a tornado has swept through his apartment. A tornado named Ana.

Not that Charles is much neater on a good day, and he doesn’t even have a kid as an excuse. But Carlos has a feeling that if this is the current state of his apartment, the state of his own appearance is probably no better. He hasn’t properly showered, shaved, or slept in days, and he doesn’t think he’s looked in the mirror in all that time either. For all he knows, he’s still got remnants of the braids Ana put in his hair yesterday. He certainly can’t remember taking them out...

Charles, on the other hand, looks fresh and groomed and sunkissed - everything Carlos would expect during the summer break.

He smells good, he thinks, unbidden. Then, immediately, Stop it.

Charles takes in the space around them, his eyes eventually settling on Carlos with an amused (and maybe slightly concerned) expression. But just as he’s opening his mouth to speak, there’s the sound of the bathroom door opening down the hall and the smattering of tiny feet running across the floor, before Ana declares in her tiny, yet surprisingly bold voice, “I didn’t have a diarrhea!”

Carlos doesn’t even have enough shame left to be embarrassed by his kid. His first instinct is just relief.

“Stomach virus,” he mumbles to Charles, by way of explanation. Then, to Ana, in Spanish, “That’s great, mi niña! Did you wash your hands?”

“Yeeeees!”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Good, because we, eh- we have a guest!”

It’s quiet for a moment, before Ana’s head pokes around the corner slowly. But her face lights up as soon as she sees who it is.

“Cha!” she shouts, but then immediately looks embarrassed by her own show of excitement.

“Coucou, Ana,” Charles says, amused. He kneels down and encourages Ana closer, accepting the tentative hug she gives him.

No matter how much they had bonded last time, it’s still been a while since they’ve seen one another, and some of Ana’s shyness has clearly returned. Still, it’s huge that she’s even initiated a hug, and Carlos feels a telltale twinge in his sternum at the image they both make.

“As-tu été bon pour papa?” Charles asks, cuffing her gently on the chin. Ana grins and nods. “J'ai un cadeau pour toi.”

Charles reaches into a bag that Carlos hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying until he’d set it down to hug Ana, and he pulls out a pink rectangular thing, that Carlos squints in confusion at for a beat. He realizes what it is simultaneously with Charles’ next words.

“C'est une caméra. Pour que tu prennes des photos de ton papa.”

It’s a pink camera for kids, a unicorn adorning the front where the lens peeks out. Carlos almost rolls his eyes - of course Charles, with his recent photography kick, gifts his kid a camera. But the way Ana’s expression transforms with wonder as Charles demonstrates to her how it works is pretty precious.

Charles hands it over to her and she immediately points it at him. He pulls a silly expression, making her giggle. They both examine the photo, heads bowed close. Ana points it up at Carlos next.

“¡Sonríe, papá!”

He sticks out his tongue and her little finger presses the capture button. The joy on her face as the photo pops up on the screen, tilting it to show them even though it’s upside down, fills Carlos with so much warmth and love that he legitimately almost tears up.

God, he’s so freaking tired.

Ana bounds off to her room to gather her stuffed toys to take a ‘family picture,’ and Charles straightens back up, smile lingering on his cheeks even after Ana has disappeared down the hall.

Carlos wants to kiss him so bad. Becoming a father has turned him into such a sap.

“Ehm,” he clears his throat. “Thank you. That was- a nice gift.”

“No problems.”

“You know, you don’t have to buy her something every time you see her,” he says, humor lacing his words.

“I want to,” Charles insists, simply. They smile awkwardly for an extended beat, listening to the sounds of Ana down the hall in her room, talking to her animals. Charles’ eyes stray to his hair. “You have...something in your hair. Is that a braid-?”

“What are you doing here, Charles?” he asks, choosing to ignore the comment. “I thought you would be in Corsica, or somewhere.”

“I was. But I heard you and Ana had to cancel on the trip to Mallorca and-”

“Heard, how?” Charles looks sheepish, triggering his suspicion. So he repeats it. “Heard, how, Charles?”

“Your mum texted me-”

He sighs, eyes shutting briefly in frustration. He wishes his mom would just stay out of this whole- thing with Charles. But, clearly, she knew he wouldn’t accept help from anyone else. And that he wouldn’t be able to turn Charles away…

“She didn’t tell me to come,” Charles rushes to say. “She was just worried because you refused to let her stay and help, and that you hadn’t found a sitter, or someone, yet. So I just offered-”

“Charles, please...” He breaks off with another sigh, rubbing his temples to stave off the oncoming headache. But it’s already too late, if the subtle pulsating pain, slowly increasing in intensity, is anything to go by. “You should not have come.”

“Carlos, don’t be stupid,” he scoffs. “Anyway, I am here.” And he supposes that’s true. Nothing can be done about it now. “You look tired.”

He huffs a small laugh, dropping his hands from his temples to meet Charles’ gaze.

“This is what someone looks like when their kid catches a stomach virus and then they catch that same virus from their kid, just when their kid is starting to feel better-”

“Why didn’t you let your mum help-?”

“I’m her dad,” he interrupts, breathing hard. But he softens his voice with his next words. “I can do this on my own. I just wanted to...”

He doesn’t really know how to finish that sentence, though. It sounds stubborn and stupid when he starts to say it out loud. None of this should be about him. It’s about Ana. And if he’d really needed help, he should’ve asked for it. For her.

Charles seems to know that he doesn’t have to say it - that Carlos is already thinking it. So, instead, he just claps a hand to his shoulder and squeezes.

“I think,” he says, “-you should get some rest.”

“Charles-”

“No, I’m serious. Go to your room, Mister Sainz.” A slow grin pulls over his features. And along with the genuine concern in his eyes, it’s almost enough to break through Carlos’ resolve. “You are exhausted. Ana will be fine - I will watch her. Just...rest for a minute. Okay? You don’t look like yourself.”

And he knows that must be true. He knows that he needs a lot more than just a few hours of sleep to feel somewhere close to normal again (a shower would be a good start). But it’s hard to even think of himself when he’s been so worried about Ana for days - researching how to get her fever to die down, trying to get her to drink fluids, watching her fitful face in sleep, his heart in his throat despite how the pediatrician had assured him she’d be fine.

But, then, he’d gotten sick, too. And instead of focusing on his own recovery, he’d had to fit in sessions of retching over the toilet in between caring for his kid and making sure she was properly fed. And the two of them had managed, even if it wasn’t ideal. They’d grown closer, he thought, by virtue of her needing him so much.

He couldn’t keep it together forever, though. Eventually, if he didn’t take a break, he’d fall apart completely.

It takes him a stubborn moment, the urge to argue bubbling up inside despite how glorious resting his head on a pillow sounds. But eventually he nods, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you.”

Charles just looks at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “You are welcome, Carlos. Now, go. You look like you are going to fall over at any moment.”

“I feel like I’m going to fall over at any moment.”

Charles laughs under his breath, pushing Carlos’ shoulder gently to aim him toward the hallway. “Well, fall over into bed, then.”

“I’m going,” he insists, letting his tired limbs and the heavy touch of Charles at his shoulder guide him toward his room.

He can deal with how insane this situation is - Charles showing up here, and what the hell it means that he’d come at all - once he’s had some sleep. For now, he’ll happily take it for granted.

He doesn’t even really remember climbing into bed before the exhaustion takes over, his body surrendering to fatigue now that he knows his kid’s in good hands. Trustworthy hands. Charles’ hands.

He thinks he can hear the faint sounds of their French floating down the hallway. It makes him smile with the last vestiges of energy he has left.

God, he is in so over his head.

----

WIP ask game

Link to fic on ao3 -> (x)

#wip ask game #anon #ask #rpf #charlos #kid fic

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merrycrisis-if · 4 months

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Idk if it’s been said, but Stick Season by Noah Kahan is very MC & Qiu coded.

Wow. Dude.

That first verse is possibly one of the most hardhitting first verses I've heard in a long-ass time.

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined You must have had yourself a change of heart like Halfway through the drive 'Cause your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right

I love those two sentences at the end, the feeling of missing an exit and sailing through and deciding to commit to what you know is the wrong path until it becomes the path you're now on is just... peak analogy for the person that you've left behind in your past.

The chorus, too, is sublime.

And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

And finally, the line, "And I am terrified of weather 'cause I see you when it rains" is probably the most Qiu x MC line ever.

#merry crisis #interactive fiction #if #asks #qiu

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lunarw0rks · 1 year

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slasher!graves 🩸 in honor of spooky season !!! w/c; 2.7k

warning(s): implied violence/gore, drugging, fem!reader

endless crop fields surrounded the dirt path, crunching under the tires audibly, overbearing the hum of the pickup's old speakers. as soon as you crossed county lines, only the two local stations played: gospel or vintage country. any tuning of the knob, and it was buzzing static.

mellow country music it is. preferable to a pastor lecturing you about the ins and outs of hell. don't worry father, i'm already there. or i've made it halfway to purgatory — east Texas backroads.

though, you don't need the faceless pastor; the decaying signs along the way are enough. hell is real, God bless, repent — every single one rusted, scratched, peeled in some way.

limitless, barren farmland; half-murky swamp the further east you go.

who's feeding the lumps of livestock you see grazing? what about the herding dogs that lay by rickety fences and intently watch your car pass? if it weren't for the occasional passing truck, you'd assume no one inhabited this county at all.

your pupils retract, blinded by the sun glaring off the hood. vibrant hues of orange and yellow, that would otherwise be soothing if you hadn't been in the driver's seat so long. for once, the lack of traffic and straight and narrow is a blessing, otherwise, you surely would've caused a collision.

the blinding sunset fades over time, indicating that you drove through golden hour instead of lying back and enjoying it. though, the thought of pulling over in this area sounded like a painful ordeal.

from straight, unpaved roads to skinny windy ones with taller grass on the border. as the sky darkens, the foliage is surely full of critters, snakes, and spiders that would crawl and tickle your flesh the second you stepped foot. the thought alone makes you shiver against the leather seats.

as the tires climb a particularly steep hill, the engine sputters, as if hacking and choking from the exertion. please don't let it happen here, is all you can think. the vintage pickup creaks and moans the further along you go — but thankfully doesn't let you down. it's any wonder you've made it this far in your trip.

your fingers reach across the seat, peeling back the page of your guide. the map you snagged at the first — and only — rest stop in the area. a few pages, tainted with coffee and grime, aside from hints of its original eggshell stain. the booklet is rough in texture but still partially legible, so you decided to take what you can get.

besides, once you finished up in the bathroom, bought water, and felt the judgment of the locals, you weren't in a position to ask for a clean map. and the geriatric clerk, brandishing a crucifix and eyes so blue they could pass for pearl, staring at you with grief.

for what, you couldn't wager. your unsaved soul?

your unwise decision to stop there? at least you can agree with the latter.

at last, your finger skimmed the section of road you were supposed to be cruising on. a straight one, like you had been on before. not the thin, windy dirt you're nearly stuck in — which doesn't exist on the map. either you're trespassing in some form, or you really have gotten lost in purgatory.

muttering a curse, you twist and turn your heads in hopes of finding an opening. somewhere, anywhere to turn the truck around and get back on your intended route.

once you spot the first opening, you turn into it. the truck travels down the short path, mud squishing underneath the overworked tires.

up ahead, the first residence you've seen that wasn't moldy or collapsed. three floors, milky paneling, original windows older than two of your lifetimes, and steps sure to give you splinters and creaks under the slightest movement.

from the outside, it's... average.

only slightly unsettling at best, which was a major improvement from the rest of town. frankly, it was shocking there wasn't a higher fence around the perimeter. you imagine this property being prime pickings for bandits and adventurous country teens.

after taking in its appearance for a few moments, you begin to reverse, now feeling the most resistance in the entire trip. the harder you push your foot down on the gas pedal, the deeper the back tires go into the thick mud.

the engine sputtered louder, beginning to spit out smoke from under the hood. considering your efforts, all you'd successfully done was splatter mud on the windows and kill the engine, hopefully not permanently.

you slumped forward and lightly smacked your head against the rim of the steering wheel, cursing yourself for literally ending up deeper in the mud.

through the cracked window of the truck, the windchimes sounded, reminding you of your only way out. raising your head, you laid eyes on the white farmhouse again, taking in its mystifying essence. the decor rustled in the gentle breeze, as did the fuzzy white clusters blowing off the cottonwood trees.

against the unforgiving summer elements, the outmoded residence stood still — as if the stoic constant stuck in the middle of a brewing summer storm.

motionless and deathlike; if a tornado dipped down through the dusky clouds, you were mildly convinced the residence would be the only structure left standing.

as it stands, your options are either to sit in the truck and sulk or take a gamble and knock on the old farmer's door. deciding on the latter, you step out, not bothering to shut the car door behind you, in case you're met with a cliché shotgun barrel for trespassing.

the rickety porch creaked under your weight when you stepped up, occupied with examining its every detail. there were the chimes you heard. some were standard, high-pitched jingles — others made from small animal bones were dull clicks — all suspended with twine.

aside from the roadkill and rocking chair, there were few signs of life in terms of decor. through the windowpanes, you were only met with pearly, lace curtains blocking any view inside.

caving, you raise your fist to the door. it's slathered in the same blanched paint as the rest of the exterior, only riddled with indents and scratches from age. three small knocks against the wood, and you're hoping whoever's behind it won't lead with hostility.

the house settles and croaks from inside, its joints as noisy as the deck you’re standing on. eventually, the door opens. behind it, the owner reveals himself; and it’s not the stereotypical image of an old man with overalls and a noisy coonhound at his side.

your prediction couldn’t have been more inaccurate.

“how can i help you, ma'am?” the voice speaks, oozing a subtle regional twang. casually, he leans against one side of the doorway, blue eyes sweeping you up and down.

younger than expected, and clean despite the gritty environment he lives in. his blond locks are carefully groomed and swept, and an aroma of musk and cedarwood permeates from him.

"i don't mean to be a bother," you stammer a bit, then motion behind you. the man's demeanor remains unbothered by the intrusion. "my truck is stuck in the mud, and i was wondering if you could get it... unstuck?"

he hollows his cheeks as if taking a few moments to consider your request.

but Graves already decided the moment he saw you. with a click of his tongue, a rumble rises through his chest, "no bother in askin' for help, is there? why didn't you just say so?" a faction of a smile spreads on his lips, easing the tension in your shoulders.

you return the break in tension with a small chuckle, biting back the urge to start twiddling your thumbs. he glances at the truck, "i'll pull her out for you. keys in the ignition for me?"

you nod, and he steps out of his relaxed pose. "i would really appreciate that. thank you, sir."

but instead of stepping out toward the vehicle, he moves to the side and flicks his head. "don't mind waiting inside, do you? 'sides, young lady like you shouldn't be shivering."

you really were helpless, or at least, that's how it felt.

the desire to reject is futile and forgotten. before you knew it, you stepped inside and followed him. the entryway was quaint with only a coat rack and mat, and open to the kitchen. the gray and white tiles were patterned like a checkerboard, blended with natural wood cabinets that matched the original wood everywhere else.

in the middle, a circular dining table with two chairs, brandishing hack marks — some fresh, some old. with a scrape, he pulled out a chair for you, and you settled on it.

rather than asking first, he went straight to the vintage refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher. he reached into the ice bucket and dropped a handful of cubes into two glasses, then tipped the pitcher and filled them with lemonade.

you stopped watching when he turned, instead setting your attention on the decor. it was as average as the exterior; a country kitchen that was slightly rough around the edges. Graves slid the glass in front of you, then set his own on the opposite side, sitting instead of heading straight outside to deal with the truck.

he sighed when he sat down again, holding onto the glass but not sipping from it. for a few moments, there was silence between you; a studying stare making you feel like you were in a fishbowl. swallowing dryly, you raised the glass and took a sip from it.

lemonade, a partial punch of citrus, coaxed by tons of added sugar. you let out a polite mhm and smiled, hoping to let your courtesy break the silence again.

"gets awful lonesome out here, don't it?" the man finally spoke, and you took another gulp to pass the time. "can't say i mind the company. not a lot of tourists in these parts, i guess."

you nodded in agreement, eyes darting toward the ticking clock behind his head, "i'm sure it does." you really should be back on the road by now.

he must've noticed your eagerness, because he gave his knee a slap and sat up, "here i am, talkin' your ear off again. should only take a few minutes if you don't mind waiting here."

his footsteps retreated back down the hall, leaving you in silence except for the ticking, which now sounded louder. you glanced down at the glass and swirled it around, deciding it best to finish your drink off before you left the man's seemingly good graces.

once the front door opened and closed, you took a better look around at the kitchen. the knickknacks along the wall, and the dusty china in one of the cabinets.

further along, you skimmed past the doors leading to the rest of the home. the l-shaped staircase came down to the kitchen, steep and rickety. adjacent, was a door similar to the one in the foyer.

when curiosity got the better of you, you stood up and crept over. pressing your ear against it, you heard no one behind it; not even the drone of a television.

you wrapped a hand around the knob and twisted it, pushing the door open. it led to a sitting room of sorts, or perhaps the only living room in the farmhouse. an old-fashioned wood fireplace in the corner, a brown couch against the wall facing the back windows, and the box TV posed on an end table.

the windows had the same sheer, white curtains as the kitchen, blowing gently from the breeze outside. custom shelves covered the other wall, filled to the brim with outlandish decor.

you first stepped closer to the window, seeing his figure outside. there was your truck, still in the same position you'd left it; the door still cracked, and its tires were embedded in mud. and the man, a distance away and moving toward the red barn in the distance — a more powerful, agile stride than he'd shown with you.

thinking nothing of it, you occupied your boredom with snooping. the shelves were what caught your attention, so that's where you ended up.

standing in front of them, you scanned through every item, growing more unsettled the longer you ogled. first, it was ancestral photos old enough to be in black and white, eerie but not abnormal. then, on the second shelf, the appeared uncanny.

quaint, mason jars and teeth.

fangs from coyotes and bobcats alike, mixed with bloodied molars that only could be pried from human mouths. the sight was akin to a gnarly car wreck, causing your morbid curiosity to overtake your sense of danger.

you glanced out the window again, seeing the barn door cracked open, indicating he was still occupied. crouching down, you examined the lowest shelf. the only clutter visible was VHS tapes, thick books, and small chests and boxes.

you took the first one that caught your eye, undoing the clasps and opening the velvety chest. newspaper clippings and passages alike, and a mini-Bible lay in the mess of words.

shaking your head, you set it aside and grabbed one of the tiny boxes, taking off the lid. your blood flow went icy, and your fingers trembled as you set the lid aside and continued processing.

possessions; watches, necklaces, wedding bands, and choppy strands of all hair types. when you noticed the hair, you gasped and ejected the box from your grip.

they weren't belongings; they were trophies.

the front door creaks from across the house, then slams shut again. you scramble to put the lids back on and pinch your finger in one of the latches, reflexively dropping it. all its contents clatter against the wood floor, compromising your cover.

"find somethin' you like?"

his voice appears behind you, effectively sending you into a startle. graves glances at the mess below you, still maintaining an eerie stillness about him.

frantically shaking your head, you begin to feel sweat cake your hairline. you ball your fists and go clammy, taking steps back, "this is my fault— i shouldn't have let my curiosity get the better of me." he remains untouched by your apprehensive shift, only worsening your instinct to run.

but he doesn't lunge or creep closer; all he does is linger by the shelves.

despite how dry your throat is, you gather saliva and gulp tensely, "i should get going. long trip ahead." that's hopeless; you know he didn't move the truck. you would've heard an engine. how far could you make it on foot?

your words come out sluggishly as if your brain is working at half speed. you peer down, stepping around every morbid souvenir — though all you do is stumble, rather than make any distance.

"won't be necessary, sweetheart." his voice echoes, stance unchanging while he observes your struggle.

you grasp at one of the walls, lids drooping as your feet drag. the lemonade he never once put his mouth on, laced with some sort of sedative. it all hit you too late; too late to retch it up or bolt down the hall ahead of him.

eventually, he steps closer, watching as you make an 'attempt' to swat him away. all you do is whack your hand at the air, thoroughly wasting more of your dwindling energy. instead of words, all that comes out are slurs or whimpers of intense turmoil.

your view of the doorway tilts and twists, turning blurred and doubled the further you stagger. a swirl of nausea erupts in your stomach, causing your knees to buckle. your head collides with the edge of the coffee table, leaving you stunned.

as the tranquilizer pumps through you, the drowsiness is indomitable. you roll onto your back and cough, lying at his feet. with the last of your remaining lucidity, you tug on his jean leg, as if in one last ditch effort to get to your feet again.

despite his opportunity to kick away your pleas, Graves stands idle, his neck craned down to watch every moment of it, a sick rendition of his favorite hobby. the most noticeable sensation — the tender skin of your temple throbs from the impact, until any and all discomfort fades away.

eyelids weighed with bricks flutter shut, squirming limbs cease, and the heave of your chest slows into gentle waves of slumber.

"atta' girl."

‧˚₊ divider cred. - cafekitsune ‧₊˚⊹

#what's the verdict fellas #i'm iffy about my dark writing #slasher!graves #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves cod #shadow company #phillip graves x you #graves x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x you #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic

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