#took me a while to be able to open my eye when i woke up

[princeofyorkshire]

my sinus infection is fucking up my eye this is great 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

[scuderiahoney]

Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

[ohdeerfully]

Man, I just need some more sleepy Alastor x reader. Honestly, I don’t know what the plot would be or whatever but I am a literal magnet when it comes to sleepy characters😋😋

Lazy Morning

Alastor x Reader (fluff)

TW: none!

join my discord!

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You stretched your arms up and out as you woke up, eyes flickering open at the bright red of Hell’s sky filtering through the curtains of your room. You let your eyes close again for a moment, sighing and going limp under your covers again. You had a long night, and just… a few more minutes…

Your consciousness started slipping again, and you felt so comfortable under your fluffy duvet…

Knock, knock knock

Your eyes cracked open and you couldn’t stop the groan that escaped your lips. You knew exactly who knocked on your door, because he had a particular way of doing so every time. You weren’t upset that he was here, but you were upset that he was rousing you from your comfortable bed.

“Let yourself in,” You called, unintentionally sharp. You tugged the blanket around your face tighter, staring at the door as it opened softly.

Alastor peeked the top half of his body in, looked at you, laughed lightly, and fully entered the room. 

“My dearest,” He said through a gentle grin. His head tilted to the side, as if he was confused to see you laying there. “It’s… rather late in the morning! Don’t waste your eternity lying in bed!”

You simply hummed in response, and you didn’t move an inch. He stepped forwards towards your bed, looming over you. You had trouble seeing his face in the long shadows cast by the violently bright morning beaming through your curtains. But, you could tell there was a disapproving look in his features. He hated unproductivity. 

“Could you close the curtains tighter,” You pleaded, ignoring his earlier comment. You were growing irritated at the light, and shoved your face into the pillow.

Alastor ‘tsked’ and walked towards the curtains. His sharp fingers dug into the fabric… before he sharply pulled them apart, blasting light into your room.

You shouted wordlessly at him, though an intelligible ‘you dick’ was heard in your otherwise mindless yells. Alastor only cackled at you, dramatically wiping a fake tear from his eye—the sound of a laugh track on his cane joined him. He was cut off when a pillow hit him square in the face.

“Fucking close them!” You practically screamed. Your voice cracked, still dripping with sleep. You were squinting in the light to the point your eyes might as well be shut.

Alastor obeyed with a hum, a pleased look in his eyes at his own antics. The room was swamped in darkness. The demon walked towards your bed again, his eyes slightly glowing in the darkness. You watched him as he watched you.

“Now, when do you plan on not being so lazy?” There was a hint of a tease in his voice. “It’s a wonderful day in Hell.”

You slid your arms out from the blanket and reached towards him. He looked at your arms strangely. You rolled your eyes at his cluelessness.

“I’ll get up if you stay with me for a few minutes.”

Alastor thought for a moment before gingerly setting himself down on the bed near you. “I’m not going to babysit you,” He began. “Just b-” You cut him off with a whine. His eyes narrowed at you.

“Get closer,” You demanded, your arms still outstretched. Alastor wasn’t the biggest fan of your childish attitude, but he bit back a comment and scooted a couple inches forward. You lifted yourself up slightly and slid your hands behind his back, tugging him forward.

With anybody else, Alastor would have probably yanked off an arm, or something. His heart held a strangely soft spot for you, though, and he was able to fight off his instincts to let himself get dragged by your hands. He caught himself from falling completely forward, his hands placed flat on either side of your head.

You smiled up at him, a sleepy look still affecting your eyes. He felt his chest squeeze while he looked down at you. It took him a while to get used to the strange, alien emotions you made him feel in the months after he confessed to “feeling a strange way about you”, but he was starting to become more acquainted with them. He clenched his jaw, his smile becoming low and watery as his eyes watched your hand drag a light finger down his cheek.

“You curse me,” His voice was low and intimate, and it lacked the sound of radio frequency. His face inched closer to yours as he spoke. “I feel so weak near you.” He kept the fact that he hated it to himself.

You gave him a lazy, lopsided grin. “I consider myself more like a hex, really.” This made Alastor smile a bit wider. He pressed his face into your neck, and you laughed lightly at the sensation of his hair tickling your skin. He inhaled sharply before sighing, settling his body next to you.

What a change in mood, You thought to yourself as Alastor snaked an arm under your head. You saw a tired look in his eyes, something that he would tend to hide in his day to day. You knew he didn’t sleep much. 

“It’s been a few minutes,” Alastor commented. His voice had a twinge of exhaustion in it, likely brought on by laying down. It was no surprise that sleep would jump on him like a rabid animal since he kept himself awake for seemingly days on end.

“Just a few more,” You pleaded. You pressed your face into his chest, and felt it rumble slightly when he hummed an ‘okay’ in response to your request. You curled your arm around his torso.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you know you did when you crack open your eyes and your body feels heavy, still waking up. You lift yourself, but stop when you feel the weight of Alastor’s arm around you. You smile when you look down and see a soft, sleepy smile on his lips and a relaxed look on his features.

You slip yourself from his grip, and his eyes crack open. His eyebrows furrow for a moment, and you watch as he stifles a yawn.

You wordlessly blinks his eyes open and looks at you.

“Ready to get up?” You ask him, leaning over to stare directly down at him.

He closes his eyes in response again and sighs, simultaneously lifting an arm to lightly wrap around your waist.

You watch him for a few seconds, before looking up and around your room. Your eyes settle on your curtains, an ominous glow of light emanating from the edges. A sinister smile peaks your lips, and you weigh the pros and cons.

It was a brief thought, though, because when you looked back down at Alastor all evil intent left your body. This guy never slept, you shouldn’t interrupt this just to get back at him.

Plus, how endearing he looked, so vulnerable underneath you. The Radio Demon, sleeping, guards lowered, trusting you. You leaned down and pressed a careful kiss against his forehead before lying back down. He was quick to swamp you with his arms once again, and you suddenly wondered if it’d be so bad to sleep the day away.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Crazy For You was so good! Do you think you’ll continue it or write more similar to that?

Crazy For You Too || LN4

Summary: Just a little follow up the morning after part one ended. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, gaslighting, dub/con, dark themes WC: 1k Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

You woke the next morning feeling strangely groggy and hungover, like there was a laden cloud heavy in your mind. There was no way you were going to be able to go to work but you couldn’t find your phone to call your boss. You searched everywhere but it wasn’t where you usually left it. 

With no other option, you padded off down the hall to knock on Lando’s door. 

“Good morning, Mr Riley,” you greeted the elderly man as he approached from the elevator.

“Would you keep it down next time, some of us like to sleep,” he grumbled as he walked on to his door. “You kids and your violent video games. Up at all hours. No respect.”

“Good morning, baby.” Lando opened the door and narrowed his eyes at Mr Riley before he pulled you inside for a kiss, but you were still reeling from the telling off you had just received. Lando looked like he had a late night and just woken up since he was still wearing only his boxers and his hair was a mess on one side and flat on the other. “What was Carl’s problem?”

You shrugged, genuinely perplexed at the entire interaction. “I don’t know.”

He frowned but it was gone as quick as it came. “How did you sleep?”

You shifted on your feet as you rubbed your wrist subconsciously, the ache seemingly coming on overnight. “Not very well. I had a really bizarre dream,” you admitted quietly as you walked further into the apartment. “I’m actually not feeling too good, I was going to call in sick but I can’t find my phone.”

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body,” he chuckled, handing his phone over. “Call from mine, love. Then we can go back to bed.”

Lando boiled the kettle while you called your boss, apologising for the late notice, but he was kind enough and told you to rest up. Sinking into the couch with a sigh, you placed the phone on the coffee table and dragged a blanket up over your body.

“Here, love, this will make you feel better,” Lando said as he passed you a steaming mug of herbal tea. You inhaled the aroma of lemon and ginger but there was a sweet scent that you couldn’t quite place. 

Taking a sip, you hummed as it soothed your sore throat and snuggled into Lando’s side. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Lando took the cup and placed it on the table. “It must have been something good,” he teased. His hand drifted up your thigh under the blanket and warmth spread across your skin in response. “How are you feeling?”

“Hot,” you replied honestly, the need to remove your clothes suddenly the most sensible thing you could think of. 

He grinned as he moved your trembling hands and pulled your shirt over your head before reaching for the button on your jeans. “Let me help you, baby.”

You moaned as the cool air kissed your skin but it still wasn’t enough. “I need you, Lan, please touch me.”

His eyes darkened as you fell back onto the couch, the blanket discarded so there was nothing hiding you from him. His mouth went dry and he licked his lips before he could use his voice, but still it sounded pained. “Where?”

You couldn’t think clearly with the fire blazing through you and you spread your legs in search of reprieve as you begged, “Everywhere.”

Lando’s lips eased the burning need in your core and his tongue chased away the fire that licked your skin. The room filled with the wanton sounds that erupted when he curled two fingers inside you and you buried your hands in his hair as you rolled your hips. 

One orgasm rolled into the next as the room spun around you, your quick breaths leaving you lightheaded. You didn’t even think about the consequences as you tugged Lando’s hair until he looked up to meet your eyes from where he lay at the juncture of your thighs. “I need you to fuck me right now, please…fuck, what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong, baby,” he soothed as he kissed his way up the length of your body before capturing your lips. He absorbed the cry of delight as he filled you in one stroke and the fleeting thought you had was lost when he started to roll his hips with long, slow thrusts. “I love you, god, you have no idea how much I love you, what I would do for you, for us.”

You barely understood his murmurings in your ear as your pleasure mounted and your nails found purchase in his back as you came. 

Finally, the fire began to smoulder and you could breathe again. It was unlike any fever you had ever had and left you exhausted as Lando lay with you along the couch, dragging the blanket back over you as if he knew you were suddenly feeling the cold. 

“Did you say you love me?” you asked as your heart returned to its normal rate, the whispers lingering in your fucked out brain. 

“No,” he chuckled as he kissed your shoulder and wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“Oh.” You felt foolish and your cheeks warmed with an entirely different heat as you started to sit up.

His arm tightened around you, keeping you flush to his naked body before you could escape. “But I’m fucking crazy for you, baby, of course I love you.”

A knot tied in your stomach at the confession but you put it down to the nervousness of admitting that you felt the same. You had never felt this way about a man and the way he treated you was unlike anyone before him. He spoiled you and took care of you, it was natural to fall for him. “I love you too.”

You felt his smile on your nape and his fingers tickled your sides as he drew abstract pictures on your skin. “So move in with me,” he whispered. “This can be us everyday.”

Click here for part three.

[scudslut]

Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

[laughing-with-god]

Unsaid Vow I

(This is the first 1.7k of the 10k chapter that is available right now on my Patreon. Please join for early access plus beta content!)

Synopsis: You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a five-year-old.

Also looking for new fic art for this if anyone's interested!!

Read first: Prologue

“I’m a grown man.”

These were the words that greeted you and effectively pulled you out of your weary slumber.  

You drowsily rubbed your eyes and rolled over, yawning as you took in the sight of your son staring at you bemusedly from beside your bed.  

If you weren’t used to this behavior from Hugo already, you perhaps would've screamed at the sudden creepy sight of a child with a solemn expression saying odd things to you before the sun has even risen.  Yet, you have grown accustomed to the old man your toddler was.  

“Good morning to you too, bud.”  You groaned tiredly, already searching your thick bedding for your phone in order to check the time.  Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, which told you it was earlier than you had originally planned to wake up.  But what was the point of having plans when you had a child?  They had a talent for ruining them.  

“I’m five today.”  Hugo ignored your greeting, getting right into the point with furrowed brows as he held up all five fingers, each one representing a year of his life.  

“Yup, I know dumpling.”  You chuckled, finally pulling out your phone and opening it to see  ‘6:03 am” staring back at you.  “Believe it or not, the day you were born was quite memorable for me too.”  

You cringed as you thought of the 20 hour labor that preceded Hugo’s birth.   How could you ever forget that hellish day?  

“Mom, it’s my birthday.”  Hugo told you, tone serious as a heart attack.  

“Yes, happy birthday love.”  You smiled at your son, trying not to let him see the exhaustion you secretly felt.  “I suppose there’s no way I can talk you into going back to bed for another hour or so?”  

“No. You always say ‘the day starts when I first open my eyes in the morning”.  Your son parroted the saying back to you with a proud grin.  

Hugo once went through a phase where he wouldn’t want to leave the bed after waking up, simply wanting to stay in pj’s all day long and watch cartoons amongst his stuffies. 

It took a while to get your little homebody to actually stop this habit and begin getting up to ready himself for the day whenever he woke up.  You used to tell him that the day starts whenever he opens his eyes in the morning, however on days like these where he wakes up super early, he now does not see the point in lying in.  

“Right, that is a good point.”  You softly relented, mentally scolding yourself for yet another parenting tactic backfired.  “How does some breakfast sound?”

“Mom, I have a prop-pre-preposaa-”  

“Proposal?”  You offered, swinging your legs off the side of your bed.  

“Yeah, that.”  Hugo nodded to himself, most likely taking note of the proper pronunciation of the word so he can use it again in conversation.  “I think it’s time we talk about coffee.”

“Coffee?”  

“You and daddy are always saying that coffee is for grownups.  Today I’m five, which means I’m older, which means I should be able to have coffee.”  Hugo reasoned this to you while twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit he does when he wants you to say yes to something he knows is unrealistic.  

“Mmm...”  You hummed, pretending to think hard about the offer.  “What if I gave you a very light coffee?  A beginner version to get you ready for the real thing when you’re older?”  

Hugo looked conflicted, but after reading your face and correctly assuming that’s the best he was going to get, he nodded solemnly in reluctant agreement.  

With one final huff you shoved yourself off the king sized bed, standing to your full height and throwing your arms up in a stretch.  “Why don’t you wait in the living room for me bud?  I’ll be right out.”  

The freshly turned five year old happily nodded up at you before exiting your bedroom, leaving you alone once again.  

You turned your attention back to the bed in which you just rose out of.  More particularly, you stared at the other side of the bed, the side in which your husband was supposed to sleep on. 

It was a direct opposite of your messy side, crisp and neatly made; the fluffy pillows, pressed sheets and silk duvet being perfectly in place.  Yet, this wasn’t an ode to Jungkook’s neatness and attention to detail.  

No.  

Jungkook hasn’t been sleeping in the same bed as you for a while now.  

Your husband always preferred to rise early, given he was a man who liked to follow a strict morning regime which could easily be thrown off if he slept in even a minute later.  Up at 5:30. teeth brushed and face shaved by 5:40.  Breakfast, coffee and newspaper consumed by 6:00.  

Then right before taking his leave, Jungkook would pack himself a bag of work clothes and make a quick protein shake, given he would then head to the gym where he would get his morning workout and shower from.  Then from the gym, he would head straight to work.  

A few months ago, he suggested sleeping in the guest room.

You had asked why, bewildered at the request.  

Sure, you two didn’t really cuddle anymore. Sex was also rare. But you figured that the least you could do as husband and wife was sleep in the same bed amicably. Had you started kicking him in your sleep or something?

“I’d notice you begin to kinda stir when I first get up and go about my routine.  I don’t want to wake you up or be a bother.”  He had said.  

That didn’t really make sense to you.  

You have always been a deep sleeper. And even if you did wake up for a second, you’d clearly see your husband getting ready for the day, roll over and go back to sleep.  

It was such a lame excuse, you just shrugged and bitterly told him that he hogged the blankets anyway.  

It wasn’t true, but Jungkook didn’t comment.  

You trudged over to the ensuite bathroom and quickly did your morning routine.  

When you came out of your room and into the living space, you saw Hugo glued to the giant flat screen in a trance-like state as he watched his usual morning cartoons.  The sight tugged a small smile out of you, although the mother in you didn’t like how close he was.

“Hugo, back up from the screen! Bluey isn’t going anywhere. Your eyes will go bad.”  Your son wordlessly obliged and scooted back, not breaking eye contact with his favorite family of puppies.  “What would you like for breakfast ‘Mr. grown man’?”  

“Blueberry pancakes…and don’t forget my coffee!”  

“You got it, birthday boy.” 

The kitchen, dining and living room were open concept, so you multi-tasked watching Hugo while whipping up his breakfast.  You never were much of a cook and you still aren’t even after motherhood, but you did commit to learning your son’s favorite dishes.

The process was over quickly, you having made this recipe countless times and knowing it like the back of your hand.  

You set a plate on the island table, calling Hugo over while you secretly mixed some instant hot chocolate in a mug.  

The five year old jumped up and grinned at the meal, saying a quick “thank you” before digging in with all the grace a five year old could possibly have.  

“And of course, your coffee.”  You tried not to smile as you handed him the cup.

“Thanks mama.”  

The mini-Jungkook took a gulp, then stared seriously at the contents of the mug, swishing it around in some faux detective work.  

“Something wrong, dumpling?”

“It tastes…fa-fam-”

“Familiar?”  

“Yes. Is coffee always this sweet?”  

You laughed, now moving to the real coffee maker to make your own cup.  “No, this is the kid version.  It might taste like chocolate because chocolate has caffeine in it too.”  

Your little old man huffed to himself but nodded in agreement, simply not knowing enough to dispute your logic.  

Your old coffeemaker grumbled awake, croaking and hissing as you pressed the worn-out buttons for your usual morning brew.  Jungkook always made fun of you for the ancient machine, but even after he had bought a much more expensive and up-to-date one, you stubbornly remained loyal to yours.  

“So buddy, what do you want to do today?  We can go get new books, hit up the toy store, maybe even visit the aquarium?”  

“I wanna help set up for my party, mommy.” 

Well, “party” wasn’t quite the right word for it.  

Hugo had no friends.  It was tough for a kid like him to make any.  At this age and as a boy, most of his peers would meet and form relationships in little league or rough housing at the local park. 

Your son was different.  He preferred reading to sports, hated the outdoors and was generally a shy kid who tended to tear up when anyone other than his family tried speaking to him.  

So this year, his birthday party was an intimate circle of family and family friends.  You hoped that by next year you could host an actual kid birthday party, as Hugo would be in school and have classmates by then. 

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s time to do both.”  The boy looked at you skeptically.  “We can go to the bookstore across the street after breakfast and I’ll let you pick out some new bedtime stories.  Then we can go to the aquarium and have lunch there. And on our way home I’ll stop by the store to get some stuff for the party, and you can get a toy.  Sounds good?”  

Hugo frowned, then peeled back his pajama sleeve to look at his submarine-themed watch.  The act seemed a little pretentious to you, given he didn’t yet know how to read clocks.  

“Fine mommy, but we should be quick.  Also you need to ask our guests if they have any food aler-alergeez-”

“Allergies?  Yes bud, I’ll be sure to send them a text.”  You rolled your eyes.

With that, Hugo quietly finished his breakfast as you sipped your coffee.  

When you two were done, you both got dressed and ready for the day’s activities. 

Before leaving the apartment, you were sure to send a text to your husband.  

‘Be home by 6 please.  Hugo’s birthday party starts at 6:30 and he needs you there.’

[a-hazbin-soul]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some angst with the hazbin hotel characters? Like we get into an argument and they yell and notice we went silent, looking as if we were gonna break down into tears, IM SORRY I JUST LIVE FOR ANGST AHHH

Hazbin Hotel characters making their S/O cry

Alastor

He was preparing for tomorrow night's broadcast when he heard the door open.

He had been working on his radio broadcast and hotel things for the whole day. He was under so much stress and took it out on you.

"Darling, you know I've been in here all day. Is it that difficult to knock?! You know these things are important! Why must you interrupt me?!"

He didn't get an answer. You just slammed the door and ran out.

He felt terrible as soon as he saw sadness in your eyes.

He ran after you and hugged you, rubbing circles on your back and telling you how sorry he was.

Lucifer

He was very pissed at how much Alastor and Charlie got along.

He was working on his rubber ducks, not hearing you walk in.

He didn't know you were in the room until you hugged him from behind.

"What? What is it now?!" He shouted, dropping his rubber duck to the floor.

"Could you leave me alone for five minutes when you know I'm busy?!"

"Wow, fuck you!" You said before slamming the door and using your powers to get to the hotel.

Alastor opened the door to see you crying and brought you to the couch, giving you a hug.

You barely got the chance to finish telling Alastor what happened before Lucifer ran to you, crying and apologizing.

You were able to talk things out and agreed to be more open about feelings.

Sir Pentious

Pentious was working on a new invention. But, since he was trying to get redeemed, it couldn't be for evil.

He was trying to build things to help with the hotel. Right now, he was making something to lift Niffty up around the hotel.

You were trying to help while also keeping the egg bois under control, not realizing you were distracting him.

"Will you please stop already! You're supposed to be watching them, but you're just as annoying!!"

You had tears in your eyes as soon as you turned around.

"Fine!" You yelled before running off.

"That wasn't very nice, boss. You should apologize."

When Pentious saw you, you were sitting on the couch by the TV with Charlie hugging you.

"Y/N, may I speak with you? I would like to apologize."

You silently nodded, standing up next to him.

"I'm sorry, my dearest, can you ever forgive me?"

"As long as you promise to tell me what's wrong and how to properly help in the future."

He pulled you into a hug and wrapped his tail around you.

Husker

The bar was open way later than usual because Charlie decided to have an open house for the hotel.

Free drinks were pretty much a necessity when you're trying to lure in sinners.

Husk seemed fine/ his usual brand of grumpy.... Until he saw you talking and laughing with some guy and pulled you into an empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that? Did you really think I would be too busy to see you flirting like a whore?"

Even with tears in your eyes, you could tell he's been drinking vodka straight.

You pushed him away from you.

"That's my cousin, you asshole! He was asking me about the hotel."

You ran away, going right to the room you shared with Husk and trying to go to sleep.

Husk spent the rest of the party drinking water and eating a few snacks to fight the future hangover.

When you woke up, Husk had his wings and arms wrapped around you. He didn't even bother trying to sleep.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I was such an idiot and I hurt the best person who's ever been in my life. I freaked out about seeing you with someone else..... because I know I don't deserve you, and I don't want to lose you."

He was crying into your shoulder, and you pulled him into a hug.

"You couldn't lose me if you wanted to. Just remember, I love you more than anything, and I'd rather die again than lose you.

(A/N : This sucks ass and I'm sorry this took me so long. I hope you like it, though. )

Requests open

[fraugwinska]

Hello, wait are your requests open? 😅

If yes - i have an idea? :)

Per Charlie's decision everyone goes out for a night out in the town. You stay at the hotel as you weren't feeling well. Thinking the hotel is empty you carelssly leave your room and head to the bar and lounge area. To your surprise it's already occupied - Alastor is drinking whisky and listening to jazz on his old radio. He is already tipsy as he starts slowly dancing with himself. You don't want to interrupt but before you can go back he calls to you and asks if you want to join him. I just really need some tipsy and more relaxed Alastor thay slowly openes up to the reader. Bonus scene: you two fall asleep on the couch and wake up to the whole group staring at you two with the wildests reactions lol

This was such a cute prompt - Thank you for suggesting this, dear Anon! It's a little shorter, but I really like it - hope you do too! :>

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

More than words

Thirsty. You are thirsty.

That's the first thought you had when you woke up from your nap. Hell really had eternal suffering, with migraines being just as annoying and painful in hell as they were on earth. You had woken up with pain behind your eyes, and you knew in that exact moment you had to tell Charlie you wouldn't be able to go out tonight, because knowing yourself it would last the whole day and leave you exhausted by the evening.

You peeled yourself out of bed, realizing with relief that the pain and the dull pressure were gone almost completely. One or two glasses of water and a strong espresso, and maybe you were even able to get a good night's sleep. So you threw a cozy, fuzzy cardigan over you and headed to the kitchen. You had expected creepy silence, since it didn't happen often that everyone went out all at once, so you were surprised to hear the faint sounds of pianos, trumpets and drums when you were halfway down the staircase. Maybe Charlie or Husk had left the radio on? Without real reason to you tiptoed the last steps down, peeking around the corner of the corridor leading to the bar. What you saw made you both speech- and breathless.

Alastor, with a glass of whiskey in hand, humming along to Boogie Man by Sid Phillips, eyes closed and dancing just for himself – tipsy, slightly uncoordinated swing steps that might've looked impressive if he wasn't... drunk? At least a bit buzzed, that was for sure.

You watched him in fascination, tapping and twirling, while you contemplated what to do. The only way to the kitchen was through the foyer, which meant you had to pass the bar, ergo Alastor. But you weren't sure how much he would appreciate you catching him in this... state. Yes, you were on good terms, you would even go as far to say you were friends, but that stage of relationship was far too fresh to risk changing it by angering him. You decided that your bathroom sink had to provide the much needed water and fuck the espresso, you turned around to sneak back to your room.

„Oh, I didn't know there was an audience for my show!“

Fuck.

You glanced over your shoulder – Alastor looked you straight in the eye, swaying a bit, grin loose and eyes a little clouded. He sounded more amused than angry, something you didn't expect, but were fucking grateful for.

„Sorry, Al... I didn't think you were home, I just wanted to get some water and head back to my room.“ „Ah,“ Alastor took a sip of his drink, golden brown liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth down to his chin. With careless fingers he wipes it away. „So eager to leave little ol' me hanging...“ He pouted. Alastor, the radio demon pouted. You asked yourself if you might have migraine-incited hallucinations.

„Alastor, are you... okay?“, you ask, carefully turning to him.

„Fantastic dear, just fantastic.“, he muttered, eyeing his now empty glass, „Although drinking in company would certainly be more pleasurable than drinking alone.“

He walked back behind the bar, steps still a little wobbly, and poured himself another, giving you an opportunity. It was the deers crude way of handing you the choice - You could leave now, if you wanted.

Instead, you wrapped the cardigan tighter around yourself, suddenly very aware of your lack of decorum, and with a few steps, you were in front of him, sliding onto one of the stools. Alastor tilted his head at you as you leaned on the counter, both elbows on the slightly sticky surface and face in your hands, sighing.

„Alright tapper, as long as you don't bring my headache back, pour it away.“

----------------------------***----------------------------

„... and wouldn't you believe it, the next time this idiot saw me he just ripped off his whole arm and threw it at me!“

Alastor laughed, loudly and boastfully, slapping his thighs. You joined in with your own laughter, more like a cackle, tongue and restraint loosened by his choice of drink for you – mint julep, apparently one of the only cocktails he knew how to mix, being a favourite from his time in the 1920's. The fresh and cooling drink went easily down your tongue, and both of you had been chatting away for the last hour, mostly Alastor telling you funny anecdotes and you laughing at his stories till your mouth went dry.

While you drank slowly, Alastor rushed every drink down his throat like a parched man. With wonder you watched him, amazed by how much he could take, word unslurred and speech still crisp and transatlantic. The only indicator of his drunkenness: his choice of words became more and more crass. It made you giggle uncontrollably whenever he used profanities that were so unlike him. 

“Can you blame him? That poor man probably didn’t want you to rip it off again - might just do it himself and save the trouble!” “I didn’t even get to the best part, darling - He owned a fucking second hand shop! Ha Ha HA!” He bellowed with laughter,looking more like a mischievous school-boy than a terrifying overlord and you slapped his arm. “Alastor, stop, you’re making this up!” “Absolutely not, it’s the irony that makes the story even more comical.”

You shook your head, stirring the mint leaves in your glass.He was much more easy-going than normal, his cheeks tinted in a pretty shade of red. The biggest difference was his everlasting smile. Tight and wide normally, it had become a loose, content one, playful without the malice it usually carried. He looked even more handsome that way.

“A penny for your thought, cherie.”, he chuckled, arms crossed on the countertop and leaning in closely. The proximity brought the smell of bourbon, warm wood and nutmeg with hints of vetiver. The stronger version of his natural scent. Tasty. The thought shuddered through your mind and you swallowed it quickly with the rest of your own drink. “I just thought about a Chaplin quote that came to mind.” He leaned on his hand, blinking in curiosity, half-lidded eyes telling you to continue - you and him had a thing for his movies, you've watched City Lights together multiple times. “A man's true character comes out when he's drunk.” You mirrored his gesture with a smile of your own, bringing your face even closer to his, which seemed to startle him. “And I gotta say it’s a shame you’re not drunk more often.”

Alastor pulled back, grasping for the whiskey bottle as he avoided your gaze. You were confused - had you offended him? You sat yourself upright, ready to apologize, when he cut you off.

“Better not to reveal this kind of secret to just everyone, my dear. It’s only the ghost of a man long gone, anyways.” He sighed at the bottle in his hands, realizing it was empty. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Please, you may tell that yourself but I’m not a medium. That man isn’t gone. He's only hiding, deep down in there.”

Foolishly your brain didn’t remind you that Alastor didn’t like to be touched. You reached out, putting your hand flat at his chest, right where his heart would be. As for Alastor, his alcohol-dazed mind couldn’t catch up with what you were doing fast enough. Your palm pressed down, receiving the soothing, soft warmth he always radiated through your sensitive skin, like an old radio that had been left on for too long. His eyes widened, you felt him inhale sharply, yet it took another few seconds for him to react, flinching back.

His barstool wobbled, swinging dangerously, and like in slow-motion he fell backwards, only letting out a small, ulfiltered “Shit!” before he disappeared behind the bar. You jumped up, stuttering “Sorry, sorry, oh fuck, I’m so sorry!” while you hurried behind the bar to help him up. He was sprawled out on the floor, almost like a starfish, his chest shaking and an arm thrown over his face. “Alastor, I’m so sorry, are you hurt? Did you hit your head? Fuck, I’m so….”, you stopped abruptly when he burst out laughing. He wheezed, shaking with laughter, and you fell to your knees beside him, relieved and at the same time unnerved. He sat up, still holding his chest with one hand and patting your head with the other.

“Moments like these remind me why I like you so much, darling. Such a blue-eyed, air-headed doe you are.” You met his gaze, ready to banter, but the sad tint in his expression made you decide against that. Instead you shuffled nearer to him, slowly sitting up on your knees, to give him the option to push you away. He didn’t, only watching you closely. You wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him close, his cheek resting on your chest, tight enough he had to hear your heartbeat.

You held him like this until you felt his hands on your back, returning the embrace. HIs breath was warm and heavy on your skin. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was holding back tears. Maybe he was. You just stayed like this, holding him in your arms. Words were unnecessary, unwanted even. Him and you weren’t close enough yet to bring everything he should share into words. But you would be there, whenever that moment came, and for now, this was the right way to express what couldn’t be said. Much more even.

When he pulled away, he did it gently, a soft and thankful smile on his lips. “I think the bar has run dry, my dear.” He stood up, offering you his hand to help you up. You took it, and he left your hand in his as you stood face to face. “How about a warm nightcap to end our day?” ----------------------------***----------------------------

“... You are seeing this too, right? I’m not trippin’?!” “Shhhh! Don’t wake them up.” Charlie hissed at Angel, her eyes round like saucers, staring over the backrest, as did the others. “How can this creep still smile even when he’s sleeping?!”, Vaggie whispered loudly. Angel gave her a sly smile. “You’d smile too if a hot girl slept in your lap like that.” Husk groaned, pulling a paw over his face. “It’s too late and I’m too sober for this shit.” “SSSSSSSHHHHHH! Leave them alone, go! Go to bed, quietly, all of you!”, Charlie shushed them again, shooing them away from the sofa.

She quickly ran to the nearest cabinet, pulling out a thick blanket which she carefully draped over your and Alastors body. She took a few heartbeats to internalize what she everyone saw when they came home.

You looked like a couple. Of course Charlie knew you weren’t. Alastor - half-laying, half-sitting asleep on the sofa - had his arm around you, his head resting on the top of your head. You were serenely slumbering while nuzzled against his chest, legs pulled up and looking like you were mended to his side. You, too, were smiling. On the cofffee table in front of the sofa were two cups of what looked and smelled like hot milk with honey, the porcelain still faintly warm to the touch and the liquid barely touched. She suppressed the squeal she wanted to squeal.

After she was done, she quietly took a few steps back, scanning that you were both still fast asleep, then she took Vaggie’s hand and together they headed to their own room. Charlie knew you weren’t a couple. But she also knew that was only a matter of when you would become one, not if.

[dunmeshi-darlings]

omg yippee.

can I ask for you trying to wake Laios up after he falls asleep ontop of you? after like a long day of fighting shit. or something in that vein. he has big dog energy so I feel like its something he would do

(anon i had to use this gif for it, it was to good to pass up lol)

Nobody has ever claimed that adventuring in the dungeon would be easy work, in fact its notorious for being extremely difficult the further and further down you go

So you can imagine after a particularly grueling fight against a monster, that after everyone has eaten they would all be beyond exhausted. So its safe to say that its immediately bed time after senshi finishes up cleaning and everything.

However to your surprise, Laios doesn't head to his sleeping bag and instead heads to you with yours. When you ask him why he responds "after the last fight it looks like my bag got damaged...plus yours is way comfier." he would say with a slight blush. And looking over at his bag you see it fully rolled out and several noticeable large gouges and burn marks on it, seems he wasnt kidding.

You sigh and say that its ok, motioning for him to lay down. You thank yourself for deciding to get the EXTRA large sleeping bag since you often roll around in your sleep. He smiles excitedly and thanks you and takes the leftover pillows and blanket he has and lays down beside you, of course even then you two are still laying next to each other and basically laying side by side.

You cant help but notice just how warm he is, You can feel the heat radiating off of his body and sure you are phsyically touching but even then you note just how warm his body is next to and laying beside you. Of course with how tired you as well as everyone else is, you dont think about this too long before immediately falling asleep.

You have some nightmares about being crushed by a trap in your sleep, however the cause of said nightmares is quickly apparent when you finally wake up and realize that laios is no longer laying next to you....no now he is currently laying on top of you, his large frame draped across your chest and stomach as he he snores happily, an obvious drool stain at the corner of his mouth.

You cant help but chuckle softly, its no wonder laios was sleeping so peacefully. He saved everyones hides during the fight and took some nasty hits, so he definitely has earned his rest...However as you try to slowly move him you realize something very quickly....Laios is VERY heavy.

You hadnt really thought about it at first, But laios Armor is made of incredibly durable (and heavy) plate and with how easily he is able to move around in it as well as carry his sword, Laios has built up quiet a bit of muscle on himself. Add this together with his already impressive height and you have a man who is heavy with more muscle than most people realize.

You regret not listening to namari's advice in regards to building up some muscle mass for yourself as you try to move laios off yourself gently, as adorable as he is sleeping you really need him to move and you dont want to shout to wake him up cause you would feel bad. You struggle, quietly grunting as you try to wiggle out from under him, stopping whenever his snoring stops, only to return to your fruitless wiggling.

While laios doesnt wake up, your wiggling and quiet grunting drew Chilchucks attention once he finally woke. He tiredly looked over at you as you simply whispered "help me" to which he sighs and stands up, taking sleepy steps towards you and laios as he starts repeatedly smacking laios in the face. "hey laios! wake up your crushing Y/N"

After a few smacks laios's eyes groggily open as he rolls off you, yawning loudly and stretching before looking down and realizing he was laying on top of you. He blushes and rubs the back of his head, saying he was sorry. "sorry, so used to sleeping with my dogs where we would all just lay on top of each other and fall asleep, my bad."

Now that you are free from your meaty blond haired prison, you cant help but laugh at the situation, this was definitely something everyone will be able to make jokes about from here on out.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 57 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets home in time to take care of you when you need him the most, and he's ready to push aside his own exhaustion to let Noah celebrate Halloween. Announcements and plans are made, including some that you're looking forward to a lot more than Bradley is.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, mentions of miscarriage, swearing, smutty blowjob, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Noah woke up on Halloween, he made his way into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he went. Then he stopped short next to the table. "Daddy?"

Bradley spun around to see his son standing there in disbelief. "Hey, Bub," he said as a smile bloomed across his face. "I missed you." He knelt down, and Noah immediately trotted across the room and right into his open arms. "I made it back just in time to go trick-or-treating with you."

He kissed Noah's cheek and buried his nose in his son's soft curls, inhaling the scent of home. "We're all going to go," Noah said with conviction. "Even Skittles has a costume. And Aunt Natasha is going to get one, too. She promised."

"Then I guess it will be a party," Bradley told him, deciding now wasn't the best time to mention that you may rather spend the evening in bed. "Are you hungry?" he asked, standing up with his son in his arms, simply because he wasn't ready to stop holding him. "Do you want pancakes?"

Bradley knew it was bad when a four year old looked at you like he was convinced anything you tried to cook would be inedible. "Can Mommy make them?"

"Wow," Bradley said, trying not to laugh. He was pretty convinced five minutes ago that he'd be able to follow the directions on the box, but maybe not. "Do you really think Mommy is that much better at cooking than I am?"

"Yes. She is. Can she make the pancakes?"

Bradley laughed and kissed his cheek again. "How about I give it the old college try since Mommy is still sleeping, okay?" He held Noah while he measured out the water, but when it was time to crack an egg, he set him down at the table with a glass of milk and an activity book that you or Nat must have got for him. He looked at the egg, not quite trusting himself, and he cracked it into a bowl instead directly into the pancake mix. He ended up picking pieces of the shell out of the bowl, but once he started to stir everything together, it looked pretty damn good. 

"Okay," he muttered, wondering if you'd want to eat breakfast in bed if he managed to pull this off. He should order one of those tray tables for you to use. He dumped some of the batter into the hot pan and started to look online for a purple tray when he got a little distracted. 

"Daddy," Noah said, pointing to the stove as soon as Bradley smelled the pancake starting to burn.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, setting his finally fully charged phone aside. "It's okay, I'll eat this one," he promised, flipping it over with a spatula to reveal a blackened, smoking mess. Now he paid close attention to what he was doing, and the next ones turned out pretty well, but it was too late.

"What did you burn?" you asked from the doorway with a smile. When Bradley tossed the spatula aside and rushed to your side, you said, "For a minute there, I thought it was all a dream, and that you weren't really home yet at all. But then I smelled something burning and knew you must be."

He wrapped one arm around your waist, tilted your chin up with his fingers and kissed you, hoping to convey just how badly he had missed you. He didn't stop until Noah asked, "Mommy, can you make the pancakes?"

"Let's let Mommy rest," Bradley replied, stroking your neck with his fingertips. "Do you want me to bring a plate of food into the bedroom?" he asked you.

You shook your head and whispered, "I'm okay. I might take a nap later, but I'm fine, Daddy." Then you took his hand gently in yours and brought it to rest on your belly. "So is this little one."

"I wouldn't have blamed you," he blurted out, and you tucked your face against his chest. As your arms snaked around his waist, he said, "I would have been sad, but only because I'm so excited for the baby. But I wouldn't have blamed you or been upset with you, Princess."

You nodded and whispered, "I know. It was so scary though. And I don't think I could have gone much longer without you here."

"I'm home. And I'm cooking and doing everything. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Mommy, please," came Noah's exasperated voice. "The pancakes."

You started laughing against Bradley. "Do you want dinosaur pancakes?" you asked, and Noah gasped in delight. "I'll take that as a yes. Step aside, Daddy. Watch and learn."

But he didn't step aside. He stood behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder and told you over and over again how much he loved you while you prepared the most adorable breakfast he'd ever seen in his life. You cut up a pancake to look like a stegosaurus body and added spikes made out of sliced strawberries. You used part of a banana as the neck, and added chocolate chips as eyes. 

"Damn," Bradley said. "That's almost as cute as you are. Can I have one, too?" Then you cut up the burned pancake and made a much less cute looking dinosaur while he laughed the whole time. "Thanks. That's exactly how I wanted it."

"You're welcome," you told him with a smirk as you took some of the good pancakes for yourself. He guided you over to the table with all of the plates of breakfast, and Noah abandoned his book while he clapped his hands.

"Thank you, Mommy," he said as he shoved some strawberries into his mouth.

Then Bradley guided you down onto his lap and held you while you ate. "It's good to be home. When you're done eating, I want you to get back in bed and wait for me," he whispered, tracing your side gently with his fingers while he stuck his fork into his burnt dinosaur pancake.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said softly. "We can't do that. Not for a few more weeks. The doctors said my uterus has to thicken a bit more, and I-"

"Baby," Bradley said a little louder. "No. Don't apologize. I don't care about that. I want you to rest, but I also want to show you the books I bought in Tokyo."

You looked at him over your shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. "I want you to know that I did miss you that way, too."

"I missed you in every way imaginable, Princess."

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

Bradley ended up carefully carrying you to bed as you yawned, and he promised to clean up the kitchen and get things ready for Halloween.

"I want you to relax," he said for at least the tenth time as he dug around in his still unpacked duffle bag. "I'll take Noah out to buy some pumpkins in a little bit, and I'll leave you a sandwich in the fridge that you can eat when you want it. But in the meantime, look how cool these are."

He sat on the edge of the bed next to your thigh and handed you a stack of Japanese children's books. You smiled and looked at the covers. They ranged from some meant for a baby to ones that Noah would be interested in when he started school. "You were really thinking about your family the whole time, huh?"

"Every second I was gone," he promised, leaning down to kiss you. He would take care of everything, and Nat promised she'd come back later, and you really did almost feel like you could relax. But you still felt a little guilty even as he ran his lips and mustache along your cheek to your ear and whispered your name.

"You must be exhausted and jetlagged," you told him. "You're the one who should be resting."

He just shook his head, kissed you one more time and said, "I'll call Nat if I need her. Otherwise, I'm perfect because I'm with you. Rest."

Then he was gone, and you drifted off into the kind of beautiful sleep where you didn't have to worry about what time it was or when Noah needed to eat again. When you woke up after noon to a completely silent house, you ate your sandwich and then went right back to bed. Eventually Noah's laughter and the warm afternoon light that seemed impossible to sleep through had you out of bed again, but when you looked around the house, you didn't see anyone. The back door was open, and when you went into the kitchen, you saw Bradley and Noah carving pumpkins on the deck.

You walked outside in the random clothing you'd been sleeping in, and as soon as the sun hit your face, you didn't feel as exhausted anymore. "Mommy's up!" Noah cheered, jumping up to hug you with his slimy, orange hands. 

"Don't touch her until you wash your hands, Bub," Bradley called out with a grimace. "Too late."

"It's okay," you told him, kissing the top of Noah's head. "Are you happy Daddy made it home in time for Halloween?"

He looked up at you with a little crease along his brow. "I knew he would. That's why we bought him a costume."

"Speaking of which," Bradley said as he kissed your cheek without putting his messy hands on you, "it's almost time to get changed to go collect candy."

"And ride in the wagon!" Noah exclaimed.

"What wagon?" you asked.

"You'll see," Bradley replied with a little smirk. 

After a leisurely shower during which you didn't have to worry about anything except yourself, you dressed in your princess costume that you and Noah picked out from the Halloween warehouse and put on some makeup. Then you added your brand new crown, and you thought you looked pretty incredible. When you walked out to the living room and saw Noah dressed as a little prince, your heart melted. 

"Sweet Noah," you gushed as he held onto his treat bag, all ready to go. He was wearing his yellow paper crown that Bradley managed to procure from some unknown spot in the house, and he just looked precious. 

"I like your crown, Mommy," he said, pointing to the gold one you were wearing.

You smiled. "I like my purple paper crown better."

"Don't laugh." You turned to see Bradley standing behind you in his rather ill fitting knight costume. It kind of looked like he was wearing aluminum foil that was a size too small, but he had a smile on his face, and his costume crinkled when you hugged him. "Hey, Mav and Penny are planning to stop by to take some photos with Noah, but if you want me to call them back and tell them we just want a quiet evening, I can do that."

You shook your head against his crunchy costume as you laughed. "We should tell them about the baby when they get here."

"Yeah?" he asked excitedly. "You want to?"

"I mean, Nat and Javy know. Dr. Kelly knows. I think Mav and Penny should know now, too."

"I love this idea," he whispered, letting his fingers gently glide along the front of your dress. "You're feeling better now?"

You nodded, but Noah didn't really let you answer before he started clapping as he looked out the front door. "Aunt Natasha is back!" 

She walked in dressed as a jester and picked Noah up to give him a kiss. A minute later, Maverick, Penny and Amelia were all there as well, and phones were being passed around along with Noah, because everyone wanted their picture with the tiny prince. 

"Okay, let me take one of everyone in front of the pumpkins on the porch," Bradley said as he collected a few phones in his hands and headed outside. He smirked at you as he added, "Everyone needs to squeeze together a little bit more. Make sure both of my kids are in there."

"Both?" Penny asked before she gasped, and the first photo Bradley took was of her turning to look at you with wide eyes. "Both?!"

"I'm pregnant," you announced with a smile, and the second photo Bradley took was of everyone else with wide eyes, too. And he snapped a few more where Nat was holding Noah with a grin on her face while the others all hugged you.

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

After a brief argument on your end, Bradley managed to get you and Noah both settled into the oversized wagon he bought earlier this afternoon. Then he clipped Skittles' leash on before attaching her tiny crown to her head. "There we go. The royal family is now complete."

"Have fun!" Nat called out, waving from the front porch with the bowl of candy, already crowded with neighborhood kids looking for their treats. 

"I don't need to be pulled in a wagon all night," you protested as Bradley scoffed.

"What kind of knight would I be if I wasn't doting on the two of you." Skittles barked, so he added, "I meant the three of you."

"Four," you said, pointing to your belly as he pulled the wagon down the driveway. 

"My point is," he said loudly, "I will be doting on my entire family all night long, and there's nothing you can do about it. Please keep your arms and legs inside the royal carriage until we come to a complete stop."

He very dutifully pulled up to each house before lifting Noah out and taking him up to collect his piece of candy. Bradley got the chance to enjoy so many of his neighbors telling him how sweet his son looked, and he kept reminding Noah to say thank you. After about an hour, two treat bags had been filled up with candy, and you looked like you were having fun. You even started waving from the wagon at everyone you passed like a real princess would.

"This is really fun," you said, holding on to Noah as Bradley turned another corner. 

"I love Halloween!" his son shouted. 

Truthfully, it was a bit of a challenge for Bradley to pull the wagon, keep Skittles from barking at the other kids, and take Noah up to each house and back, but he wasn't about to complain. Not after everything you'd done and been through while he was in Japan. But he would sleep well tonight. That was a given. 

"I think this was the last house," Bradley said, stifling his own yawn. "Feel like chatting about our wedding on the way back home?" he asked as Noah yawned as well and settled down in the wagon with you.

It was hard to read your face in the darkness. "What do you want to chat about?" you asked softly.

"How soon will you let me marry you?"

You laughed and said, "How soon do you want to get married?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Hmm," you hummed. "Seems like that would be short notice for wedding guests."

"We don't need wedding guests," he said, and he meant it. "You still want to use our backyard?"

"Yes."

Bradley slowed down over a particularly uneven part of the sidewalk. "Are you still set on Valentine's Day?  Because I'm thinking Christmas."

"Christmas?" you repeated. "Like less than two months from now?"

Bradley pulled the wagon up the driveway past the Bronco, and of course Noah was sound asleep. As soon as he scooped his son off of your lap, Nat came rushing over from her seat on the porch. "I can get him changed and put him in bed."

He didn't argue with her, rather he handed Noah off and focused on helping you out of the wagon. "Yeah. Less than two months from now. I keep thinking about how you threw me a Christmas in July birthday party. We could have a Christmas wedding, too. And after that, we can start the adoption process."

You moaned his name as he took your hand and headed for the house. "You know the way to my heart is through Noah."

He straightened out your crown, still rather fond of your purple one which was sitting safely on his dresser. "Is that a yes?" he whispered, kissing you softly while a few remaining kids ran down the sidewalk laughing. "We can make it official? And I can take care of you forever?"

"Yes."

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

Bradley helped you out of your princess costume after he stripped out of his knight costume, and his lips met the bare skin of your shoulder immediately. "I love you," he murmured, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the bed. But it didn't feel sexual. You knew that wasn't why he was being exceptionally wonderful right now.

"I love you, too."

His forehead came to rest against yours, and his hands were so gentle on your hips. "I'm just relieved to be home. And I'm sorry I wasn't here last week. If something worse had happened to you while I was gone, when you really needed me, I don't know what I would have done."

"We're all okay," you whispered, pushing him until he was sitting down on the bed looking up at you. "And I feel a lot better since I've been resting more." Your skin felt warm and tingly as he kissed you. Six weeks was a long time, and you knew Bradley hadn't even had access to all of the photos and videos on his phone to keep him company. And you did want it to feel sexual, because you missed every bit of him.

"Lay back on your pillow and wait for me," you told Bradley with a smile, using his words against him. 

He did as he was told and patted the spot next to him as he said, "Does that mean you're ready to snuggle with me?"

"Something like that, Daddy."

As soon as you licked your lips and reached for the front of his sweatpants, his eyes went wider. "No, Baby. You don't have to do that."

"I want to," you promised, pulling the fabric down to reveal his soft length. He still looked delicious even like this. You desperately wanted him in your mouth. You met his eyes and whispered, "Please?"

He was panting softly, the rise and fall of his chest so alluring even through his undershirt. He moaned your name and made a strangled sound before he reached for your hand. When he sat up slowly and kissed you gently, he placed your hand on his cock, and he immediately throbbed for you. 

As you rubbed your thumb down his length and along his balls, he grew harder. "You missed me touching you like this," you sang in a quiet voice, watching him as he watched your hand. When his eyes flitted back to your face he nodded. "Tell me you did, Bradley."

He swallowed hard, and his voice was so raspy, your hand faltered. "I missed you like this. I thought about your body when I touched myself, but my hands aren't as soft and perfect as yours."

"Daddy," you whimpered, leaning down to kiss away his precum before taking him between your lips.

But he continued on as you sucked, driving you as wild as you were driving him. "I thought about you with a pregnant belly. I thought about how much I'm going to love fucking you when you're big and round. Big because of my baby."

You took him deep, letting him tap the back of your throat as you saw stars along your vision. "Fuck! Princess! I'm not even gonna last."

Slowly, you let your lips glide back up his length, sucking all the way to his tip. "Then just go ahead and come, Daddy. I want you to."

When he collapsed back against the pillow and tucked one arm beneath his head, you took him deep again. He wasn't kidding, because you could see the veins in his neck as his face grew pink, and you knew he was already close. You didn't rush him along, but you bobbed to a pace that left him grabbing at the bedding with his free hand.

"Baby!" he whined, rolling his hips up until you were starting to gag, and then he came. You were sputtering, swallowing him down as quickly as you could as your name fell from his lips over and over again. "Come up here," he demanded, and when you crawled toward him as you licked your lips clean, he gathered you carefully in his arms.

You never felt as loved as you did when you were with him. His body was perfectly warm and everything you had been missing. His voice calmed every part of you. "December," he whispered as he played with your engagement ring. It took you a moment to realize what he meant as he kissed at your lips. "December. We'll get married. We'll all be Bradshaws. Me and you and Noah and the baby. That's all I need."

"And Skittles."

"Please. She's my best non-human friend. It's unspoken."

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

When Bradley promised to meet you at your lunchtime appointment with your obstetrician on Wednesday, you were a little skeptical. 

"Even if I have to flip off Admiral Simpson and tell him to go fuck himself, I will be there."

You had laughed at the time, but you should have known he wouldn't miss a chance to interrogate your doctor in his flight suit. He stood next to you as you were told to lie back on the table for a pelvic exam, and he kept his eyes on you through the uncomfortable experience, looking down at you like you were the best thing in the world. 

"Does she need another progesterone shot today?" he asked softly as you reached for his hand. "And are you going to monitor her with more appointments? And will we get to see an ultrasound?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Your doctor looked at you and said, "We'll monitor you more closely even after you're done with the injections. We are going to consider you high risk."

"High risk?" you gasped. "That sounds very bad."

"It's not!" he insisted as he guided you to sit up a little bit. "It just means you and the baby get extra attention."

Bradley looked the doctor in the eye and said, "She wants to go to Disneyland for a day or two. Is that even okay?"

You were ready to pout and tell both of them that you felt fine now. There had been no more blood. You were getting plenty of rest. Then he said the words you'd been hoping to hear. "Disneyland would be fine. Just don't overdo it."

"Yes!" you cheered. "Noah will be so excited! Let's go for Thanksgiving!"

Bradley opened his mouth, and you could tell he wanted to protest, but your doctor started to spread gel on your belly, and then the baby was visible on the screen on the wall when the ultrasound started up. "Oh damn," Bradley whispered, suddenly mesmerized by what he saw as he gripped your hand tighter. "Look at the heartbeat. Look at the baby."

"Does he or she look healthy?" you asked, mesmerized as well.

"Very healthy, but we will keep a close eye on things."

When Bradley walked you back to your car which was parked next to the Bronco, you pulled him to a stop. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and your scrubs rubbed gently against his flight suit. "Will you please let me plan a few days at Disneyland?"

"Two days," he replied immediately, clearly already resigned to his fate. "And you have to stay hydrated. And if you even start to look tired, I'm going to push you around in a wheelchair. And if you say anything hurts, we're leaving immediately."

"Disney!" you practically screamed as you bobbed up and down in his grasp and kissed his cheek. "I can't wait to tell Noah! I'll see you at home later, Daddy."

"I'll pick Noah up along with dinner. When I get home you better have your feet up and a glass of water in your hand."

"I will," you promised, matching his serious expression with one of your own. "I'll be very careful. And I'll plan our little vacation. And you'll take exceptional care of everything else."

"You know I will."

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

We should all have a Bradley in our lives to let us rest and heal when we need to. That man is going to take care of everything and probably plan a wedding, too. Is Nat also going to Disneyland? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 58

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[ozzgin]

Hello!

🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.

Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?

I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?

The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.

Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually

Sincerely

-🌟

Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;

Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)

Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.

“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.

“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”

“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.

The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.

The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.

You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.

You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.

And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.

This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.

“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”

You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.

“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.

Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.

Unfortunately, there is no time for that.

The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.

The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.

“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.

“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”

He stares in confusion.

“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.

“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”

Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.

“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”

He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.

“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.

This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.

“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”

What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.

“Sure. I know a better place, though.”

Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.

“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”

“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”

“Excuse me?”

Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.

“H-hey, what did you mean-”

The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.

You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.

“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.

The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.

“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.

Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.

“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”

Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.

Your bodyguard truly knows you best.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.

pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader

summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…

warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.

“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.

You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.” 

Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.

Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up. 

“You asked me to stay behind, sir?” 

“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.” 

Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.

“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”

“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months. 

“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor. 

That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself. 

Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending. 

In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning. 

Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—

Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times. 

“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”

Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages. 

Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame. 

“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice. 

“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“

“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.” 

His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -

“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk. 

Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor. 

You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it. 

This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first. 

“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.

“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”

“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything. 

Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week. 

“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat. 

You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew. 

Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?” 

“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”

“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”

This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear. 

With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely. 

You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”

Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?

“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.” 

The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—

Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch. 

“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed. 

His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder. 

Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further. 

Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone. 

Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat. 

His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”

You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.

“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close. 

“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now. 

You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.” 

“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”

“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision. 

A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back. 

“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat. 

You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you. 

He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest. 

His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”

“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp. 

“You’ll be a good girl for me?”

“The best.” 

A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure. 

Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body. 

His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”

Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”

You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you. 

“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”

You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further. 

“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.

“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees. 

“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”

Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching. 

You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle. 

“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.

“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats. 

“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt. 

“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”

Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”

Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold. 

“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly. 

“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.” 

You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face. 

“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing. 

“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“

Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex. 

He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt. 

You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”

He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt. 

You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before. 

Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.

Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”

You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.

“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!”  then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.

“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you. 

“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”

“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter. 

“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack. 

“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”

The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride. 

“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”

Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.

His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in. 

Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further. 

“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure. 

“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close. 

The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch. 

“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.

You merely mewled back at him in response. 

“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity. 

Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.

For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors. 

He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.

Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.” 

You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.

Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.” 

[moon-rivr]

after hours

pairing: professor miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: age gap, reader’s kinda clumsy 😭, reader mentioned having glasses, oral fixation, oral (m receiving), intercourse

author’s note: sry this took so long to get out, hope y’all enjoy though <3 (i do not condone student/teacher relationships irl, pls keep it within fiction 😖)

word count: 4.6k

The falling of the leaves and the chilly temperatures seemed to fade away with the stress of your upcoming finals week, the end of the fall semester nearing with each day that passed. While you'd done your part and studied the course material over and over again until you could recite it while making your morning cereal, you were just as panicked as any student would be. The exams proved to be easier than you'd expected, your studying proving effective when you got all positive scores back. Your winter break was mostly full of rewatching Elf and Home Alone with your roommate before she had to go back home, not wanting her to spend the season alone.

You went back to your family's house for winter break, spending the holidays watching corny Hallmark movies and catching up on the sleep that you'd been deprived of for the last couple weeks. It seemed like the stress you'd adjusted yourself to living to had finally disappeared, every fiber of your being just enjoying the feeling of being in the moment without worrying about what comes tomorrow or the day after that. Even your family had noted the change in your behavior after a couple short days, noting that you were much more approachable after you'd had a couple days to relax.

You couldn't help but feel like something still lingered over you despite living in that bliss, like you had still had something left to do. On the last day of your break, you'd realized that in the midst of the chaos that was studying and preparing for finals, you'd completely forgotten about registering for the fall semester. (despite the constant reminders from your counselor) You grabbed your laptop off your desk, rushing to open your school's website to get that done. You managed to get decent professors this semester along with a schedule that wasn't too straining, stacking your classes for two days so you'd be able to have the rest of the week to study/do homework.

You'd selected a couple decent professors after checking their reviews on 'Rate my Professor', only having to select a professor for the genetics course that you had to take. You let out a small groan when you realized that only one professor was available in the building for that course at the moment, all the other professors not even bothering to show up in the search results. You switched to the 'Rate my Professor' tab on your computer, typing in the name 'Miguel O'Hara' in the search bar. his review wasn't too bad at first glimpse, a 2.9 out of a five stars. Okay, maybe not the best, but definitely better than the last professor you had last semester at 2.5 stars.

It was only then that you realized what you were getting yourself involved in, most of the positive reviews being on the basis that he was an attractive professor. Different variations of  "his class is so hard but he's so hot!" popped on your screen the longer that you scrolled, the few useful reviews being a couple pages after the obvious thirst. "Made me cry myself to sleep, would not recommend" was one of the reviews that popped out to you, your fingers coming up to your temples as you resisted the urge to let out a groan. Even if you wanted to pick a different professor, the only course that had spots open for this semester was this one. What the hell were you getting yourself into?

You were sleeping peacefully, the warmth of your blanket enveloping you the way that a tight hug would when you felt someone shaking your shoulder. "What's up?" Your voice came out groggy as you woke up, eyes struggling to get adjusted to the rays of sunshine coming through the window. "Don't you have an eight am class? It's already 7:30," your roommate's words served to wake you up from your slumber, your back practically shooting up like an arrow as you sat up. "Ah fuck, thanks," you muttered, your feet intertwining between your bedsheets as you went to go get up. Your butt landed against the floor after you tried to get out of the mess that you were in, an indication of how this day was going to go.

You discarded of the blanket after figuring out the mess you'd gotten enveloped in, your feet matching the agility of an Olympic athlete as you rushed into the bathroom. While you knew that you were most likely going to be late, you wanted to reduce the amount of time which you were late by. You made quick work of brushing your teeth, the minty taste of your toothpaste filling up your nostrils as it got rid of your morning breath. Your hands couldn't work fast enough to rub in your body wash, your rag almost slipping from your fingers a couple times just from the sheer velocity. You’d even resorted to begging with the shower head, prompting it to rinse you off faster than it was doing.

You got out of the shower to see that the clock on your nightstand read 7:50, confirming your thoughts that you were going to be late. You peeled the towel from your body once you felt that you were dry enough, rushing over to your closet to pick out something to wear. You figured that those comments underneath the website were exaggerating, almost like you wanted to validate your decision for picking out a pair of grey sweatpants. After putting the bottoms on, you settled for putting a black hoodie on along with the first shoes that you found in your closet. In your rushed attempts to get dressed, you didn't notice that you'd grabbed two different sets of shoes, the two of them coming out to be a left.

You had to resist the urge to groan out at your situation, keeping the shoe that you had on before going back to your closet to find the matching pair. Almost as if the shoe could sense your despair, it managed to vanish into thin air when you needed it most. The floor of your closet looked like the aftermath of a hurricane, clothes scattered all over the floor with some shoes landing next to them in your search. You gave up on looking for the other shoe after you made sure to check in what seemed to be every inch of your closet, only to find it under your bed where you'd just been a couple minutes beforehand. While you wanted to reprimand yourself for not bothering to look there first, it could wait with the time crunch that you were running in.

Not only were you late, but you had managed to get lost in the first couple minutes of stepping into the building. Your feet make quick work of going up and down the stairs, your eyes darting across the different classrooms in attempt to find the room number that you were looking for. You were a panting mess by the end of it, and not only that, but it was now 8:15 and you were nowhere near where you had to be. You let out a small resigned sigh and decided to make your way downstairs to the information desk, your foot impatiently tapping on the floor as you waited for the line to disappear in front of you. Your eyes kept darting over to the clock nervously, like with the sheer power of your mind, you'd be able to stop time for the moment.

"Hi, what can i help you with?" The woman at the desk asked you as you approached, your hands almost dropping your phone as you took it out so you could tell her the room number. "Hi, I'm looking for room A143, do you know where I could find that?" You asked her, taking a couple seconds to catch as your breath as your eyes followed the direction she was pointing in. The stupid classroom had been in the hallway behind you. "Thank you," you managed to get out before collecting yourself, pushing your backpack over your shoulders as you retreated back to the hallway she pointed at. Most of your professors had been pretty cool with their late policy so you weren't stressing out too much about what their reaction would be.

The noises in the classroom came to a halt, the only thing that could be heard was the door closing behind you. You could feel everyone's eyes on you as you walked in, their gazes following you as you walked to find a seat. You felt like the newest spectacle at the circus, even the teacher had stopped what he was doing as you made your way through the vast amount of seats. What the fuck is so interesting that they can't stop looking? The class continued with what was being discussed after you found your seat, the subject on the board being about how crucial it is to show up to class.

"Before we were rudely interrupted, I was going over how important it is to be attending class. On time. While the lessons are recorded online, there are some pop quizzes in this course and I do not offer any sort of retakes for those," the professor spoke, his words almost seeming to be directed towards you after the unceremonious entrance you'd made. Well, that and the glare that he wore on his face after you'd come in. Your eyes darted down to his front row, already noticing his adoring group of fans nodding and smiling at his every word like he was a form of a god. You resisted the urge to laugh at the fact, looking back up at the Powerpoint he was explaining in heavy detail.

"Excuse me, can I talk to you for minute?" You heard from behind you, your professor resting his hand on your shoulder just as you were trying to leave. "Yes, professor? My apologies about being late, I got lost on my way her-" you started off, trying to offer him some kind of explanation but he was quick to stop that notion before you had the chance to finish speaking. "Save me your excuses. You'll be quick to learn that the world isn't accommodating to your every need and desire. Now, what I just wanted to say is that I expect you to act like you at least want to be in my class. I don't have time to deal with slackers like you, and if you thought this was going to be an easy A, I would recommend dropping out immediately," his tone came out cold as he spoke, the grip on your shoulder loosening to let you know you'd been dismissed.

You weren't even sure if anything you would've said to him would've been able to change his mind so you chose to leave while your pride was still intact. While you weren't an overachiever in your academic career by any means, you wanted him to swallow the words that you knew he was thinking. The words that he was implying when he told you he wouldn't stand for you being a waste of his time, wanting to prove him wrong and show that you were more than capable of being in his classroom. So you decided to make yourself focus more on his textbook, of studying his material more often so you'd have an easier time understanding what the lectures were about.

In that process, you'd also started making an attempt to dress up a bit for the days which you'd have class for. You'd asked your roommate to borrow some of her shirts, never touching the skirts she kept at the back of her closet. You figured that the shirts in enough themselves were enough to push you out of your boundaries, the cropped material a stark difference to the band graphic tees that you often chose to wear. You wanted to excuse it as it being that you wanted to appear more professional in front of Miguel, but the truth was that you just didn't want him to see you in clothes you'd probably go to bed in after coming home from campus.

You'd been rigorously studying for a days now, your under eyes starting to turn black with how much time you're spending in the library. Your eyes strained as you read the textbook underneath you, having stayed up until four in the morning the day prior to get an assignment done. The desk wasn't something that you deemed particularly comfortable in the moment, but you figured that it would at least be comfortable for your nap. As soon as you let your head make contact with the table underneath you, you could've sworn that thing turned into the best memory foam mattress. You turned on your alarm for a couple minutes, wanting to just close your eyes for a bit before going back to studying.

While you had been alert enough to turn off your alarm when you heard the screeching app on your phone wail for your attention, you weren't alert enough to keep your eyes open after you did. So much for staying awake. Your arms proved to be the most comfortable mattress at the moment as you laid your head down, your glasses making their way down to the tip of your nose. Your break was starting to be longer than you expected it to be, but you figured you'd just spend more hours awake afterwards to make up for the fact. For now, though, the least you could do was enjoy the serene atmosphere of the library and the comfortability of the desk underneath you.

You felt someone's touch against your face, a finger pushing your glasses up to the bridge of your nose. While the gesture felt nice at first, the person's voice you heard speaking to you was anything but. "Wake up, it's already nine," your genetics professor's voice called out to you, your eyes fluttering open in a frenzy as his words sunk in. "Ah, thank you," you muttered, still half asleep as you sat up to face him. You looked up at him in your dazed state, noticing the way that he was already looking down at you like he wanted to make sure you were okay. Or maybe that you weren't high, considering who you were standing in front of.

"I was printing some papers out when I saw you all slouched over the table, wanna tell me what you're doing here after hours?" He asked, setting down the stack of papers as he kept his firm gaze on your own. "Didn't mean to stay here so late, I was planning on taking a break from my studying but my alarm didn't really wake me up," you spoke up, rubbing your eyes as you got adjusted to the library's harsh lighting. You stretched out your arms, sitting up straight before fixing the scattered papers underneath you. You were expecting him to leave afterwards, but he surprised you by picking up the textbook you'd been annotating on.

"I can tutor you if that's something you'd like," he suggested, the string of surprises only continuing with how nonchalant he was being with his offer. "You don't have to do that," you muttered, starting to put your stuff away before you embarrassed yourself any further. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to do it, it seems i misunderstood your lateness as disinterest and I apologize. Please let me make it up to you," he told you, his fingertips barely grazing yours as he handed your textbook back to you. "Alright. I'll send you an email just to confirm and ask what days work for you, professor. Thanks for waking me up and the whole thing," you finally conceded, knowing that this was more of an advantage for you than him.

Your tutoring sessions with Miguel were on Mondays and Fridays which coincided with your schedule, so you could at least give him some kudos for his consideration. "Here, you're gonna mess up your teeth if you keep it up with those damn pens," he spoke out of the blue one day while you were in the middle of reading, his hand extended to offer you a cherry lollipop. "Thanks, I didn't think I was being too obvious with the pen thing though," you responded, taking the lollipop out of its wrapper before sticking it in your mouth. "My hearing's somewhat sensitive, thought it was a mouse in the walls or something," he explained, bringing in a lollipop everytime the two of you would meet up.

"Yeah, there you go. That's it, complete that thought princess," you heard from behind you, Miguel’s praise shooting down to your core as soon as you heard it. You weren't sure what it was about him that made you seek out his approval so much, the need to have him approve the work that you did. You could admit that you didn't understand the copious amounts of thirsty comments left under his Rate my Professor page at first, but with the way that he was talking to you now, it was definitely much more easier to understand their perspective. "You're improving so much in my class, I always knew you were a smart one. Nomas era de ponerte las pilas," his feedback was surprisingly positive as he read through your work, only a couple red markings on grammatical errors in your paper. (it was just about getting your act together)

You found yourself participating in class more and more often just to hear the little "good job's" that he would give you as a result, his attention locked on you as you explained the material based on what you believed it to be. You couldn't help but seek out the way that he looked at you more and more, growing enamored with the way he just maintained eye contact while you spoke like you were the most interest person in the room. You hated to admit, especially to yourself, but you were slowly starting to feel like those girls that just took his course for the fact that Miguel was the professor. Not only would his praise be consistent throughout the lectures, but he made sure to provide you with positive feedback throughout your tutoring sessions.

Your thoughts kept going back to what it would be like to have your mouth wrapped around his cock instead of the stupid pen you'd settled for, your drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth. You would settle for just warming his cock with your mouth, having him use you as some form of relief while he harshly annotated on students' papers. And maybe, just maybe, when he was done with that, he'd let you suck his cock the way that you wanted to. Your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock the way you'd sucked on lollipops, your mouth eagerly taking his cock. You could practically feel your mouth salivate at the image of him cum painting your face white, your tongue catching a few of the drops as you looked up at him.

Your fantasies seemed to come to life when he tapped on your shoulder after he was finished passing out the exam papers, his stare almost seeming to know what lewd thoughts you'd been having about him. "Stay after class for me, will you?" Miguel asked you after passing you the paper, making sure nobody was looking around as he spoke to you. You nodded along to his request, your mind taking you to the filthiest of places as you wondered just what exactly he'd want to do with you when you were alone. You could barely focus on the test that your grade depended on, the fruition of the work that you'd been putting in these last couple sessions with Miguel at the library. You nibbled down on the tip of you pen, your concentration regarding the test at an all time low.

Miguel wasted no time on getting you on your knees after everyone had left, your mouth eager to take anything that he'd give you at the moment. Your spit ran down the sides of his cock as he egged you on, his praise making the wetness inside of your legs grow. "Tan bien que lo tomas, princesa. Least you're good for something other than coming late to my class," his praise had the slightest bit of a condescending tone underneath it, but with his balls in your mouth, you were willing to overlook that small detail. (you take it so well, princess) Your nails raked down his muscular thighs, shivers running down his spine as a result from your overwhelmingly soft touch. It felt like a juxtaposition, your throat roughly taking his cock as your nails gently scratched down on his thighs before one of your hands wrapped around the base of his cock.

His cock pummeled from behind you as you were bent over the desk, tears coating all over the assignments that he'd just graded. "Sigue llorando y you're gonna be the one explaining why everyone's paper has tear marks on it, nena," he grunted from behind you, your pussy squeezing his cock like you wanted to milk all the cum he could give you. (keep crying) You wanted to feel some form of shame as you looked down at the papers, but even that was short lived as you felt his cock push deeper into you.

His hand rested on your lower tummy, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you. "Pussy's practically sucking me in, I'll give you anything you want," he murmured, his hand pressing down on the bulge that had formed with every thrust that he made. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as you tried to push him off you, all while simultaneously fucking yourself back into his dick. "Trying to push me off con lo mojada que estas? Let me please you, just wanna stay like this a little longer," his grip on your hips didn't falter, slapping sounds echoing all throughout the empty lecture hall. (with how wet you are)

You turned to look at him behind your shoulder, the sight in itself almost enough to make you cum right then and there. Sweat beaded across his forehead, black locks framing his face as they stuck onto the sides. the white button down that he'd chosen to wear today had a few of the buttons undone, his black tie loosened as the end hung by his shoulder. You let out a loud moan as you felt his hips snapping into yours, his large hand coming down to muffle your sounds.

"Shh, gotta be quiet for me. don't want anyone coming in and seeing how good you're gripping my cock," he whispered in your ear, your pussy clenching at the way his voice dropped an octave when he spoke to you. A reaction that wasn't missed by Miguel. "That get you off, hermosa? ¿Qué todos vean lo que haces despues de clase? ¿Lo sucia que eres para mí?" His words almost served to mock you despite the decadence that his voice took. While you shook your head to try to deny the claims that he was making, your pussy spoke in higher volumes than your mouth ever could. You clenched around him tightly, a new wave of arousal coating his cock completely. (that everyone sees what you do after class? how dirty you are for me?)

His thrusts were unrelenting as he fucked into you, the need seeping out of his every pore with every kiss that he laid on the crook of your neck. "Could never get tired of this pretty pussy," he babbled on like a mad man, his words coming out as broken sentences as your pussy gripped around his dick like a vice. "Fucking milking my cock, i'm gonna give it to you though. Wanna see my cum running down your legs as you stumble back into your dorm," his voice came out strained, his thrusts starting to lose the steady rhythm that he'd been working towards. You were eagerly awaiting for that release that never came, chatter in the background bringing you back to the present.

Fuck, even your fantasies were having fantasies at this point. Your thighs were practically clenching together at the picture, your slick coating the panties you'd chosen to wear for today. "Are you paying attention?" The same voice that had been in your fantasies had been the one to break you out of them, his fingers snapping in front of you. While you didn't want to add more fuel to the fire that was your delusions, you couldn't help but notice that you were the only student that he'd called out. Hell, someone was playing Cool Math Games right in front of you. "Sorry, I got distracted," you muttered, trying to pretend like you weren't just thinking of those two fingers he was snapping fucking you dumb, his thick digits opening you up as your slick coated them.

"Remember what we talked about," he spoke just low enough for you to hear, the threatening tone in his voice losing all it's power with the images ingrained into your brain now. However, you could at least manage to give him a feeble nod to avoid making a bigger fool out of yourself in his class. He didn't seem satisfied with the response that he got but he let the matter go, going back to the lecture about how cell reproduction and mutation works. You couldn't help but notice that he kept looking over at you, his way of making sure that your attention remained on the lecture that he was giving. You were about to nibble on the tip of your pen subconsciously, only dropping it when you remembered what Miguel had told you about your little habit.

You made your way out of his class before he had the chance to stop you and ask what was going on, blending into the mass of students that were rushing to get out. You were already running through the different excuses that you could use as to why you missed today's study session, maybe that you fell down the stairs? While the lie was plausible, he had a strange way of reading you like the words of his favorite book. Nothing that you said or did went unnoticed by him, little ticks that you weren't even sure you had until he pointed them out. You decided to discard the idea of lying to him, simply settling with 'i couldn't make it' if he asked about it.

You could hardly face Miguel after the thoughts that were running through your mind, your eyes drifting to his lips everytime that he spoke. Not only was the way that he spoke so eloquent, but his lips just looked so damn inviting. You'd tried to get him out of your mind after the first couple times that it happened, eventually just giving up on the mission as a whole. While the dreams that you had started to become something normal that you faced everytime you fell asleep, the impact that they left on you was still the same. Little did you know that while your thoughts were running rampant, Miguel’s thoughts mirrored yours.

You were so close to him, your lips almost barely grazing his at this angle. It would be so easy for him to indulge in a taste of something so forbidden, your lipgloss just begging to be smudged by his own lips. It would be so easy for him to forget the position of power he was in, so easy for him to pretend like he's just Miguel for a moment and you're just you. So, he did and he leaned in to press his lips against yours. The taste of the all too familiar cherry lipgloss overwhelmed his senses the moment that his lips made contact with yours, his mouth eagerly savoring this moment. It was easy for him to forget about anything other than the way that you taste, the way that you feel. Well, that was until he ended up waking up by the sound of his alarm.

taglist: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

[wonderlandwalker]

Living Nightmares | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick wakes up to find you slipping away from him. As he tries to get help, he loses track of you, only to find you in the hands of the careers. The situation seems to get worse before he finally thinks he's at peace, but you're there to remind him to keep going.

Content Warnings/Tags: angst, a whole lot of it, fluff at the end though I'm not a monster, mentions of blood, hypothermia, violence

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I've been obsessing over our boy Finnick so here's a fic full of angst, because apparently that's the only thing my brain can think of. Dividers by @chilumitos

This wasn’t exactly where they had thought they’d be at the moment. It all started during the second day in the arena, they had the allies, they had the supplies, and they thought they had the advantage, but worry took over as they started losing sight of each other in a chase, and they tried to find the others, only to end up in a new part of the arena. It was dark, cold, and they had lost their supplies, and there was no food or water source nearby.

Neither of them was really to blame. It had been a long day, and the surroundings didn't inspire much hope. So, both of them had fallen asleep on some of the leaves that covered the ground. The cold air was still blowing around them.

But at least he wasn't alone, two sets of minds were better than one, at least he still had you.

The rising sun urged him to open his eyes, and he stretched out his arms, which had become stiff from the cold. It was only when he sat up and ran his hand through the hair that had fallen in your face that he noticed how cold you were. He quickly got up from behind you, pulling you into his lap, tilting your head up a little. Your skin was almost as white as snow, and your lips were starting to turn blue. The colour that once held so many fond memories of the ocean and the sky, now being replaced by fear and panic. He shook you lightly, trying to wake up as if you were just sleeping deeply. When you didn't react, he called out for you, his voice laced with concern.

“Y/n? Come on love, wake up.” But the only movement that came from you was your arm falling from where it was, the harsh thud to the ground reinforcing his fears.

“No, no come on. This isn't happening, wake up” Finnick had thought about this happening, how could he not when it was the basis for most of his nightmares? But he always woke up from those to find you resting in his arms, your soft breathing comforting him back to sleep. This time he didn't wake up, and he didn't hear your breathing to soothe him. He checked your pulse for a heartbeat, but all he could feel was his own heart racing in his chest. He looked around him as if there would be someone there to help, but you were alone.

He started CPR to try and quicken up your pulse, to get you to breathe again, and while he knew you probably couldn't hear him, he had to try.

“Do you remember when you came back from your first games, I really thought that had been the scariest moment of my life. When I survived my own, at least I knew you were alright at home. When you came back, I thought it was over, I wanted to see the positive side, but you seemed so weak, and having watched you, I knew how bad of a state you were in. It tore me apart to have to see it and not be able to do anything." His voice cracks a little, his head starting to swim with more thoughts.

"I won’t do this without you. You can't leave me now, not like this." He pushes a little harder on your chest while doing compression. He's sure if he does so anymore, he will crack one of your ribs.

"I imagined us getting married. I imagined proposing to you by the lake, that little spot you showed me, I know how happy you were in the middle of the field of dandelions. Every worry seemed to slip away from you, like a little hideaway from the horrors of the world. That's how you make me feel every time I'm with you. It's like there is no one in the whole world except us. And I know how cliche that sounds, I know you never liked cliches, but it's true, you are my world, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

Right as he was about to pour out more of his heart to you, he heard a noise coming from the distance. The steps were too heavy to be coming from a small animal, but his instincts also told him that whoever it was, they weren't there to help.

He knew he had two options. try and fight off whatever was coming while carrying the love of his life with him. Or keep you hidden, try and fight while distracting them away from you and coming back when the coast was clear. He tried his best to hide you underneath a blanket of leaves, making you disappear into the surroundings, he gave you a light kiss on the forehead, scared to get too close and feel how cold your skin still was. He heard the footsteps come closer.

“Just hold on a little longer darling, I’ll be back before you know it.”

And so he turned around, grabbing his trident a little harder than normal, and came face to face with one of the careers. Finnick's muscles were still sore from the night, but he was ready to run. He had to get away from here before the tribute started to wonder if he had been alone.

He ran towards a clearing, making the tribute follow behind him. He ran to a split in the path, which gave him two options, left or right. He heard rustling coming not far behind him, and his instincts told him to go right, so he did. He ran for a while until he reached a dead end, the line of trees becoming so dense he couldn't get through anymore. The tribute was still on his heels, and Finnick had to think fast again. He saw a body of water nearby and decided that diving in, despite the creatures that might be in it, and the chilling temperature it must be, would be better than certain death. He knew he would be able to outswim the career, it luckily being one of his strengths. He started to run towards it, and when he got to the edge, he jumped like his life depended on it, but it still wasn't his life he was worried about, it was yours.

Once he got to the other side of the water, he looked back, and the tribute was nowhere to be seen, probably having decided that the risk of the wild waters wasn't worth it. Finnick wasn't thinking about the relief of escape, all he was thinking about was how much time you had left.

It was by some sort of miracle he found Peeta, Johanna and the others on a small beach nearby, and he practically ran straight into them at full speed without even announcing himself. Once the others had realized it was Finnick, and he was not a danger to them, they calmed down, but the state of despair he was in did alarm them soon after

Peeta looked up at him, he was completely out of breath from how fast he had run.

“Sit down Finnick, try and catch your breath” He told him, while placing an assuring hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no time to sit down, I need to go back.” He spoke with such certainty it startled the others.

“Go back where?”

“ To the clearing, I don't know where it was, but I remember how to get there.”

“Why do you need to go back?” Johanna asked him, seeming confused.

“Because y/n is still there, and she doesn't have long”

The others didn't need to hear more, and started to pack up the things they had with them to follow him.

When they had made it back, Johanna was in front with Finnick, she wouldn't care to admit it out loud, but she was worried about you as well.

“Where?” She asked him

“Over by the cut-down stumps, next to the maple and the oak tree.” Finnick had memorized the entire area in order not to lose track of you, and with Johanna being from the lumber district, he knew this clue would be the most helpful to her.

“There’s no one here” she said, looking back at him frustrated.

“There has to be, she was right there when I left.”

“She might have been, but unless hypothermia comes with the power to turn invisible, she’s gone.”

“Well, she couldn't have left by herself” His mind was reeling with all the possibilities, each one more horrible than the last.

“Well then who took her, there are no drag marks, it wasn't any kind of mutt.”

“I don't know, maybe-” his eyes fell to the mud next to the fallen leaves, the ground here was in permafrost, it couldn't have come from here. When the tribute started chasing him he had already put distance between where you were and where he was going. They must have gone back after he went into the water to try and see if he had any supplies, and have found you. But your body wasn't here, that was a good thing, that means you must be alive, why else would they have taken you?

“They’re at the swamp”

“How are you so sure?”

“The career, he was alone when he chased me, he has to have set up camp somewhere with the others, it can't be far from here otherwise he wouldn't have carried her.”

“Alright, but we don't even know where that is, the swamp must be massive, they could be anywhere, we can’t just run in without a plan.” Johanna tried to reason, looking over to Finnick, only to realise he was no longer there.

“Where did he go?” Peeta asks her.

“Probably to the swamp, probably without a plan.” She sighed, she was annoyed, but couldn't say she was surprised, she knew he would do anything for you, including laying down his own life.

“How do we find him, we don't even know where the swamp is, y/n and Finnick were the only ones who crossed it.”

“You don't happen to have a map, do you?” Johanna asks, sarcasm heavy as usual.

While the others were trying to figure out where exactly Finnick had run off to, he himself ran into some trouble. He knew it was his fault for going in without a plan or any backup, but he had listened to his heart, not his head. His heart convinced him he had to find you, telling him that if he didn't find you and wake you up, he’d never be able to see your eyes looking back into his. His heart was telling him to go and save you, even though his head was telling him it was probably already too late anyway.

He wasn't paying close attention to his surroundings as he should have been, trying with all his might to find you. They had found him when he was distracted and from that moment on they kept trying to break him. He was tied with his back against a tree, most of his body covered in blood and a little dizzy from the loss of it.

“It’s very easy to figure out what makes you tick Odair” the district one tribute spoke to him. He couldn't see very far ahead of him, and he couldn't see you anywhere.

“What’s that supposed to mean” He was confused and angry. Confused about what they meant, why they hadn't killed him. Angry they kept him from finding you, from holding you.

“Don’t worry, you'll find out soon enough.”

And as if it was planned, right after the career had spoken, a loud, soul-cracking scream echoed around him. Finnick immediately recognized it, how could he ever forget? It couldn't be real, it had to be a trick, jabber-jays, something. But there wasn't a flock of birds around, and nothing would be able to replicate such a crushing sound. He tried closing his eyes, but when he did his imagination ran wild with images and scenarios, and it only made it worse. The only thing he could do to calm down was tell himself it wasn't real, even if he didn't believe it, repeating it like a mantra over and over.

“It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real.” It was nothing more than a whisper and most probably only a mumble of incoherent words.

“Oh but that's the best part Odair, it is real, and it's not gonna stop until you give us what we want. to know.”

“You’re lying” He spit out, barely able to say the next words without falling apart completely “I saw her die.” A single tear makes its way down his face as he tries to keep his composure, cracking now wouldn't do him or you any good.

“Are you willing to take that risk? She’s pretty feisty, I'll give you that, but if you don't crack soon and tell us where your friends are, she's not gonna make it.

He tried ignoring it, trying to listen to his head instead of his heart, but once again the attempt was futile. All he could hear was the screaming, even when he was sure it had actually stopped, the sound still lived in his head. It was hard to say which was worse, the deafening screams, or the silences in between.

He tried to think with his head, tried to think what you would say to him. It would probably be something along the lines of ‘don’t do anything stupid when I'm not there.’

It was far too late for that.

When the career returned, he had a smile on his face that seemed way too happy for the situation they were in.

“She’s strong, that girl of yours, that much is true. The question is for how much longer, everyone has a point of no return, and I have a feeling she’ll cross it soon, But you can make it stop, tell us where your friends are, and it’ll stop.” The tribute had bent down so he was face to face with him, and by the look in his eyes, he now knew for sure this wasn't a bluff.

Finnick didn't know where they were, they wouldn't have stayed at the beach where he found them or at the clearing where the two of you had slept for the night. And maybe it was for the best he didn't know, because right now if he was honest with himself, he would have told them anything he knew if they wanted it. He would do anything to get to hold you again, to feel the warmth of your body against his, to feel your lips pressed against his own. But the careers weren't stupid, he had no reason to believe they would actually let you go, and even if they did, he knew a part of you would never forgive him for what he would have done.

“This is a waste of time.” He screamed, silently hoping you were close enough and conscious enough to hear his voice, hoping it would be enough to tell you not to give up. He pulled at the ropes tying his hands together with all the strength he had left, knowing it would likely not achieve anything, but hoping for it nonetheless.

But it didn't make a difference, your screams didn't stop, and his heartache didn't stop. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, up until a point where Finnick couldn't tell how much time had passed. It was difficult to keep track of time when you kept blacking out, but it was peaceful in the most morbid way. He didn't sleep, he lost consciousness, so he didn't dream. When he blacked out he had a moment of peace, a moment where he didn't hear your screams echoing around in his head. But he would always wake up and have to face reality again.

He couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore, he couldn't hear his breathing or his thoughts, all he could hear was the screaming and the cries, even though he wasn't sure if they were there or if his mind kept playing tricks on him. He had always feared this, but he didn't think that his worst nightmares would actually come true.

He looked down and saw a puddle of his blood staining the ground and the leaves he was sitting on. The last thing he heard before he blacked out again was shouting coming from the distance.

When he wakes up he can't see much, his eyes heavy and his body tired. But he can feel his cheeks getting wet, it’s a heavy liquid and he guesses it's his blood until he opens his eyes far enough to see you kneeling in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks to lift his face while you're silently crying, the tears creating a clear path down the grime on your face.

“y/n?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, but you look up into his eyes immediately.

“Finnick, oh god, please wake up we have to get out of here.” Your voice sounds strained, and Finnick isn't sure if it's because of all the screams that must have taken a toll on you, or if the sounds have damaged his ears, he hopes for your sake it's the latter.

“No we don’t” He says with a sense of peace that doesn't match up with the predicament you're in.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, while trying to remove some of the blood stains from his skin, but failing miserably.

“We’re in heaven, aren't we, that's why you're here, I was hoping I would see you.” A sob from your throat almost interrupts his whispering, and he looks up to you again.

“Why are you covered in so much blood” He reaches out to touch your face ever so gently, as if he's scared you're only a figment of his imagination, and you could disappear anytime.

“It’s nothing, I’m alright, I’m more worried about you, you look like you could open your very own blood bank with how much you’re losing.” Your voice is shaky, and it matches the tremble of your hands.

“No need to worry about that, You're here to bring me to heaven, we’ll be together again, it’ll all be perfect.”

“Finnick listen to me! I’m not here to take you to heaven, I’m real and I'm right here in front of you and I need you to stay awake!”

Only he’s not responding to you anymore, his eyes closed again.

“Goddamnit”

You tried to lift him off the ground, but almost fell over once you got him upright. You weren't in your strongest state, and Finnick not being in any conscious state wasn't helping, his whole body weight leaning on you. You put your arm around his shoulder and put the other around his middle, trying to keep him standing so you could move. But with your hands busy trying to keep Finnick upright, you had no way to defend yourself. All the commotion must have alerted other tributes, but you didn't know how many there were to begin with, or who even started the disturbance that allowed you to break free. You thanked whoever was listening that the two of you made it out of the swamp without running into further trouble, and entered an opening of trees that finally allowed bright sunlight to touch upon your skin. You can hear footsteps close by, and prepare for the worst.

“We need to get the two of you back to the others” A familiar voice enters your ears, and you didn't know you could ever be so grateful to find Beetee.

You make your way to a lake not far away. When you get there, you refuse to leave Finnick’s side when Beetee had insisted you needed tending to as well. It was like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of you was hurt, the other didn't leave their side until you were sure they were going to be okay. But you weren't sure, and you weren't leaving him. So you lay down next to him, and the others knew it was useless to try and separate you.

After some time had passed, Finnick started to softly grunt and woke you up with him. Your face contorted in a mix of anger and pain. You leapt up into his arms. It hurt him a little with how tight you were holding him, but he didn't dare let go. Still a little afraid it wasn't real. But he could feel your breathing against his neck, hear you crying in his ear, and hear your heart beating in your chest, in sync with his, you were here, and you were okay.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 16.5 - Confessions and Cars 2

I thought I'd post this as a "I'm sorry" chapter lol and I felt like you readers needed some closure.

While writing this, I also realized that I do not know how to write a kiss (due to my non-existent love life)...so if someone has suggestions - I'd gladly take them :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

If Arthur thought that visiting you last November before you signed a Red Bull contract would somehow end up with you in his arms, he wouldn’t change anything. Back then, you had been his best friend. And, well, you were still his best friend, but he was hoping that soon (like tonight) you’d be more. 

The end credits of Cars 2 played on the tv in the dark room. Most of the drivers (including but not limited to Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Daniel, Pierre, Charles, and Max) – maybe all of the drivers, who had come to visit you after your release from the hospital, had all left by now. A completed Lego Porsche 9-11 sat on the little counter by the basic coffee machine. 

Now, it was just you, whose eyes were slowly drooping, and Arthur, who hadn’t been able to take his arms off of you since you got to the hospital in the first place.

Arthur, who had held you hand as the doctor put an IV in, because he knew your fear of needles. 

Arthur, who had extra hair ties on his wrist, because he knew you hated to have your hair on your neck right after races, no matter what. 

Arthur, who had called ahead to the front desk to specifically ask for a copy of Cars 2 be delivered to the room.

Arthur, who ubered your exact McDonalds order because you mentioned the craving once while you were still under some strong pain medication. 

Arthur, who was your best friend, but you honestly wanted to be some more. 

Your brain had been running a million miles since your car flipped into the barriers. 

“Are you ready to go to bed yet?” 

But his voice, was able to stop all thoughts. 

You only let out a sigh in response. Arthur didn’t want to rush you, so he just picked the remote up and started your comfort movie over again. 

Yet, you didn’t want to watch the entire thing over again. 

“I was scared.” 

Arthur immediately paused the movie, but kept his eyes in front. 

“I watched the sky cross the opening. And then it just, hurt.” 

His arms tightened around you. Yet, it wasn’t painful. 

“I blacked out for a while. And then when I woke up, all I heard,” you turned to look at the boy in your arms, “was you, calling for me.” 

Tears started forming in both yours and Arthur’s eyes. You shuffled a bit closer to him, getting even closer. 

Arthur took a deep breath. 

Hours before, he was ready to confess it all once you had gotten your first place trophy. He had it all planned out. But then, his world stopped the moment your back tyre clipped the first kerb and then you rolled. 

“Y/n,” he started. This time, his eyes met yours. The TV forgotten in the background. In this moment, Arthur was glad that everyone else had left. 

You waited with baited breath, urging him silently to continue. 

“Well, I had this big plan, for after your race. And now, sitting here, I just know one thing and one thing only.” 

You cocked your head in confusion. Yet, your heart was wanting him to speak the once sentence you’ve wanted to hear for forever. 

“I love you. And when you didn’t respond,” he took your hands in his, “I wanted to die. And I know that might sound extreme, but at that moment, I knew I didn’t want a life without you in it. I also know that we’ve only known each other for a little more than a year but…” 

You decided to interrupt him. “You’ve been my best friend for the majority of that year.” 

He nodded with you, heart a bit dejected since you hadn’t confessed right after. 

“I’ve never had a best friend, before you. And, I also couldn’t imagine a life without you. And Thur…” 

He didn’t let you finish. 

His lips met yours in a fervent kiss. You had to take a second to reel in your thoughts, but you kissed back. Because in this moment, you didn’t want anything to change. A large exhale left your nose. 

You were hungry for a race win. 

Arthur was hungry for your love. 

His hands moved from holding yours to gripping your sides. And well, in true Arthur fashion, he gripped a bit too hard as a hiss left your lips. 

His wide eyes looked right at your with concern. “I am so sorry.” 

And before he could start to ramble in broken French, you pecked his lips. Well, that shut him up. 

“It’s ok,” you whispered, trying to convince him. “And I love you too. Maybe a bit too much.” 

Arthur sighed in relief and pressed his forehead against yours. “You do not know how happy that makes me to hear.” His words were a bit jumbled and his accent was heavy, but you got the gist. 

“What now?” 

Maybe it was your fears and doubts, but if this changed things, you’d rather not continue. Because you’d rather be best friends than lose him. 

Arthur shut his eyes, smiles, and cocked his head. “I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend.” He gave you another sweet kiss, one that you reciprocated with a smile. 

“Well then,” another kiss, “ask me.” A smirk replaced the smile. 

Arthur leaned back and took your hands back into his and sat up straight. “Y/n?” 

You let out a giggle. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” 

You quickly pressed up against his face. Not in a kiss sense way. More like, you missed and just smashed your face against him. He tried to keep you upwards, but you pushed him down and fell on top of him. Another hiss left your lips, but a laugh covered it. You gently rested your head on his chest as your attention was back to the movie. 

“Yes. I will be your girlfriend Mr. Leclerc.”

Arthur just let you snuggle back into him as he played the movie for a second time. Just as Mater was about to be reunited with Lightning McQueen, a thought suddenly crossed your mind. 

“What are we going to tell Max?”   

April 9, 2024

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 through it all, nobody gets me like you do

liked by y/n.nation, f1_fanatic, olliebearman, and 59,294 others

b0x_b0x UM GOOD MORNING? NOT EVEN A HELLO?

maxiel_lover babe, wake up, y/n just did a soft launch

y/n_nation Arthur isn't in the likes...

y/nxarthur I fear this is the end of the friendship?? y/n-on_top why would it be the end... y/nxarthur who knows, Arthur always likes her stuff and comments. maybe he doesn't like the boyfriend

oscarpiastri rue, when was this?

mcLaren_fan even Oscar doesn't know? logansargeant get in line of who doesn't know

olliebearman mother?? pick up your phone please

maxverstappen1 what the kid said, pick the phone up

box_box_official and the plot thickens

change_ur_f-car y/n not picking up her phone and Arthur isn't in the likes, what is this silly season?????

Big Racer

It's Arthur Isn't it??

Little Racer

who snitched

Big Racer

Kid, he looks at you like you hung the sun It doesn't take much sleuthing to find out

Little Racer

Please don't tell It's so new And I don't want to risk it

Big Racer

My lips are sealed But I do have one question Do I need to give you the talk?

Little Racer

MAX!?

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[jasminsstories]

[01:22 am]

pov: you want to wait until zayne comes home, but he works overtime again. when he comes home he finds you asleep already.

fluff. just pure soft fluff. use of pet names (angel, love). zayne x reader

your tired eyes wandered to the top left of your smartphone screen where the numbers of the current time was displayed. “seems like zayne is working overtime again huh”, you muttered to yourself and a yawn left your mouth. your fingers opened the message from him earlier that day where he wrote how we wanted to come right to your place after he is done working. those were the last words he left you. it seemed like the cardiologist got too busy right after. you didn’t even realize how your heavy eyes closed on their own while you read the message again and your phone display darkened right afterwards.

you didn’t know what exactly woke you but you noticed a shifting on the bed and a rustling of the bed sheets. “mhmn..?”, you turned on your back and managed to crack your eyes slightly open. however due to the darkness of the room you couldn’t see or make out anything. “go to sleep again, angel”, you heard a familiar low voice whisper and the warmth of a hand caress your cheek, “sorry, i didn’t want to wake you up.” your drowsy eyes closed again in relaxation, because you were now certain who the person next to you was. so you just leaned your head into his hand and rubbed your cheek slightly against it with a soft sigh, “zayne.. you late.” your sleepy brain was not quite able to form a coherent sentence, but the chuckle from your lover revealed that he couldn’t care less and probably even found it adorable. “i got a sudden emergency operation and it took longer than expected”, the raven haired doctor answered and that’s when he made out your phone right next to you, laying there discarded. carefully he picked it up to put it to safety on your bedside table. you could feel the warmth of his body loom over you while he did this. “…you waited for me?” “mhmm.. yeah” “i didn’t want to make you wait, i’m sorry” you could already imagine his furrowed eyebrows and the apologetic gleam in his orbs behind your closed eyes, so you just shook your head and reached your arms upwards in hopes to find his body. you were lucky and without hesitation you enclosed his broad form to pull him towards you. he let out a surprised sound and instinctively quickly propped his hands against the mattress to prevent his weight completely fall onto you. “doesn’t matter- you are here now”, you mumbled and nuzzled your nose into his hair. a fond smile spread across zayne’s lips and he felt how his exhausted body absorbed the warmth and comfort you provided him even when you were half asleep. slowly he shifted his weight to lay down beside you, snaking his arms around your body to completely engulf you in a hug. you felt his familiar smell and warmth wrap around you and you immediately nestled your head against his chest. the rhythmical, strong beats of his heart, pulled you to sleep again. “i will always come back to you”, he said quietly, not sure if you were still able to hear his words. “good night, my love” zayne pressed a loving kiss on the crown of your head, before he closed his eyes and the world of dreams called him.

✨ note: this got way longer than i thought and intended to, but i’m so down bad for this man. had to get my brain rots out somehow. it’s been really long since i wrote something like this and english is not my first language so excuse me if there are mistakes or it’s a bit wonky on some ends. thinking about writing more zayne stuff in the future, but i’m not sure if there are people who would want to read these ><