#I like to think in this case she would be tucked against their chest

[multigendermultishipper]

So I keep seeing this trend online:

And it inspired me to create this headcannon:

America: multigender (nonbinary/genderfluid/pangender) oldest sibling that’s more of the mom

Sierra Leone: transfem little sister

Cayman Islands: transmasc middle brother

France and Britain: transphobic/enbyphobic parents

[girlygguk]

NOT JUST ON CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK

he's the first boy you've ever brought home for christmas. jungkook's nervous. you're horny.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 4 of 6

pairing nerdy!jk x gf!reader

genre established relo, college au, fluff, smut (18+ mdni)

content jk 21 | yn 21, spirited extro gf x soft angel bf, jk comes home w oc for the holidays, he’s so soft and shy, until he isn’t oop, i triedd w the context but this rlly is just oc getting the xmas dicking she deserves, kissing, cursing, switchy soft dom jk, giddy subby oc, they try to keep quiet, keyword try, dirty talk, cunnilingus, jk's a munch, condomless p in v sex, oc on pill, creampie, they're literal angels & i would die for them

word count 4.8k

banner by the gorgeously gifted @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

“My mom loves you.”

“You think?” Jungkook’s lips tilt into a soft smile, his hand warm and steady as it glides over your thigh, draped comfortably across his waist. “She’s amazing. I see her in you a lot.”

Your nose scrunches as you smile softly into the curve of his arm, your fingers absently tracing along his chest. When your nails graze over his nipple, you feel it perk up under your touch, and you can’t resist pressing a light kiss to the skin beneath your lips.

“You’re so easy to love, baby,” you murmur, your voice muffled slightly against his arm. But you know he hears you from the way his chest rises and falls a little faster, betraying the quiet effect you always have on him. “Had me whipped from the first time I saw you.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows cutely, the same expression he always makes when you say this. He never quite believes it, even now. You can tell he’s picturing that day—how you noticed him tucked into the back of the freshman seminar, seated in a corner with his laptop angled slightly, like a shield in case someone dared to take the empty seat beside him.

That someone had been you.

Coming to Seoul for university had been a big deal—not just for you, but for your family and everyone back home in Namhae-gun who’d cheered you on. You weren’t naturally gifted in academics the way your boyfriend was, but you worked hard, just like he did. You’d taken every extra shift you could at your local little grocer, worked the after-school care program at Sannie’s elementary school, and with some help from your mom and stepdad, you pieced together what your scholarship didn’t cover.

With that, you packed your clothes and favorite trinkets from your childhood bedroom, said goodbye to your family and the friends you’d known your whole life, and set off for the big, bright Seoul city.

It was bittersweet. Namhae-gun had been your whole world, but Seoul was your dream. And now, as you looked at Jungkook beside you, his pretty face soft in the dim light of your room, you realized he was now your new both. Your world and your dream. Your present and your future.

You still talked to your best friends, Lila and Jimin, nearly every night over FaceTime, Jungkook joining most times. He’d been so adorably shy the first time they demanded to meet him, visibly nervous they wouldn’t like him. It still baffled you sometimes, how he could think that way. How he didn’t see himself the way you did.

Because, in your eyes, he was everything. The cutest, dorkiest, sexiest nerd you’d ever met—you’d kill for him. You knew Lila and Jimin would fall for him too. And they did.

Your extroverted best friends even begged him for his socials, which he shyly handed over, his cheeks pink as he spoke out his handles. He almost choked on his own saliva when Lila let out the loudest moan mid-call, suddenly thrusting her iPad at the screen to show his latest post. It was a photo of the two of you at the beach—you, in a little multicolored bikini holding the camera out, and Jungkook with his big, wet chest on full, bare display beside you.

You couldn’t help but giggle in agreement at her thirsting over your handsome boyfriend, cupping the side of his burning face as he ducked his head into your neck. His linked arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you nestled in his lap.

“Angel?” he murmured quietly into your neck. “Why would she say t-that?”

The disappointment—and maybe even slight annoyance—in his pouty tone made you want to slam your laptop shut and take him as far down your throat as you could. Instead, you’d cooed softly, turning your head to kiss his warm cheek and whispering in his ear that she was, in fact, a raging lesbian.

“Oh,” he whispered back, tickling your skin. “Okay.” His pout relaxed, and you felt the softest, relieved little smile on his lips against your neck.

You had bitten back a moan of your own at how much that turned you on, turning to pepper his round cheek with a hundred kisses until his blush faded and the corners of his lips tugged into a cute little bunny grin. You smiled fondly at the memory of Jimin groaning dramatically while Lila yelled at you to go lower.

“Your stepdad asked me to join him for golf tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s soft, nervous voice pulls you from your thoughts. You hum in surprise and beam up at him, fingers brushing lightly along his tummy. “Really? Oh, baby, that’s so great. Are you going to go?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, swallowing hard. His throat bobs as he glances down at you, your cheek now pressed against his chest. His hand lingers at your waist, fingers curling gently into your soft skin. “Would you… would you like to come?”

You coo softly, nodding as your lips brush the curve of his collarbone. “If you want me to, honey,” you murmur, your mouth pressing a little kiss to his pebbled nipple. His chest stutters with a throaty breath, and you grin against his skin. “I’d love to.”

“Always want you to come with me, baby,” he breathes, his voice unsteady as you tilt your head, lips wrapping softly around the bud. Your gaze drifts up lazily to his beautiful face, his eyes already half-lidded. “E-everywhere I go. Wish I could take you.”

“Mmm.” The hum vibrates against his chest as your hand slides up to scratch lightly over his other nipple, your teeth grazing over the one caught between your lips. His hips shift beneath you, his breath catching as his pants pick up. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, my love."

Jungkook tries to stifle the whine rising in his throat, but it slips out anyway, soft and desperate, when your teeth scrape just a little harder over his nipple. His fingers flex at your waist, gripping you tighter.

“Ahh,” he heaves under his breath, his head lolling softly into the pillow. “Baby, we-we can’t.”

You hum, brow arching slightly in amused defiance. “And why is that, honey?” Your lips brush over both of his nipples, one flushed red and swollen from your mouth, the other stiff and sensitive from your nails.

“B-because,” he stammers, his eyes fluttering open just in time to catch you tossing the blanket off your waists and shifting to straddle his lap. His breath hitches as your thighs settle around him, your body hovering prettily above his. He swallows hard, his focus slipping as he tries to gather himself. “Your parents, angel. What if they—”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, your palms flattening against his chest as you lean in to steal his breath. His exhale trembles through his nose, and he lets out a desperate mewl when he tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing your lips. You pull back just enough to keep him chasing you.

“Their room’s on the other side of the house, my darling,” you murmur against his lips, your voice low and sweet. “So is Sannie’s. Nobody’s gonna hear your cute little noises.”

Jungkook flushes a deep pink at that, his pout immediate and utterly adorable. You dissolve into giggles, your nose brushing his as he huffs. He doesn’t correct you, though. He knows better and so do you. You’re always the one who can’t stay quiet during sex, no matter how much he whispers please, baby, they’re gonna hear us against your skin.

The thought makes your heart race. Sometimes you still can’t believe he was a virgin before you. Not with the way he fucks. Sweet and shy as he is, Jeon Jungkook turns into something else entirely when he’s inside you.

Your first time together had been soft and clumsy and perfect. Tucked into the covers of his dorm bed while his roommate Taehyung spent the night at his girlfriend’s place. He’d asked if you were okay a hundred times, his hands shaking against your skin as he moved so carefully, so sweetly. You’d never felt more loved.

But the second time?

Once he stopped asking if you were alright every thirty seconds, once he started trusting you when you told him you fucking loved it and to keep going, he went.

Oh, how he fucking went.

That second night, your own roommate had come back early—earlier than she said she would—and screamed the moment she opened the door. She’d walked in to find your shy, soft-spoken, nerdy boyfriend fucking you raw from behind on your bed, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusted you back and forth on his cock, your makeup-smeared face buried in the pillow, your throat raw from begging.

“We’ll be quiet,” you lie softly against his mouth, your lips brushing his as you lean back down, rolling your hips over his stiffening cock. The thin fabric of your Christmas pajama shorts drags over his matching pants, the friction making him shudder beneath you. “Haven’t fucked me since yesterday morning, baby,” you pout, leaning up with a little huff, bouncing brattily in his lap. “You hate me.”

“D-don’t ever say that again, baby,” he husks, his voice so fucking low as you begin to grind your slickening core against him. “Love you more than life itself.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, your tone turning smug, satisfied. You drag yourself along the length of him again, slow and pointed, humming at the way he twitches beneath you. Leaning down, you hover just over his parted lips, so close your breaths mingle. “You love me that much, baby?”

He’s fighting it—you can see it. The way his jaw tightens, his brows knitting. His throat works around a sound he’s determined to swallow. His resolve is wavering. His control crumbling—or crumbled, he doesn't fucking know—as you roll your hips again, the wet heat of you seeping through the fabric between you.

“That mu-much, baby,” he chokes out, his voice strained. His long fingers dig gently into the soft flesh of your waist, guiding you as you move against him, his grip both a plea and a surrender all at once.

Your lips curl into a triumphant smile against his as you grind yourself back and forth with just a bit more pressure. You feel the way his breath hitches, the way his resistance falters. He knows he’s already lost.

And you know it too when his big hands slide under the hem of your little green singlet, patterned with tiny reindeers and snowflakes, gripping your hips firmly before flipping you both over.

Your big eyes blink up at him, maybe a little too giddy, as he hovers above you. He shakes his head softly, his bunny nose twitching, and then leans down to take the kind of kiss he’s been craving all day.

The kind of kiss he’s wanted since dinner, when your parents were fawning over him between bites of food, praising him for everything from his sweet nature to his thoughtful gift for San.

The one he hasn’t had a chance to steal since he was sitting nervously beside you on the living room couch, watching your baby brother open the limited-edition Iron Man figure Jungkook had picked out just for him. Sannie had sprinted up to your boyfriend, his tiny arms wrapping around him, hugging him so tight and calling him the best hyungie he’s ever had.

And, yeah, okay, maybe he cried a little.

It’s the first time all day he’s had you to himself, the first time since yesterday afternoon. The afternoon he’d spent with you in the communal kitchen at your college, baking the Christmas tree-shaped cookies you’d brought home for your family in a big container.

The same cookies he had snuck an extra one to Sannie, even when you told your little brother no more after two. He couldn't help it, folding instantly when the adorable kid tugged on his sleeve with those big, pleading eyes—the ones that reminded him a little too much of you.

Jungkook thought you hadn’t noticed, but of course you did. You’d stood quietly in the doorway, watching as your gentle giant boyfriend snuck two cookies from the container and handed one to San, his lips twitching with a soft laugh when your brother shoved the whole thing into his mouth like Jungkook might change his mind and take it back.

The feeling of your lips wrapping around his tongue pulls him back to the present, and he lets out a breathy groan into your mouth. You swallow it greedily, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you tug his warm, solid weight down into you, relishing in having him pressed so heavily against you.

“Needa be quiet, baby,” he says, his voice low and breathy, maybe even a little whiny as he pulls away reluctantly. “C-can’t have your dad hearing us. I won’t be able to play golf with him tomorrow if I can’t look him in the eye.”

You hum as your lips chase his, dazed and unbothered. “You hate golf,” you murmur absently, your hands sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck, your thumbs brushing soft, hot skin. Then your tongue slips past his lips again.

He lets out something between a grunt and a laugh, his resistance melting away as his big tongue laps against yours. You taste the faint trace of toothpaste as you kiss him deeper, chasing every last hint of it, your body tingling as you take his tongue further into your mouth.

It’s no surprise that he’s already fully hard, just like it’s no surprise that you’re already fucking drenched. His stiff cock presses down against your stomach, and your hips buck instinctively at the feeling, a mewly moan spilling from your lips without care.

His hand slides up from your waist to wrap gently around your throat, and your brows furrow in pleased anticipation through closed eyes, silently hoping he’ll squeeze harder. He does, in a way, his fingers pressing softly against the sides of your neck, enough to make your head spin. The kiss slows as he pulls back slightly, leaving you pouty and blinking up at him.

His cheeks are flushed, his soft lips slightly swollen, his big, gorgeous nose marked faintly on the bridge from where his glasses had rested earlier. He looks down at you before speaking, his voice reluctant, heavy with the words he feels he has to say.

“Quiet, please, angel.”

You lick your lips, trying to chase more of his taste. “Okay, cutie,” you say with a sweet smile, nodding softly as you gaze up at him. “I’ll be quiet.”

His tongue darts out to lick over his lips, as if he’s doing the same as you, before he smiles knowingly. “Liar.”

He’s back on your mouth, his fingers still brushing softly over your throat as his lips capture yours again. This time, he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking in a way that’s both soft and firm, pulling wet, breathy pants from you chest. Your ankles tighten around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. There’s not even any fucking space between you, but you're not a quitter, grinding pathetically up into him, hips searching for the angle you need.

And then you find it.

“mmmM,” you whine as his hard, covered cock presses perfectly through your pussy lips.

Jungkook groans low into your mouth at the feeling, his lips and tongue moving with messily with yours. He’s devouring you, the wet, sticky sounds of your kissing filling the room as you grind yourself shamelessly against him. The friction is heavy, perfect as his cock is stiff and hot beneath the thin barrier of his pajama pants. Your hips move instinctively, searching for more, harder, faster, anything to ease the ache between your legs.

His hand tightens around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep your head swimming. His lips break from yours with a slick little pop, leaving your lips humming and eyes hazy as they meet his flushed face. His eyes are wide and wet as his grip on your neck loosens, trailing down to your waist.

“Needa taste it, baby,” he rasps, his voice wrecked as he slips lower, dragging his big frame down the bed. “Please baby? Need to taste you.”

The words make your head spin, and you breathing out a pleading god yes baby as his hands grip the waistband of your shorts, tugging them and your panties down in one motion. The cool air against your slick heat makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his big tongue licking a fat stripe right up your drippy folds.

“Baby—fuckk,” you breathe, your thighs trembling as his mouth works into you. He’s messy with it, always is, his tongue dipping inside your hole, then dragging back up to swivel around your clit. His big nose presses against you as he eats, throat humming and brows furrowing like they always do when he tastes a really good dish.

He pulls back just enough to breathe out, “S-so yummy, baby. I love it. Love it so fucking much.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking it between his lips and humming dirtily, making your hips jerk up into his face.

“Hahhh,” you whimper, your voice high and dumb as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging hard when his tongue flicks even faster. “Shit, Jung- baby, uuh—”

Jungkook moans into your pussy, the sound high-pitched and needy, vibrating against your soppy heat. His jaw drops as he pushes in deeper, taking your whole pussy into his big mouth, completely forgetting the need for either of you to shut the fuck up. You’re dripping everywhere, your slick coating his lips and chin, and he laps it all up like an eager dog, his hands gripping your plushy thighs to keep you spread wide.

He lifts his head just long enough to suck in a breath before gathering a thick pool of spit in his mouth. He leans back down, face burying between your legs, and lets the saliva drool onto your folds before dragging his tongue through the mess, licking and lapping it all back up greedily.

Your body writhes under him, your head sinking back into the pillow as one hand fists tighter in his hair and the other grips the sheets desperately. Your mind reels, fragments of random thoughts flashing through it—the curve of the statue of liberty, the lucky quarter you found on your walk with him in the city, the moment you first kissed. Everything and nothing blurs together and you realize with a hum that your life is flashing right before your fucking eyes.

You’re trembling, vibrating against the bed, choking on the little noises slipping from your lips. Another uh. And another. And another.

“God, baby. That’s— uh, fuck. So fucking good. Eat your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook whimpers into you, his voice muffled by your cunt as his head follows the desperate rut of your hips. You buck against his mouth, but his hands hold you down, his tongue relentless. “My pussy,” he breathes against your folds, the words so adorably possessive. “It’s my pussy, baby.”

“That's r-right,” you gasp, your head lifting weakly to meet the sight of him—his face filthy, drenched, his mouth and nose buried in your heat as he tongue fucks your cunt like it's his last day on earth. “Your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook groans against you, wet and desperate, his hips shifting against the mattress as he thrusts into nothing, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He knows he’s close—so close that it’s embarrassing. He can feel himself leaking through the fabric, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s cumming right there in his pajama pants.

And you know it too. So you beg.

"Please, baby. Wanna cum with you, Kookie... Please."

His face morphs into a little pout as he slows, pulling away from his meal reluctantly, tongue flicking one last time at your puffy folds before his hands leave your thighs. He’s panting as he climbs back up your body, unable to deny you anything in the world, lips and chin glistening with your slick.

You smile at his wet face, your hands slipping up into his messy curls as you tug him down for a kiss. The taste of yourself on his tongue is heady, dizzying, and you let out a little moan as you suck every last bit of it from his mouth. Jungkook groans into it, the sound so low that it almost resembles a cute little growl.

When you pull back, giving his swollen, red pout one last kiss, your gaze flickers down to his hand rubbing over his painfully hard cock. You bite your lip, your eyes trailing back up to meet his as you blink, waiting patiently.

He licks his lips, leaning down for one more quick kiss as his fingers fumble at his waistband. There’s a soft shuffle, and then his cock is free, flushed and heavy in his hand as he slides it against your slick folds. Your breath catches as he lines himself up, his hooded gaze locked on yours, brows furrowed in concentration.

He doesn’t need to look. His cock presses into you with an ease that has you keening, the thick head stretching you open as he pushes in. You feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper, feeding you more and more until your nails dig into his shoulders. The burn makes your jaw fall open, your head tipping back against the pillow.

“Ah,” he groans, his voice breaking as he bottoms out. “It’s so warm, baby—”

You’re already trembling, your walls fluttering around him as he starts to move, pulling out all the way before sinking right back in. “So big, Jungkookie,” you whimper, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “F-fuck, I love your dick so much.”

“Yeah?”

There it fucking is.

“You love it, baby? Love this fucking cock, baby?” he rasps, his hips snapping harder now, the loud, wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room.

“It’s yours.” Slap. “Your fucking cock.” Slap. “Will always be your fucking cock.”

Your pussy clamps around him, eyes rolling back as choked fucks spill from your lips. You can’t answer, your voice lost to your moans, your body arching into his as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that spot inside that makes your vision blur. You barely register the slam of the headboard against the wall, too cock-drunk to care as he presses a big hand to your belly.

“Feel that?” he growls, his palm firm against your abdomen. “Feel me, baby? Fucking up inside of you right here?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase against his back. “Oh my god, yes, yes—”

His other hand slides up your body, under your singlet to find your nipple and roll it between his fingers. The sensation makes you jerk against him, your cries spilling freely now. “So loud,” he mutters, though his lips quirk like he’s fucking proud of it. “God, you just can’t help it, can you, baby?”

He knows you love it when he talks to you like this. You’ve told him so more than once. He didn’t know how he felt about it at first, but when it had you cumming harder, whining more, it wasn’t really a choice anymore. He’d do anything to make you feel like that, give you anything you wanted.

You don’t have a chance to respond—not coherently, at least. His thumb drags from your hip, slipping down to your swollen, throbbing clit. He rubs big, messy, wet circles over the sensitive nub, and your vision shakes as you feel it coming.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans when you let out that shaky little noise and that trembling clench you always do when you’re about to cum. “Cum for me. Let me feel it. Cum on your cock, baby.”

Yes. Yes.

“Yes!” you scream, your body seizing up, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cry out, your hands slipping from his hair, nails raking down his bare back as you orgasm. “Baby, uh—fuck!”

He doesn’t slow, his hips pounding into you as his own release builds. “G-gonna fill you up,” he chokes out, his thrusts erratic now. “Fuckkkk, baby, gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yes,” you whimper the only word you seem to know. “Wannit so bad, Kookie.” You slur, voice breaking as he keeps fucking into you like a fleshlight. “Wanna feel your cum fill up my fucking pussy, baby, g-g-godddd.”

He shudders above you, his hips snapping hard with one long, deep thrust as he chokes out a cuumming, baby before spilling into you, his deep moan vibrating through your bedroom.

His thumb doesn’t stop.

He’s panting hard, hips fucking in and out of your leaking hole while you milk every last drop of sticky cum from his softening cock. “Come on, angel, gimmie one more, please. Please, angel.”

He’s pleading. You’re dying. Your body is convulsing, clenching and squeezing around his cock, somehow pulling even more of his load when he thought he had no more left to fucking give.

“One more, baby. That’s it. That’s it. There we go.”

Your eyes roll back, the dirtiest moan tearing from your throat as you squeal and shake around his cock. Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. He works you through it, rocks you through it, pushing his hips flush against yours so the head of his cock bulges and pulses against your g-spot, spelling his name on your clit with his thumb while you give him one fucking more.

Your chest heaves as your body trembles beneath him, your hands clutching weakly around his sides. Jungkook’s hips still, his cock twitching inside you as he breathes heavily, his forehead pressing softly against yours. He lifts his thumb from your clit, panting, and brings it to his lips without thinking, sucking your slick from his finger.

When he pulls it free, his eyes blink open, dazed and drunk. “I-I can’t believe we did that,” he chokes out. “We were so loud.”

You giggle softly, batting his hand away from his mouth to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down until his weight sinks against you. “Babyyy,” he groans in protest, squirming slightly. “I don’t wanna squish you.”

You grumble, your legs locking around his waist again, keeping him firmly in place. His softening cock shifts slightly inside you, and you hum contentedly. “You’re fine, my love. Perfect.”

He lets out a grumpy little whine before conceeding and resting his head in the crook of your neck. His chest rises and falls heavily against yours, his body still trembling faintly.

“It really is okay, though, baby,” you say, stroking his damp hair with one hand while your other rubs little circles over his back. “My mom and Sang-cheol are very sex positive.”

Jungkook’s body stiffens in your hold. “Angel, noo.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shrugging innocently. “What? They are.”

His face burns even redder as he rubs his nose into your neck. “It’s gonna be so awkward tomorrow,” he mumbles.

You snicker, drumming his bare bum with your feet. “It’s fine, baby. I didn’t pack any golf attire by the way, so we’ll needa go to the mall in the morning. You can help me pick out a slutty little sport skirt.”

His head lifts just slightly and you swear his ears perk up like a bunny. “Okay,” he says softly, cheeks still pink. “I’d like that.”

You giggle, the sound muffled as you press a kiss to his warm cheek. “God, you’re so cute, baby.”

His lips quirk into a shy grin, his doe eyes blinking down at you. “I love you,” he whispers. “This has been the best Christmas of my life.”

Your chest tightens, and your brows furrow as you whine softly at his sweetness. “I love you too, my sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands to press another kiss to his pout. “So much.”

His smile is soft, glowing, as he nestles back into your neck. His bare chest is warm against you, the two of you sinking into a quiet, content stillness. Your fingers brush through the damp hair at the base of his neck, his breathing evening out as your heartbeats sync.

“Angel?” His voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, my love?” you hum sleepily.

“I-I’m hard again.”

merry 23rd my darlings !! i hope you’re all having the best holidays so far, and thank u so much for all the overwhelming love and support on this silly willy journey of ours 💋 i’m sure you’ve already checked out december, but if you haven’t yet, PLEASEEE do — i swear to fuck u won’t regret it. the biggest thank u again from lovie and me, we appreciate you all endlessly 🩷🩷 see you on the 25th!! mwwwah -lyssa <3

[zyafics]

GIRL UNDER THE MOONLIGHT | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — Rafe invites you out to the Druthers for a sunrise event with Sarah and his friends.

Word Count — 2.3K

Content — fluff, protective!Rafe, Sarah being a good sister (and considerate to you!), you being clingy and possessive of Rafe, and suggestive scenes. A continuum of this and this and this!

“She can’t be a mermaid,” Sarah announces unexpectedly.

Rafe stops what he’s doing to turn to his sister, “What?”

“I poured some water on her skin,” she diligently informs, leaning against the doorframe of his office, her arms crossed over her chest with this vindicated look. "Nothing happened. Therefore, she can’t be a mermaid.”

Rafe scoffs at Sarah’s hypothesis. “What did you do? Chuck it at her?”

“Who do you think I am?” She rolls her eyes. “I just dropped some water on her… accidentally. I even brought towels—just in case.”

“A scientist,” Rafe drawls sarcastically, returning to his work.

“Precisely.”

Rafe had nearly forgotten that little quirk about you. It’s been almost a month since your arrival, and while there have been some occasional odd moments, nothing has proved evident about your supposed mermaid abilities. Finally, Rafe tucked it in the back of his head as nothing more than a phrase—a figment of your imagination, your fantasy transcending into the natural world.

Nothing more.

“Why is this relevant?” Rafe asks stodgily, flipping through the account books of Cameron Development, his fingers trailing the edge of the sheets.

“Because now you can bring her to the sunrise trip,” Sarah declares.

It takes Rafe a second to remember what she’s referring to. A summertime tradition where Sarah and Rafe host their friends on the Druthers, taking it out to sea to stay a night and wake up before sunrise.

Sarah had tested whether you were truly a mermaid to make you a candidate for the journey.

Rafe scoffs, “So that’s what that little experiment is for,”

“I had to,” she smiles sweetly, “Didn’t want her to turn into a fish when we’re out at sea. It’ll ruin the fun.”

“My fun or yours?”

Sarah doesn’t answer, giving him a knowing wink, before departing from his office.

That night, Rafe asks you. He was getting ready for bed, turning off all the lights, before you patter your way into his doorway, shyly inviting yourself into his room. Rafe no longer is surprised by your arrival, and with a wave of a hand, he beckons you forward and you sink in his arms.

You’re always giddily, full of soul, and when Rafe has you in his arms, it amplifies. You detail him about your day—the time spent along the coastline of his estate, traveling barefoot along the empty roads, interacting with land critters. You’re always so fascinated by the mundane, the landscape and sights, but the way you go about it—it’s a soothing sound, full of bursting energy.

He can, and has, fallen asleep to it.

Knowing you’re in a good mood, Rafe decides to pop the question. He tells you about the trip, taking his yacht out, and watching the flaming palette of orange-blue light in the morning sky. He thinks you’ll enjoy it; after all, you’re a self-proclaimed mermaid with a fascination for all human derivatives.

But, for the first time, you say no.

“Why not?” Rafe asks as you lay on his chest, shaking your head at the invitation. Your nails are tracing the fabric of his shirt, drawing doodles in similar manners you would do at the bottom of the ocean floor.

“I don’t want to,” your voice is quiet and tiny as if you don’t like the idea of saying no to him.

“It��s just for one night,” Rafe assures. Perhaps you’ve gotten used to the stability of the Tannyhill estate.

You persist, declining the offer.

“It’ll be fun,” Rafe reasons, but there’s a bitterness in the way he’s pushing the topic. Truthfully, if you don’t attend, Rafe doesn’t have much incentive to join either. Yes, it’s been a long-standing tradition, but he wants to experience it with you. Ever since you entered into his life, he’s been feeling that way.

Yet, he knows he has to go. Sarah doesn’t know how to drive the Druthers, and she’s been looking forward to this all summer. Despite their bickering, he doesn’t want to let her down.

You shake your head quietly, slouching your shoulders inwards, making yourself small. It’s as if your body is physically recoiling at denying Rafe.

He doesn’t know what’s going on. You never do this. You’ve always been pliant, and obedient, agreeing to every little concoction he conspires. It’s one of the many things he adores about you; yet, for the first time, you’re being wayward.

“Are you afraid of the water?” Rafe asks gently, stroking the curve of your spine with his finger, in a way that makes you relax your muscles. He accidentally hooks it underneath the shirt—his shirt—drawing it up to expose your skin; soft, tender, and perfect.

Sarah had been right. Normally, you don’t like wearing clothes. Only when Rafe asks you to whenever you go out together, but preferably, you choose to remain as close to naked as possible. It’s too hot, you told him. You’ve gone years without clothes, and the actual barrier produces heat. The only exception, however, is if you get to wear his.

Again, you don’t answer. Your fingers coils around the loose fabric of his shirt, bundling it into a fist, as if you’re frightened by the suggestion. Rafe sees it—feels it—emulating from your body, and he stops for a second and relinquishes his touch.

“We’re just going to be on the boat. You don’t have to go into the water if you don’t want to,” Rafe reassures, hoping his words soothe something over you. He knows he’s been persistent, but he truly doesn’t want to leave you alone—not even for one night. “I’ll protect you.”

Normally, under that advisement, it would palliate all concerns; and would coaxe you into an affirmative yes. But you say nothing, and finally, with a tick of agitation pulsing through him, Rafe gently grabs your chin and lifts your tender gaze to his.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip; plumped, fresh, coasted with this perpetual wetness that makes Rafe burn with desire. And you nod your head, listening, but not actively responding.

His thumb traces your lower lip, pulling down the plumpness and forcing it to split apart. Your eyes meet Rafe with a tenderness, almost hunger, while your breathing slightly stills.

You still don’t answer him.

And this time, Rafe decides to let it go.

“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”

This should make you happy, for him to drop it, but the coated disappointment in his tone causes your stomach to twist. You don’t like upsetting him, don’t like the idea that you’re not meeting the standard and his needs.

“But you’ll still go?” You ask softly, gently, like an ocean breeze.

“I have to. Sarah doesn’t know how to drive,”

Your brows pinch, furrowing together. “Will there be other females there?”

“Yeah,” Rafe nods. “Some of Sarah’s girl friends.”

You purse your lips, eyes squinting. You don’t like that. You’re possessive about your mate. You understand Sarah’s his sister, and that company is natural, but with other women? Unrelated to him? It’s wrong.

You can’t stand it.

“Okay,” you murmur softly, conceding in a way that Rafe likes. “I’ll come.”

The next morning, everyone’s at the docks of the Tannyhill estate, loading onto the yacht. Sarah brought a variety of fruits and snacks, while Kelce and Topper helped her and her friends abroad. They climb up the slippery steps and enter into the cockpit, settling with their things.

You stay close to Rafe, timid among the new crowd.

Out at sea, everything is smooth sailing. Today’s a beautiful day, with steady waves, and it’s meant to last the entire week. Rafe parks the Druthers off the coast, where you can’t see Kildare anymore, save for a small coastal cove that’s within view. The boat gently bobs against the rolling tides, and the sounds of Sarah and her friends are screeching with enthusiasm as they take a swim around the yacht.

You watch from above the deck, your focus on the distance, staring at the island cove.

When Rafe slips out of the cockpit, his hand slides over your waist, snapping you out of your concentration. You lift your gaze to meet his, and the furrowed crease between your brows disappears, shoulders relaxing upon his touch.

Rafe offers you a rare, gentle smile. “You wanna swim?”

You shake your head, “Not with them.”

He likes the fact that you don’t entertain his friends, that you want him and only him. “You were waiting for me?”

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulders. “You looked busy,”

“You could’ve told me,” Rafe declares, “Better yet, you could’ve joined me.”

You huff softly, amused, as Rafe pulls you closer to his side. Again, he smells the scent of the sea—but it’s fragrance, exuding from you. His eyes drift to the direction you were looking at, “What's that?”

“Nothing,” you hum, but there’s a pang of longing. You tip your chin skyward to find his gaze once more. “Can we go inside now?”

A couple of hours later, Sarah’s right. Again. The whole crew is having dinner on the main deck, and someone accidentally spills a cup of water on your arm, but nothing happened. Rafe was ready to see something—a twinkle, a glow, or a glimmer—but it was absolute zilch. One of her friends who did it apologizes, and you chuckle softly, wiping it away with a towel, not a care in the world.

He truly doesn’t understand this mermaid business. He really doesn’t.

Maybe you’re someone who loves the sea so much, you claim it as part of your identity. You want to be closer to the ocean, to the marines, to the corals and the sea creatures that the title is merely an expression of self, rather than a true folktale.

You can’t be a mermaid, Rafe reasons, you don’t even have a tail.

Later, everyone shuffles off to their individual cabins. Rafe claimed the biggest one—because of course he did. When you step out of the small bathroom, in nothing but a large shirt of his, Rafe swallows thickly. Because most times, when you come into his room, it’s night, punctured with darkness saved for a glow of moonlight through his curtains.

Now, the cabin lights remain perpetually on, at low brightness, and it allows Rafe to see everything. He’s reminded of the tidbit from Sarah—how you hate panties—and his eyes drop to your thighs, where the shirt casually brushes mid-level, almost revealing more. His heart beats heavily, and you slowly climb onto the bed, wrapping yourself around him.

You fall asleep on his chest, as you normally do, and the weight is like a natural blanket to him. Something he knows, expects, and remembers. It tames all the raging emotions inside of him, silences all the busy thoughts, and hones in completely and only you.

During the duration of the night, while the yacht slowly rocks against the stronger currents, his hand falls on your back protectively.

Until it doesn’t.

Something doesn’t feel right; missing. His eyes slowly blink awake, drowsiness coating his features, while his eyes adjust to the low cabin lights. His hands weaved through thin air.

You’re gone.

With the door of the cabin wide open.

Consciousness strikes Rafe, and he jumps out of bed, rushing out of the cabin, and following the hallway lights to the deck. Slowly, with the rocking of the tides, Rafe climbs up the stairs, to the main deck, and finds you in the stark darkness.

Standing on the ledge.

You’re at the gap where the railing ends, allowing an opening to jump to the swim platform. You’re standing dangerously close to it, his shirt flapping against the wind, a loose hand wrapped on the safety handle.

Rafe calls your name, but you don’t turn around. He suspects you’re sleepwalking, entranced in a dream, that led you up here. Ocean calling you home, it’s evidence for his theory.

But you’re not a mermaid and you can’t survive that leap.

Cautiously, Rafe approaches you, slowly, tenderly, calling your name. He’s afraid of waking you, afraid of startling you from your dream and causing you to release and fall. With each step closer, he hears the thumping of his own heartbeat and the prize within reachable fingertips.

He’s almost there.

He’s so close.

Until you jump.

Rafe screams as he reaches the ledge, his eyes adjusting to the dark currents of the sea. Nothing is visible, not a stream of light underneath, except for the glowing reflection of the full moon bathing the dark waters.

He’s calling your name, again and again, trying to see if you’ll surface to the sound of his voice.

But nothing happens.

Rafe’s already taking off his shoes, taking off his shirt. He’s gearing up to jump in after, especially if you don’t surface within the next minute.

He’s praying. A godless man as himself, who doesn’t believe in a higher power, is begging for you to come up unscathed.

But he still sees nothing.

Until something cuts the waves, a sharp prodding sculpture that slices through the harsh currents.

A tail?

He isn’t sure if his eyes are deceiving him, especially with the drowsiness of his sleep, but he sees another cut in the ocean, this time paired with an iridescent color of a fin, scaly and glimmering.

He calls out your name once more, a little timid, a little frightened.

And you raise to the surface.

Attached to a long, kaleidoscopic tail, with skin full of scales, climbing up your shoulders and throat, you’re flipping through the water; your smile bright, eager, and real.

Rafe breathes out a sigh of disbelief.

“Holy shit,”

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[gf2bellamy]

hi lovely

i was contemplating another one too i hope this doesn’t stress you out !! (please take your time, im quite a patient person) also it’s 3am rn i woke up in the middle of the night so yay

i dont know if it would work but one where it’s a secret relationship but randomly they (reader n spencer) just say eff it and go FULL pda (you can decide whether it’s like holding hands, making out or anything in between !!) in the bullpen / on the jet and everyone else just goes CRAZY

if it doesn’t work just ignore. i’ll get better ideas soon TRUST

yours truly

- 🐚

indifferent — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of being tired from a case, a/n: HIII 🐚 sorry if this took so long i'm not even gonna lie when i tell you i rewrote this like 6 times , i gave it my best - i still hope you like this <3333

The jet hummed softly beneath you as you sank into your seat, exhaustion clinging to you. The case had drained you—physically, mentally and emotionally. You sighed, letting your body melt into the plush leather, barely holding yourself upright.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled, eyes already half-lidded as you shifted in search of a comfortable position.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut, you heard the familiar sound of movement nearby. You cracked one eye open to see Spencer standing over you, carefully stowing your go-bag into the overhead compartment.

“It’s a long flight. You should sleep,” he said softly, settling beside you.

You hummed in response, too tired to argue. You felt the warmth of him beside you before you even opened your eyes again. His hand found your thigh without hesitation, his thumb beginning to trace slow, soothing circles through the fabric of your pants.

It was muscle memory at this point, something he did without thinking—whether you were curled up on the couch at home, sitting together in a car, or now, here, on the jet.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, letting your body sink further into the soft leather. The jet was quiet, just the two of you. You glanced at Spencer, who mirrored your movement, his head resting against the seat, his warm brown eyes searching yours with a softness that made your heart flutter.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. The silence was comfortable.

With a sleepy smile, you mumbled, “Do you want to come over tonight?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up at the corners, a faint smile tugging at his tired features. Without hesitation, he nodded. That was all the confirmation you needed, and a warmth spread through your chest.

He reached up, his fingers barely brushing against your cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The soft touch sent a shiver through you, and you leaned into it, resting your head on his shoulder.

The quiet was interrupted by the sound of footsteps—the rest of the team making their way onto the jet. But Spencer didn’t move his hand from your thigh; his fingers continued to trace gentle patterns through the fabric. You turned to look at him in surprise, but he just smiled back at you, an expression so warm it made your heart skip a beat.

The others plopped into their seats in front of you, with Derek and Emily settling into the row just across from you.

“I’m so exhausted,” Emily sighed dramatically, rubbing her temples as she stared at the two of you. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, clearly surprised by your closeness, the way you were cuddled together so easily. Derek raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin tugging at his lips.

Even Hotch and Rossi, making their way toward their seats at the back, glanced up quickly, their eyes meeting briefly before they turned away. But no one said anything.

Half an hour passed, and you still hadn’t managed to fall asleep. You sighed loudly, letting your head slump slightly against Spencer’s shoulder in frustration. It felt like your body wanted to rest, but your mind just wouldn’t quiet down.

Spencer noticed the shift in your mood. He looked down at you, brow furrowing slightly.

“Can’t fall asleep?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with concern.

You mumbled a tired “No...” and sighed again.

Spencer was already processing this, his brain working overtime, as it often did. His gaze drifted away for a moment and then, just like that, he launched into his usual ramble.

“You know, water is really effective for helping people fall asleep,” he began, tilting his head slightly. “It’s the hydration, really. It helps regulate your body’s temperature and keeps your nervous system functioning properly, which is essential for sleep. The brain needs hydration to produce melatonin. Oh, and the temperature of the water matters, too! Too cold or too hot, and it’ll have the opposite effect. Ideally, you want it lukewarm.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even in your tired state. You always loved how he would share his knowledge, no matter how random the topic.

He didn’t seem to notice how you were still half-dazed, his voice continuing as he leaned in slightly.

“And if you drink it right before bed, it helps slow down the body’s metabolism, which prepares you for sleep.”

"I didn't know that." You smiled, leaning into his shoulder again, your hand finding his.

“You want some water?” Spencer asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded sleepily. “Yeah... that sounds nice.”

Emily crossed her arms, her gaze flicking toward the direction Spencer had walked off in before settling back on you with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed, tilting her head. “We’re not that oblivious.”

You blinked innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Derek, who had been staring out the window with his headphones on just moments ago, now turned his full attention to you, an amused grin spreading across his face. He pulled his headphones down around his neck and glanced between you and Emily.

“So, let me get this straight,” Derek said, leaning forward slightly. “You expect us to believe that you and Pretty Boy over there just casually cuddle up on the jet like that?” He raised an eyebrow. “And that little thigh-touching thing? That’s just friendly behavior?”

Your face warmed, but you did your best to keep your expression neutral. “We were tired,” you reasoned.

Emily snorted. “Right. And I suppose if I go back there and ask Spencer, he’ll say the exact same thing?”

Your silence was enough of an answer.

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Man, I gotta say, I’m actually impressed. I didn’t think Reid of all people could pull off a secret relationship for this long.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Before you could respond, Spencer returned, holding a bottle of water in one hand and—predictably—a cup of coffee in the other. He slid back into his seat beside you, handing you the water with a small smile.

“Here, lukewarm. It’s the best temperature for—”

“Melatonin production, hydration, metabolism... I was listening, Doctor Reid. Thank you.” You shrugged with a wink, fully aware of how much he loved to share his knowledge.

Spencer’s eyes brightened as you took the bottle from him and sipped it. He always worried people weren’t paying attention, and it seemed like you’d just passed his test.

With a soft smile, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a moment too long before he reluctantly pulled away.

He turned back to face the rest of the team, his posture stiffening slightly as his gaze met Derek’s raised eyebrow and Emily’s wide, disbelieving eyes.

You could feel Spencer tense up beside you, and you couldn’t help but grin, leaning slightly against his shoulder as you watched the reactions unfold.

Derek chuckled, his disbelief evident. “Wow... Since when are you two...?” He trailed off, clearly caught off guard.

You tilted your head slightly, an innocent smile playing at the corners of your lips. The whole team had always been close, but no one had ever suspected that you and Spencer had been quietly keeping a secret relationship. Of course, that secret wasn’t exactly a secret anymore.

You could feel the gaze of Rossi and Hotch from across the aisle, both men just as silent but sizing up the situation. You almost swore you saw Rossi’s lips twitching in amusement.

Maybe they’d already known, maybe they’d suspected it.

"Penelope is going to have a field day with this," Emily muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she gave you a pointed look.

You smiled. Penelope would certainly have plenty of fun with this.

Under the table, your hand reached for Spencer’s, fingers intertwining gently as you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

Derek let out another low chuckle, clearly amused. “You two have been sneaking around long enough. I should’ve seen this coming.”

You turned to Derek, narrowing your eyes playfully. “We didn’t exactly sneak around, Derek. We just weren’t broadcasting it to the whole world.”

Derek’s grin turned mischievous again. “Well, I’ll say this much... if you two are gonna go public, I want an invite to the wedding.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging Spencer with your shoulder. “You’re impossible, Derek.”

You let out a quiet, playful sigh, shrugging your shoulder casually as you twirled Spencer's fingers between your own.

You glanced up, meeting Hotch’s usually stoic eyes. For a brief second, you swore you saw the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And with that, the playful teasing continued, but you didn’t mind. Because, with Spencer next to you, everything felt exactly as it should.

[januaryembrs]

oblivious!reader x downbad!spencer who’s not even nervous to flirt with reader anymore cuz she just doesn’t get it (probs older episodes spence)

CLUELESS | Spencer Reid x reader

description: Spencer's got a crush, too bad you're entirely clueless to his dilemma. (S3!Spencer in mind)

length 1.2k

At first he’d thought it was the world’s gentlest form of rejection, how you would dodge his questions, barely bat an eye at him laying himself bare for you, thought that maybe you were pretending not to see the way his hands shook and voice quivered to save him some face. 

“I-I was wondering if you wanted to go see Zodiac at the movie theatre?” He stammered, obsessively tucking his hair behind his ear because it felt like it was ticking his cheeks, or perhaps that was just some residual sweat gathering on his temple because you were just so pretty when you looked at him like that, your eyes wide and excited, waiting for him to finish speaking because you always loved to listen to him, “I was thinking we could try comparing it to the actual case and figure out how accurate their hollywood version of it is,” 

Your face lit up like the fourth of July, and your smile was blinding, “Oh, I love the movies! It’s going to be so fun, Spence!” You chirped, whirling around in your desk chair to meet Emily’s bored stiff expression as she scrolled through her computer, “Em, Spencer wants us to go see Zodiac, you in?” 

Spencer paled, because that was not what he’d meant by we whatsoever. It wasn’t that he held anything against Emily, nor JJ or Penelope as they were quickly roped into the plans as well, he just hadn't had them in mind when he thought to ask you out on a date. From what he could tell you hadn’t escaped spending time with him alone on purpose. He just hadn’t quite been specific in his question, it was an easy mistake to make. 

But you looked so excited as you organised who was getting what snacks, quickly dibsing the seat slap bang in the middle of everyone so you wouldn’t feel like anyone got left out. He thought his chest stuttered when you grabbed his hand and asked if you could sit with him since he’d remember the most about the original case, and you’d need his big brain for the little game he had planned. 

Spencer agreed, instead of trying to make it clear what he’d meant by his original question, because he hated disappointing people and the other girls seemed just as thrilled to go see the movie as you were. It wasn’t until Morgan slapped him on the back with a chuckle, having watched the whole thing from his own desk that Spencer felt truly dumb. 

“You’re going to have to try better than that, pretty boy,” He exclaimed, and Spencer bit his lip in thought, “Try asking her to do something in a way that leaves no room for confusion, girls like it when you’re direct,” 

And he nodded vehemently, because dating advice from Morgan was usually sound and bulletproof, how else would would he have garnered the ladies man reputation?

Direct, he could be direct. Sure, Spencer could be direct. 

He swallowed heavily just thinking about it. 

–

��These are for you,” Spencer jumped in before you could get sidetracked by chatting his ear off about the squirrel you’d nearly ran over on your way to work, and your expression flitted into surprise. 

He handed you the big bunch of pink roses and baby’s breath, and your mouth cracked into a smile immediately. “Oh, Spencer, these are beautiful, you shouldn’t have. My birthday’s not for another week,” 

“And I booked us a table at that Thai place on your block that you always get- wait birthday?” Spencer stumbled over his script, the words he’d been practising all morning coming to an effective halt as he realised once again his intentions had flown right over your head. And yet before he could set his record straight, just like you had last time, you’d jumped at the chance of spending time with him without understand just what you were agreeing to. 

“I love Thai food, that’s so thoughtful of you, Spence,” You said, hopping up out of your chair to give him a bear hug around his lithe waist, the flowers still tightly in the palm of your hand. He reciprocated, even if his expression was a terrible mix of frustration and confusion. 

It was like someone had cast some sort of spell over his words so that he’d never be able to ask you out on a date, like he was trying to speak in a dream, the words never really coming out. You weren’t dumb, not by any means, you could be a little naive sometimes, but never cruel. Spencer had no idea what the answer was. He guessed he was right back at square one.

–

“I don’t know man, I tried asking her to the movies, she thought it was a group thing. I tried taking her out for dinner, she thought it was for her birthday, I even asked if she wanted to come over to mine and she thought I meant a sleepover. What’s romantic about pillow forts?” Spencer sighed, leaning his head into his palm as he watched you swan around the office without a single inkling of his affections, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had fun at every one of them, but I just want there to be more. Maybe she just doesn’t feel the same,” 

“Don’t lose hope, pretty boy,” Derek comforted, the seemingly appointed love Guru that had had to witness two weeks of Spencer’s advances get sidelined. He followed Reid’s gaze to where you hummed a song to yourself as you collected files from Emily’s desk to take them over to your own. He bit his lip in thought, “I don’t think it’s personal, honest, I don’t think she means anything by it. You just need to be clearer,” 

“Clearer?” Spencer said with raised brows, using a single prod of his converse to swivel himself around to face you, and your expression perked into a smile just from seeing him. Derek watched the two of you closely, his theory all but game set and match as you seemed genuinely excited to see their resident genius who was convinced there was nothing there, “That shirt is really cute on you. It makes your eyes look really pretty,” Spencer said, in his most direct tone possible, because the nervousness seemed to dissipate when he knew you wouldn’t pick up on his intentions. The only sign you’d heard him at all was the way your fingers ruffled his hair affectionately. 

“Aw, thank you, Spencer,” You said, a little bounce in your step as you passed his desk to your own, running a gentle hand over his arm, where his blue striped shirt bunched around his biceps, “I like your purple one the best, but this one’s quite handsome too,” You replied, grabbing the other wad of papers from your drawer without much of a reaction and heading up the stairs to Hotch’s office, and he turned back to Morgan, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

Morgan laughed, shaking his head and yanking his cup of coffee towards him, “She’ll figure it out some day, lover boy. I give it a month, tops,” 

And Spencer huffed, wheeling himself back to his desk, his eyes naturally trailing up to the large window that divided them from Hotch’s personal space, the two of you discussing something jovially as if you were none the wiser to his internal predicament. 

He made a note to wear his purple shirt more often.

[luveline]

hi jade!! it’s currently nearly midnight for me, but, i was wondering if we could get some comfort with spencer (or hotch, whichever one is more fitting in your opinion) and his girlfriend when she’s getting burnt out (in case you couldn’t tell this is grossly self indulgent. Oops.) love you jade!!!!!

ty for requesting, love you! fem

Aaron has conducted an investigation on you in the past few weeks. He doesn’t like his findings. 

“You’re acting like me.” 

Laid on his couch with a box of chocolates on your chest, you send him a suspicious look. Jack sneaks over to take one of your favourites in a blur of brown hair and blue pyjamas. You hardly react.

“Jack, did I get those for you?” Aaron asks.

“He can have some,” you say, glaring at him. It’s not necessarily fake anger, but it’s also not real anger either. Annoyance, perhaps, of which you’ve found yourself a victim these last few weeks.

“They’re supposed to make you feel better.”

“Jack being happy makes me feel better.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Alright, but when there’s none of the best ones left, don’t come crying to me.” 

“Come here. I’ve saved you the one with the walnut.” 

Aaron answers your demand. He lifts your legs and lays them across his thighs, and he only eats a chocolate every time you force it into his hand or against his cheek. The gifts he’s been giving you seem to work some in repairing whatever it is that’s getting you down. You have no answers for him —irritates you more, being asked, because you have no answer. 

As far as Aaron can tell, you’re still in love, work is fine, and Jack’s your best friend. He isn’t even doing it in the name of chocolate. Aaron reaches over to stroke Jack’s hair and Jack, apparently too old for fatherly affection, won’t let him do it, but you’re allowed to scratch your nails along the back of his neck. 

At nine, Aaron takes Jack upstairs for bed. Again, he’s too old for stories now, but not too old to get tucked in and kissed goodnight. He thinks of it as a dad win. Jack doesn't fuss. He says, “Night dad,” and “Love you,” and then “Love you more!” when Aaron pesters him. 

“Dad?”

Aaron pokes his head back through the door. “What, sweetheart?” he asks. 

Jack grins. “Can you tell Y/N I said goodnight, please?” 

“Of course I can. Love you three times, okay? Try to sleep now, otherwise you’ll be tired in the morning.” 

Jack rolls his eyes but puts his head down.

Aaron smiles about Jack, his growing boy. He’s worried about you, which has the smile surely fading. Aaron’s worried about you too, but he hasn’t felt like he could do much about it. You’re agitated, restless, tired but somehow not. You’re just drained of all your energy, no matter how much sleep you get. 

Aaron goes down the last of the stairs, following the sounds of you to the kitchen. You’re making two cups of something, Aaron can’t tell. But you’ve stopped at the sink, flaring your fingers, watching the skin tighten around your knuckles. 

“Having that headache again?” he asks softly. 

“I’m sorry for being grumpy all night.” 

“If we had to apologise for grumpiness, I would always be emphatically sorry.” He taps at your elbow until you fall into his chest. “Oh, honey,” he says, a little theatrical, but mostly genuinely sympathetic, “whatever this is, it’ll go away.” 

“Feel garbage and stupid.” 

“You are neither of those things.” 

“I need to get over it, though. I can’t just feel like this. It has to end eventually.” 

“I think by rushing it, you’re actually erasing any progress you’re making. You’re burned out, honey. It could happen to anyone, but it’s happening to you, so why don’t you just let me spoil you for a few days? Ooh, let’s play hooky.” 

“As if.”

“You should actually take a few days off if you feel like this.” Aaron hugs your forehead to his nose forcefully, which makes you giggle all weird. He loves it. “Let me call your doctor, you can get an appointment. Just a few days for emergency mental health care, mm?”

“You are asking me a very serious question but acting very non-serious,” you murmur. 

Aaron kisses your cheek. “Do you want me to be more serious?” he asks sincerely. “Serious hasn’t worked so far. I thought we’d fake it till we make it.” 

You curl your arm behind his neck to stop him from rubbing the scruff of his chin against you anymore, pulling away, meeting his eyes with warmth. “Thanks for saying ‘we’.” 

“You and me,” he says, rubbing you with his chin anyways.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑫𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔

Pairing: Alexia putellas x reader

Words: 2264

Warnings: alcohol

Summary: You’re drunk, and therefore very curious as to whether or not Alexia would still love you if you were a worm.

[prompt list]

"Amor? I have ordered dinner. Is there-" Alexia cuts herself off mid sentence as she pauses in the threshold of the living room, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You were standing just by the front door tucking your keys into the small purse you had hooked over your shoulder, dressed in a way that suggests it was evident you were heading out and not ready for the movie night Alexia had been planning.

"Where are you going?" She asks, lips slipping into a small frown.

You look up at the sound of her voice, your lips quirking up into a small smile as you walk over to her. "Out with Mapi, remember? I told you when you got home." You reach to take the hands she'd folded against her chest.

Alexia frowns, momentarily thinking back to when she'd gotten home a little over an hour ago before adamantly shaking her head. "No, you didn't." She insists.

"Baby, I did. I promise," you laugh softly, knowing just how scatterbrained she sometimes got after a long day of training and media duties. "Mapi and I have had this planned for a few weeks. Drinks and dinner. You were invited too but you said no." You attempt to jog her memory.

Alexia desperately wracks her mind in hopes to remember said conversation she can't remember taking place, but inevitably she comes up empty.

"You don't remember, do you?" You tease softy, letting go of one of her hands and playfully poking her nose, Alexia batting away your hand away with a quiet huff.

"No." She grumbles, her lips forming a pout that you were quick to kiss away. Her arms circle your shoulders, your own looping around her waist and squeezing softly in return.

"How long will you be?" She murmurs, the tips of her fingers trailing through the ends of your hair.

You purse your lips for a second in thought. "I'm not sure babe," you shrug. "A few hours? Maybe more?"

With Mapi in charge of drinks, it was highly likely you'll be out till at least midnight. When you say that girl could drink, you mean it with everything in you.

Alexia nods with a soft exhale. "Vale. I will save you dinner. Just in case." She murmurs, both looking and sounding a little disappointed over the fact you wouldn't be staying in with her.

Truth be told, you were too, though probably not as much.

Of course you absolutely adored Alexia, and given the chance you would spend every single night and day with her for the rest of your life. But Mapi was your best friend. Your best friend who you hadn't hung out with in months and had already rejected numerous invitations from before agreeing to this one a few weeks ago, so it would be extremely unfair to cancel on her now, and plus, you had been looking forward to it.

"You can come with us, you know." You say as you play idly with the waistband of her sweats, not wanting her to feel left out.

Alexia scrunches up her nose before shaking her head, the very answer you'd expected. She never liked to drink during the season, and when forced out with her team for celebrations, she would always stick to water. No matter how much Mapi tries and convinces her otherwise.

"No, amor. It is okay. I will stay here. Watch a game, maybe." She murmurs as she cups your cheeks, trailing her thumbs over the soft skin just briefly before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Are you sure?" You ask as she pulls away, tilting your head to the side.

Alexia smiles. "Sí. I am sure. I will see you later, vale? Be safe."

You lean up on your tiptoes and peck her lips before pulling away and making your way over to the front door. "I will. Promise. I love you." You smile.

"Te amo, bebé."

Alexia watches you go before collapsing onto the couch with a quiet sigh. She felt pathetic for missing you already, having every intention prior to spending the night with you curled up on this very couch.

It was just one night, she reminds herself. Get over it.

*

It was way past midnight when Alexia finally hears the front door open and close, the muffled voices of you and Mapi filling her ears as she pulls out her headphones and sets both them and her phone onto her nightstand.

"Amor?" Alexia calls as she slides out of bed, crossing her bare arms against her chest as she makes her way out of the room. She finds you both still in the entryway of your shared apartment, talking loudly between yourselves as you lean on one another to futilely attempt to kick off your shoes. Neither one of you were particularly successful.

"Amor?" She tries again.

Your head whips round at the sound of her voice, eyes lighting up as you stumble over to her and all but throw your arms around her shoulders. Alexia catches you with no more than a soft grunt as your chest collides none too gently with her own, her arms instinctively looping around your waist.

"Hi baby, I missed you!" You slur, lips upturned into a crooked grin as you stare up at her. Alexia can't help but smile back as she loosely tucks a damp strand of hair out of your face.

"I missed you too bebé. Did you have fun?" She questions, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from you. Her eyes seem to instinctively flicker over to Mapi as you ramble animatedly about your night, the Spaniard still struggling to kick off her shoes as she stumbles and lets out quiet curses beneath her breath.

"-so much fun!" You finish off your drunk ramble as your head flops dramatically against her chest, Alexia humming response as she leans forward and brushes her lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss.

"Oh!" You cry suddenly as you whip your head up from her chest, Alexia's eyes widening in surprise as she stares down at you. You let out a quiet hiccup as you pat her face softly, Alexia grimacing subtly at the clamminess of your fingers.

"Mapi is sleeping here." You tell her 'sternly'.

Alexia's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Mapi has her own house, no?"

"Yes but-" you hiccup. "But we want a sleepover, and Ingrid isn't home."

Alexia goes to speak again, but was promptly cut off by Mapi who now successfully had her shoes off and was stumbling to her feet.

"Sleepover!" She suddenly yells, Alexia visibly startling at the sound is she glances between the two of you unsurely.

"Sleepover!" You mimic, yanking yourself out of Alexia's hold. The blonde tries not to pout at the loss as she instinctively crosses her arms against her chest.

"Sleepover?" She repeats unsurely.

"Mhhh," you nod, sounding determined. "I am sleeping in bed with Mapi." 

"Qué?" Alexia frowns. You were choosing to sleep in bed with Mapi as opposed to her?

"Me and-" another hiccup. "Me and Mapi are going to have a sleepover, together."

Alexia's eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

"Because she'll be lonely by herself." You say, sounding genuinely annoyed that she didn't already know the answer to your question. It makes Alexia pause unsurely before she dares to speak again.

"But then I will be lonely." She futilely attempts to convince.

"It is-" you hiccup. "okay." You attempt to reassure though Alexia didn't find much comfort in your words.

She knows it wasn't rational to argue with you when you were the drunk. You were stubborn. So much so it was sometimes concerning. But Alexia had been by herself all night. She'd missed you, more so than she was willing to admit out loud and she couldn't quite find it in her to admit defeat just yet. 

"Please?" She finds herself pleading, sounding so unlike herself it makes her feel sick.

You hesitate, looking visibly unsure on what your next move should be. It was like deep down you knew something was wrong, but you were way too intoxicated to really figure it out.

Eventually, it appears as though your drunkenness wins out anyway, Alexia letting out a quiet exhale as she watches you tighten your grasp around Mapi's hand. "It's just for one night." You slur, sounding more convinced than Alexia feels.

She nods anyway, no longer willing to try and convince you otherwise when it was clear you had already made up your mind. Both you and Mapi soon disappear down the hall and into the guest room, the door slamming behind you a little harder than Alexia deems necessary. Swallowing yet another wince, she heads towards the front door and makes quick work of locking up for the night.

A night alone it was.

*

Alexia has no idea what time it is when the bedroom door of your shared room slowly creaks open, the hallway light shining in and illuminating the left side of the large bed she'd been left to sleep in alone. She sits up on her elbow, lips quirking up into a hopeful smile when she see's you tentatively peek your head through the gap the partially open door had created.

"Ale?" You murmur, not quite sounding fully sober but definitely not as intoxicated as you once had been.

"I'm here." Alexia assures quietly.

You step properly into the room before quietly closing the door behind you. "Mapi snores," you grumble as you stumble over to her and climb into bed, Alexia immediately bombarded by your body collapsing down onto her own forcing her head back onto its pillow. She loosely secures her arms around your waist as you continue talking.

"And she kicks." You nestle your head into her chest, your exhale of content seeping through the material of her shirt and hitting her skin. "You're much more comfortable."

Alexia raises an eyebrow. "I am?" She murmurs into the top of your head, her hand slipping beneath your shirt and resting on the bare skin of your back.

"Mhhh," You murmur, heavy lids fluttering closed. "It's sleepy time now."

"Okay." Alexia accepts with ease. You were still in the shirt you'd gone out in, and it was clear you hadn't brushed your teeth either, but she figures convincing you to get properly ready for bed now would only be pointless considering it appears as though you were only moments away from falling asleep. With the knowledge she had no choice other than to deal with it, she presses one last kiss to the top of your head before allowing her own eyes to close.

"Alexia?" Your quiet voice fills the room just as Alexia was on the brink of sleep.

"Mhh?"

"I love you."

Alexia smiles as she absentmindedly begins trailing the palm of her hand over the length of your back. "I love you too, bebé." She murmurs.

A few moments pass.

“Alexia?"

The blonde just about manages to refrain from groaning. "Sí, mi amor?"

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" You ask with genuine curiosity.

Alexia's eyes whip open as she lifts her head off of her pillow. "Qué?"

You lift your head up off of her chest. It was too dark to see your face fully, but she could just about make out the outline of your features.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" You ask again, your voice becoming more insistent.

Alexia groans quietly as she drops her head back onto her pillow. "What does that even mean?" She grumbles, lifting one of her hands to rub at her eye.

"It means," you scoot up her body slightly as you clumsily cup her cheeks. Her lips pucker at the action, and she can't help but smile when you lean in and press a somewhat uncoordinated kiss to them. "If I was a worm, would you still love me?" You repeat yourself for the third time as you pull away.

"Amor, I-"

"Would you?"

"I don't-"

You sit up suddenly, legs straddling her hips as you cross your arms over your chest. "You wouldn't, would you?"

Alexia is baffled at the sudden anger in your voice. She forces herself to sit up too, arms winding around your waist effectively holding your chest flush against her own. "I never said that." She defends herself as she presses her lips against your cheek.

"But you didn't not say that either." You grumble, the pout audible in your words.

Alexia sighs heavily as she glances at the clock. Three thirty in the morning was not the time to be having this conversation.

"Amor, I would love you no matter what." She explains, hoping to end this conversation here so she could finally get some sleep.

Your arms uncross as you lean properly against her and rest your head on her shoulder. "Even if I was  worm?" You ask quietly.

Alexia nods as she cups the back of your head and grazes the pad of her thumb over your scalp, smiling at the deep sigh of content that falls from your lips. "Sí. Even if you were a worm." She placates, and you hum in satisfaction as you clutch tightly to the back of her grey tank top.

"I would love you if you were a worm too." You murmur sleepily, and Alexia huffs out a breath of amusement as she settles back against her pillow. 

"I am glad, amor."

"Alexia?"

Alexia groans. "Bebé, it's late. Go to sleep."

"But I'm hungry!" You complain loudly.

Alexia sighs. Of course you were.

**

Tags:

@girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @helen-with-an-a @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @goldenempyrean

[cjlouwho]

prompt: im not gay, but my husband is.

(I loved those scenes in 911 and lonestar where they only wanted the straight white guy to work on them, so I think it would be funny happening with married, bi buck!)

“No, I don't want you touching me.”

They'd been sent on a call to a woman's residence. She had fallen in her driveway on the way to her car. From the moment they pulled up, trouble had started. She didn't want Hen touching her, wouldn't accept help from Chimney, and the second she spotted Diaz on Eddie's uniform she stopped him.

“Well, you're a straight, white man, Bobby,” Chimney said with a smile. “You wanna take the lead?”

“Wait,” Eddie put his hands on his hip, “do interracial relationships matter to you too?” he asked the woman. “Because, if so, Bobby's out.”

She looked around at everyone in a panic. “You!” she exclaimed when her eyes met Buck's. “You can do it, right?!”

“Yes, I am capable of placing a splint on your leg,” he said with no enthusiasm as Hen handed over the splint.

He bent down to get started but she held her arm out to stop him. “You're normal, right? You're not married to someone,” she glanced up at Bobby, “different, are you? Not gay or anything?”

“Oh, no ma'am, I'm not gay,” Buck assured her, before adding with a flash of his ring, “my husband is though.”

“Y- Your what?”

“My husband.”

“So you are gay?”

“Ma'am, please don't get him started,” Hen begged. “He will not shut up once he gets going.”

“There are actually some people that believe bisexuality doesn't exist,” Buck began, waving a finger to emphasize his point. The groans from the rest of the 118 didn't detour him. “It has been proven to cause mental health issues for people who identify as such, and in extreme cases-”

“Okay, okay,” Bobby interrupted, patting Buck's back a couple of times to get him to stop. “This lady is very clearly “in distress” and we should be focused on helping her.” He stared over at the woman, “If she'll let any of us.”

“Can't you call another team or something? One that isn't filled with minorities and heathens?”

“The 112?” Hen suggested.

Eddie shook his head. “All women crew today.” He looked down at the lady, “I'm guessing you wouldn't like that?”

“They're just not as capable as men,” she whined.

“143?” Chimney asked.

Buck stood back up. “With Captain Garcia?”

“No!” She yelled.

“217?” Eddie offered.

Buck perked up at that. He smiled at the lady on the ground. “You'd get to meet my husband!” he exclaimed. “He's working ground ops today. I could call him, give him a heads up?” He bent back down to the woman's level. “He is the gay one though.”

The woman groaned before pushing herself up and grabbing her purse, jerking away at Buck's attempt to help. “You know what? I'm just gonna take myself to the hospital,” she said as she started to hobble away.

“Say hello to Dr. Cohen for us,” Bobby said, sending her off with a wave. She let out one more angry yelp before getting into her car and slamming the door.

*****

Tommy had gotten home about an hour before Buck, already dressed in a white button down shirt tucked into black dress pants for dinner reservations they had that night.

When he heard the sounds of Buck's car door shutting, he headed to the front door and opened it, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey you,” he said with a smile.

Buck smiled back, dropping his duffel the second he reached the porch. He immediately wrapped himself around Tommy, surprising him with a kiss that elicited a moan from him.

“I got to call you my husband at work today,” Buck explained between kisses as Tommy gripped his waist. He led Tommy backward into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. “Twice.”

Tommy breathed out a laugh, pulling back just enough to look into Buck's eyes. “This was your first shift back after our honeymoon,” he reminded him. “So you lasted, what, twelve hours into your workday before mentioning me?”

Buck shook his head. “It was our first call of the day,” he informed him. “More like two hours.”

Tommy hummed, running his hands up and down Buck's waist. “Your whole team owes me double then,” he said before pressing a gentle kiss to Buck's lips.

It was Buck's turn to pull back this time. “What are you talking about?”

“They were taking bets on how long it would take for you to mention you were married. I said it'd be less than twelve hours, and you'd mention it more than once. Wait-” He paused, then gave Buck's waist a squeeze, “did you mention bisexual erasure?”

Buck sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It's an important topic, Tommy!”

Tommy simply smiled. “I hit the jackpot, Babe.”

“You placed bets on me?” Buck asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Mhm,” Tommy replied. He shrugged. “I won like five hundred dollars.”

Buck's eyes darkened at that. In one quick motion, he turned them and shoved Tommy against the door, pawing at his shirt to get it untucked. “That's so hot,” he moaned, smashing his mouth against Tommy's in a sloppy kiss.

They never did make their dinner reservations.

[mioons]

‎   ‎      ‎   ‎‎   ‎     ‎   ‎     ‎   ‎ ╱ ⟡ USE YOUR WORDS 💤

( 🛁 ) 𓈒 𓈒 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍 ╱ 𝒻 𓈒 𝓇𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 808 ── ✦ 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝗌 ᰔ ::

‎ ‎ 𓊆 𝒸𝑎𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑒́ 𓊇 ୨୧ 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 ──── 𓈒 𓈒 🧺

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung and you were both cuddling on the couch with you on his lap and his arms wrapped around you.

you suddenly had an idea and turned your head towards him, .

“what is it pretty girl?” he asked softly, running his fingers through the strands of your hair. you simply pouted your lips, letting him know you wanted a kiss from him.

heeseung caught on fast and gave you a cocky grin before whispering in your ear, “use your words baby.”

you rolled your eyes childishly and answered him, “wan’ a kiss hee, please?”

he hummed in amusement before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips. “how could i ever say no to you pretty girl,” he mumbled against your lips.

PARK JONGSEONG

you tugged onto his sleeve as you two were waiting in line to get seats at a restaurant. jay looked down at you and tilted his head, letting out a small sound of acknowledgment while leaning down in case you needed to tell him something.

“what’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked, lifting his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

and god when you looked up at him like that, he loses all sense of logic, turning into that high school boy that fell in love with you years ago.

you simply pucker your lips out for him, expecting him to automatically give you a kiss.

in normal circumstances jay would definitely do it. how could he deny his girlfriend anything when she looks so pretty and all he wanted to do was to make sure she was happy.

but since the both of them were outside, in a public space, jay wanted to teaser you a little bit. just a little won’t hurt he thought.

jay simply hummed and cocked his head to the side in feign confusion, “hm? i don’t quite understand.”

your brows furrowed in frustration and you folded your arms across your chest.

he saw this and let out a breathy chuckle, “words darling. use your words.”

you rolled your eyes, “i’d like a kiss please.”

the tall man simply giggled before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

SIM JAEYUN

the couple were at jake’s house, with him and you playing a nintendo game called animal crossing together.

“cmon jake stop moving! i’m trying to make our characters kiss!” you grumbled and hit the side of jake’s head lightly with your console.

jake laughed softly, reaching out his hand to rub the back of your hand, “i’m so sorry princess. what can i do to make it up to you?”

you looked over at him, squinting your eyes as you pretended to think of something when in reality you were just admiring his facial features.

after awhile, you pointed to your lips, expecting him to give you a kiss as compensation.

“gotta use that pretty little mouth of yours to tell me princess, pointing ain’t the trick,” jake smiled and tugged your hand, bringing you much much closer to him. so close to the point where the both of you were breathing the same air.

“kiss. i want a kiss.”

and without a second to waste, he immediately joined your lips together.

you couldn’t make your characters kiss in animal crossing but at least you got to kiss him in real life. still a win in your books.

PARK SUNGHOON

it was just a another day at the ice rink. you and your boyfriend, sunghoon were just skating around.

you weren’t good at skating so sunghoon had to stay by you the entire time. it didn’t bother him one bit though.

“if i can skate from one end to the other, you gotta give me something in return, ‘kay?” you suggested, looking over your shoulder to flash him a playful grin.

sunghoon simply smiled back and rolled his eyes playfully, “go ahead, but just know you’re not getting anything from me.”

and boy was he so wrong. he had never seen you skate that fast and smoothly in his life, it was like you became a professional athlete. well in his eyes you were always perfect.

when you reached the end of the rink, you held up a peace sign with both your knees and middle finger, smiling widely like a child on christmas day.

“alright alright, you win. what do you want?” he chuckled and skated up to you, immediately placing his hands on either side of your waist.

“hmm…” you whistled while in thought and then pointed to your lips, pursing them for him.

“ i don’t quite understand darling.”

you let out a groan and looked down before mumbling, “want a kiss.. from you..”

and the next thing you knew, all you could feel were his soft lips connecting with yours, both your hearts in tandem.

taglist ╱ @flwrstqr @wonsdoll @won4kiss @dioll @tzyunaes @suneng @jakesangel @wonsprincess

[vigilante-3073]

Cuddle For Warmth

Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Summary: Cold nights and shared sleeping bags.

TW: Fluff, pre-established relationship, cuddling.

The group had been traveling down the same road for days, slipping into the woods at night when they needed to set up camp. Daryl found himself getting antsy as more time passed without a solid form of shelter.

He didn't like being out in the open for long periods of time, especially with Y/N. Daryl worried about her more than himself at times, ensuring that she was always in his line of sight.

Daryl was not clingy by any means, but he couldn't keep himself from worrying.

He knew how dangerous the world had become and he couldn't help but be protective. Y/N was his one good thing in the world and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to her.

Their relationship had formed slowly over time, definitely not something that anyone would have expected. Y/N had always been kind to everyone, but she seemed to pay particular attention to Daryl.

She told him once that he made her feel safe and he believed her.

Daryl had never been good with words, but he showed his love for her in a variety of different ways.

He taught her how to survive on her own in case they were ever separated, paying particular attention to hunting and shooting. Daryl wanted her to be able to protect herself if there was ever a situation where he couldn't.

Daryl always made sure she was warm enough while also ensuring that she had enough food and water. He would even give her some of his portion when rations were limited.

Daryl was also one for physical touch, whether it be his arm draped around her waist at the campfire, his lips pressing quickly to her forehead before stepping away or his hand holding onto her's as they walked.

Daryl found it reassuring to know that she was there.

...

Y/N rolled out her sleeping bag by the fire before slowly crawling inside. She left the zipper open as she turned onto her side.

Daryl moved behind her, sliding into the sleeping bag with his chest pressed against her back.

"Lift your head," He muttered.

She lifted her head, allowing him to lay his arm across the ground for her to rest her head against.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, Daryl grunted.

His arm wrapped around her waist securely, holding her close to himself as the fire crackled softly beside them.

Y/N rested her hand on his forearm, sliding her palm downwards and intertwining her fingers loosely with his.

"You're cold," He muttered.

"I'll warm up," Y/N replied, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the comforting warmth already seeping into her body.

Daryl laid awake long after she had fallen asleep, listening for noises in the surrounding area.

It was like he couldn't turn his brain off when there was a possibility of danger with Y/N involved. His attention was pulled back to her as she shifted in his arms.

"I can hear you thinking," She mumbled without opening her eyes, "Glenn is on watch, we're okay," Y/N assured.

"I know," Daryl said gruffly, arm tightening around her waist to pull her body closer.

Y/N turned in the limited space the sleeping bag provided, looking up at him with tired eyes. Daryl lifted his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You need to sleep," Y/N said, he nodded.

She pressed herself against his chest, fingers slipping underneath his jacket before she slid her arm around him.

Y/N closed her eyes, letting out a content sigh as her head rested against his chest.

...

Daryl blinked his eyes open, surprised to find that he had actually fallen asleep for a few hours. The fire had dissipated, leaving only a small flame and bright red coals.

Daryl shifted, lifting his arm from around Y/N's waist as he slipped out of the sleeping bag carefully.

Her eyes fluttered open, turning onto her back as she blinked up at him, "Where are you going?" She mumbled.

"Just grabbing a drink. Go back to sleep," He said, lifting the warm material of the sleeping bag further over her shoulder.

Daryl dusted off his knees as he stood up, making his way over to the car and opening one of the backpacks. He pulled out a crumpled water bottle, taking a few sips before tucking it away.

Glenn sat on the hood of the car, a rifle held in his hands as he listened.

"Anythin'?" Daryl asked, Glenn shook his head, "Not a peep. I wake Rick in an hour to switch off," Glenn said.

Daryl nodded, he felt like he wasn't contributing when he had the privilege of sleeping through the night, but Rick had insisted that he take a night to rest.

"You two are really cute together," Glenn stated.

"Thanks," Daryl muttered.

"I think everyone deserves to have a love like that... One that makes life worth living again, you know?" Glenn said.

Glenn couldn't have been more right. Daryl would give his life for that woman in a heartbeat and he couldn't imagine a future without her in it.

Y/N was absolutely everything to him.

Daryl nodded, returning to his sleeping bag and laying down behind Y/N. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest.

"Are you okay?" Y/N mumbled, hand finding his under the material of the sleeping bag.

"Yeah, I'm good," Daryl assured.

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ instead of sleeping, satoru and your daughter argue over what to name her stuffed dragon.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.9k words. established relationship (#married). the toddler dialogue is purposefully not structured correctly since it’s words from a toddler. fem!reader. intended lowercase. warning: you will wish you had a kid with gojo after reading this.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊this was gonna be a basic thought post, but i got more and more interested in the concept and was like “y’know what? fuck it, ima just make this into a full fic.” so here we are with a more full look at dad!gojo <3.

satoru mumbles, "but i think he likes being called spike,” and it's obvious that he's sulking. you don't even have to look up from your book to confirm it.

“well, you don't know him like i do!” your daughter replies, tucking herself into your side.

you flip through the picture book's pages fast, just getting brief glances of its colorful illustrations. unicorns, dragons, knights, and princesses decorated the pages. after turning the last page, you sigh and put the book down on the nightstand. despite the fact that the book was designed for toddlers, it actually looked interesting. you just know you would love to read it to your toddler. you can imagine yourself reading it to her, seeing the excitement on her face as she explores the world of fantasy—her absolute favorite genre.

but unfortunately, that image in your head will have to wait for another day, because her attention? is completely taken by the debate between her and her father.

how the argument started is beyond you. just ten minutes ago, you and satoru were snuggled up on your daughter’s bed, trying to read her to sleep. and now? satoru and her are in a heated debate over what to name her stuffed dragon. it's tough not to be amazed at how something so easy can become so complicated with him.

"i bought him, drove him around in my car, and wrapped him up in a cute little box for you. i think we know each other pretty well.” satoru smiles and reaches across the bed for the dragon.

“nuh-uh! he not even like you!” your toddler, with her tiny hands and puffed cheeks, clutches her stuffed dragon tightly against her chest. the plushie, its vibrant green scales and friendly eyes, seemed to come alive in her hold.

he retreats back to his seat on the edge of your daughter's bed, his lips curled into a frown as he asks, "how come?"

her mouth opens, then closes again. you look away for a moment to give satoru a look of disapproval, and by the time you return your attention to her, her brows are already starting to furrow. she mumbles under her breath, "because," running her small fingers around the plush dragon’s ear. she looks to be at a loss for words, as if she hasn't come up with an answer to satoru's question.

but that's okay, since you—happily, do.

"because you’re taking his time away from storytime. and satoru, in case you didn't know? when it's time to go to bed, we have storytime.”

your daughter looks up, her face beaming as she screams, "yup! and mommy picks the super-duper bestest stories ever!"

satoru gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he rises from his bed and holds his chest. "baby, who's side are you on?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm just sa—"

"oh, sweetheart," he mumbles as he rushes around the corner of the bed, his movements quick to reach your side. without wasting a second, he rests a palm on your forehead, checking your temperature with a clear look of false concern. concerned people don’t have to hold back the urge to smile. actually, they don't have a smile at all—but for some reason, satoru does, and he's terrible at hiding it. "are you sick? having some hallucinations? is that why you've decided to side with enemy?”

your daughter giggles, and it only feeds satoru's act.

he turns his head towards the source of the giggles. a playful pout forms on his lips as he teasingly asks, "or did this little munchkin of ours use her princess magic to change your mind? she has a way of doing that to me sometimes, y’know."

his free hand reaches towards your toddler, fingers wiggling in anticipation. as his fingers make contact with your little one's soft, ticklish skin, even more giggles slip past her lips.

she tries to squirm away from his touch, but that's when he adds another hand to the tickle fest, and all chance of escape is gone. at that point, she visibly gives up, curling into herself to try to halt her dad’s tickling.

“i-i don’t have powers, daddy!” you daughter manages to stifle out through her laughs. you smile at the sound—it’s one you'll never get tired of hearing.

"you can't be a princess without powers! every princess has powers!"

“i-i'm n-not a princess though!“

satoru's fingers pause in their spot, his eyes widening in disbelief. "not a princess? how on earth can that even be?"

you’re sure if she needed him to, he could easily write an entire book about how she’s a princess.

he scoops her up from her place next to you, careful not to let her dangling legs hit you in the process. she lands on his hip, her eyes fixated on him as he lovingly whispers, "you're daddy's little princess!" he pauses, then adds, "and mommy is the queen, so that makes me—"

“the king?”

“you’re just so smart, huh? see, a perfect quality of a princess.”

“but princesses have dragons! big ones with so many pretty colors and names! they go—“ she cuts herself off and raises her tiny arms high. with a wide smile on her face, she takes a deep breath and lets out a loud roar.

satoru nods and smiles warmly at her, "oh, i see...well, y’know what? not all princesses have dragons.”

she tilts her head, and you awe at the sight. “they don’t?”

"nope," he says, taking her tiny hand in his, wrapping it securely around his finger. he lightly massages the back of her hand, and it’s soothing—scratch that, reassuring. you can tell from the way your daughter leans her head on his shoulder, tucking herself in the crook of his neck. "you don't need a dragon to be a princess. you're my princess ‘cause you're kind, smart, and full of love. i'd say that's all you need to be one."

"really?" she asks, waiting for his nod before continuing. "okay…but i still want a dragon."

"i get it, munchkin," he hums as he takes the dragon plushie from the bed. "we still haven't figured out a name for this guy, hm?"

“nuh-uh!”

“he looks like his power is being super cuddly. he's so cuddly that he puts you right to sleep…how ‘bout…fluffy?"

“ew.”

“fluffy sounds cute, no?”

"but dragons aren't cute. daddy, they breathe fire."

"wel—" satoru begins, but your daughter interrupts.

“his name should be fireball!”

“satoru, she does have a point,” you assert.

she really did. it was a dragon, not something adorable, but something that’s usually thought of as a villain—or a protector. athough deep down, a part of you just wanted this little debate to finally wrap up so you could finally catch some much-needed sleep.

“i thought i took away all of her princess magic?” satoru frowns, "stop siding with the enemy!"

you can't help but snort at his comment. mostly because, for whatever reason, he’s taking this dispute very seriously. so seriously that he doesn't seem to notice you're trying to do anything to finally get to bedtime. "baby i was just sa—"

"who says this dragon had to breathe fire anyways?" he interrupts.

when your toddler goes to respond, it hits you. "what about fluffy fireball?" you mention. it's a perfect combination of the two. well, okay, maybe not a “perfect” combination, but it's good enough to finish this debate.

if you weren't so tired, you’d stop and ogle the way they ask "huh?" in sync.

you shrug, "well, why not? he is pretty fluffy and spits out fire. there can’t be a better name than that."

your daughter holds out the dragon, looks at it for a while, then brings it up to her ear.

she gives the impression that he’s nodding his head before hushedly saying, "got it." she then turns back to face you and yells confidently, "fluffy fireball agrees!”

"well, i don't agree," satoru huffs. "the name is way too long an—"

“satoru.”

“but—“

"satoru," you say more firmly, and his shoulders sink as he mumbles "okay" beneath his breath.

your daughter lets out a yawn, and your eyes are immediately drawn to her. you signal for satoru to come over to the bed, and he does, bending down to your level.

“is my girl sleepy?”

"um," she pauses and looks at her dragon. "just a little bit."

"i can tell," you say, gently rubbing her back. you sneak a quick glance at your husband, and he looks the other way because he knows it's way past her bedtime. you sit up next to her ear and murmur, "i think fluffy fireball is ready to go to sleepy-time."

she gives the dinosaur a look before asking him, "y’wanna sleep with me?” then, she shakes the dinosaur's head up and down before exclaiming, "okay!"

you watch as she leaps out of satoru’s arms, and plops down on the bed. the room fills with giggles and the creaking of the bed as she scampers towards the middle. once she's next to you, she settles in and gets comfortable.

you can't help but smile as you see her tiny hands reaching out, playfully fluffing the pillows around her. then finally, with a satisfied sigh, she snuggles under the covers, cocooning herself in warmth.

she sets her dragon on her left side, making sure her loyal companion is there to do his job and look after her (the princess). it’s cute really. however, if that dragon becomes even a little bit too comfortable with the job, you know satoru will undoubtedly compete for the position. he'd say, "it can't just show up one day and take my job," or something along those lines. knowing him, he might even contemplate throwing it away—who knows.

you’re jolted out of your trance when your daughter asserts to her dinosaur, "you can sleep on daddies side, he snores."

satoru gasps, “i do not—“

“yes you do!”

“when have i eve—“

"guys," you sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion in your voice. you cast a glance at both of them, making sure you have their undivided attention before pressing on. "c'mon, let's all take a breather and save the debate about your dad's snoring for tomorrow, okay?"

"but mommy, tell him he snores!" she whines. "he goes—" she cuts herself off to mimic satoru's snoring, and his face is priceless.

"now that’s just rude. how can you speak to me so coldly?” satoru scurries underneath the covers on the side of the dragon. and just like that, your daughter and her dragon are nestled between the two of you.

“this’ll be settled in a family meeting tomorrow. you two have already had one debate today. so right now? lets all go to bed.” you declare, then nestle deeper beneath the covers, closing your eyes.

as the voices of saddened "okays" and "alrights" blend together, a collective sigh fills the room. the sound of a click follows, and even with your eyes closed, the absence of light is unmistakable. it makes you feel even more exhausted than before.

you feel satoru’s arm slide around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. meanwhile, your daughter stirs slightly, searching for a more comfortable position in the cozy space between the two of you. you can feel her movements, her small body nestled snugly against yours.

you snuggle impossibly closer to your pillow, and take a deep breath.

silence, that’s what follows—and it’s nothing but peaceful. that is, until satoru bursts out laughing. "i don't snore," he blurts out into the darkness, his voice filled with mischief. "i just provide a little background music for the night."

it's at this point that you decide to be extremely biased at the family meeting tomorrow. he’s not winning a damn thing.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

tender is the Friday night

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

January 1998  Friday nights used to be all about going out - dive bars and karaoke and feeling young and alive. But now, you would not wish to be anywhere other than your sofa in the suburbs.

Part of At Home with The Harringtons

Word count: 3k

Contents: Sickeningly tender casual romance with Mr & Mr H. Parental domesticity with our love birds and their two daughters. Tired parents. An adorable baby and mentions of an exploding diaper and a nosebleed (just in case those are icks for you).

Author’s Note: Well, this has been sitting (mostly finished) in my GDrive since March 2024. I hope it warms your heart on these cold January days! If you see any typos...no you didn't

A warm feeling radiates from deep within your chest as you watch the candle flame flicker and dance on the coffee table. The scent of lavender and bergamot blends with warm milk and baby lotion and the lingering scent of Friday night spaghetti. 

For the first time all day, there is no one touching you. No baby swaddled against your heart’s centre, or resting her squishy cheek against your shoulder.  No toddler tucked against your side with her curious little fingers poking and stroking at you or her sister. There’s no passing hand squeezing your shoulder or your hip, and no brushing fingers or quick kisses as you pass one child or the other over like a baton so the other can take five minutes to pee in silence or eat a snack without having to share it.

Instead, right now, you are cradled by the soft squish of the sofa beneath you. Untouched. Missing it. 

The dancing flame is eclipsed and you are snapped back into consciousness, back into the room where your husband treads across the rug in slow steps on socked feet, gently patting the baby’s back as she fights valiantly against the dragging need for sleep. He is still in his work shirt and slacks - the sleeves are rolled and creased, and there’s a spaghetti sauce stain that is a problem for tomorrow. Steve’s eyes are tired behind his glasses, but you think he might be the most handsome thing you have ever seen.

Ava’s huge eyes peek at you over the breadth of Steve’s shoulder, like a tiny tired marsupial. Despite her Dad’s warm tapping fingers, she’s holding back a burp to eke out just a little more time before bed.

You get it. You do the same thing, resisting the urge to close your eyes and say good night to Steve. You always want one more minute with him, one more kiss. 

Steve gets it too. One more thing to tell you, one more ‘love you’, his voice sleep-slurred. 

“C’mon, bubba. I know it’s there,” Steve’s voice is low and quiet as he kisses Ava’s head. He nuzzles against her silk soft baby hair and you watch his own eyes blink in that same sleepy way.

“Want me to try?” 

Your voice makes his eyes pop open again. Steve pushes his bone-deep tiredness behind a little smile as he adjusts Ava and the muslin cloth to his other shoulder. 

“Mm-mm, I got it.” 

It takes a few more minutes before his coaxing and patting pays off and Steve tells the baby how wonderful she is as he wipes her milky mouth. Ava looks so small still in his arms, a tiny thing in the strong and steady cradle of her Dad’s arms. She has given up the fight to stay awake and your heart pangs already for the newborn she was a few weeks ago. 

Steve dips down slowly on cracking knees so that you can kiss her good night before he brings her up to bed. 

That intoxicating baby smell makes your chest flutter as you brush a tiny kiss on her cheek. It will only be a few hours before she is awake again, needing to be changed and fed and soothed. Despite how wrung-out you feel, your heart yearns for the way Ava gazes up at you during her feeds; her eyes can focus a little more now, and her smiles are plentiful for her favourite people. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl. Love you.” 

Steve ignores the pulling ache in his lower back so you can dole out a few more butterfly kisses. He is rewarded with his own lingering cheek kiss; you nuzzle the stubble there and tell him to go on up before you ruin her sleep schedule with your massive affections or consume her whole because she is simply so delicious. 

He talks to sleeping Ava quietly as he ascends the stairs, his voice getting further away and more quiet until it picks up on the baby monitor.

“How ‘bout it, kid? You sleep really good tonight so Mama and I can not be zombies tomorrow? S’a no brainer to me, sweetpea. We’ll be way more fun tomorrow if we get a little more sleep. Promise you.” 

You listen, feeling full-hearted as you try not to melt into the couch and you vow to get up in just a minute to fetch him a well-deserved beer and something from your candy stash. It was a beyond-deserved treat after a long week of work and a full evening of Beth not wanting him to be out of her sight, wanting to always hold his hand or be held by him in this new bout of separation anxiety that had come with big-sisterhood. Beth missed him terribly when he was not there - a heartache you knew all too well. 

It stung too when she wanted him instead of you; when her face fell a little when she looked around or called for him and Steve was not there, when she was stuck with second best again (at least that is how it felt some days). You had all been totally spoiled during his paternity leave, which bled into winter break at Steve’s school. And then January came and Steve returned to work (with a heart full of reluctance and dread), and you had evenings and weekends to get you through the dark winter days. 

Over the baby monitor you hear Steve’s foot on the squeaky floorboard and the barest hint of the breath he holds as he waits and watches to see if Ava will wake. You smile, seeing it all play out in your mind's eye as he backs slowly out to check on Beth before grabbing the quickest shower and changing out of his work clothes hours after returning home. Finally, finally, he is on his way to you and you don’t have to share.  

As he washes the school day off, you make yourself get up so you do not succumb to sleepiness. You could follow him up, sit on the toilet lid and talk through the curtain of steam, or get distracted gazing at the sleeping girls when you could be gathering laundry. After a once around the kitchen, tidying the detritus of another day, you return to the sofa with a cold beer for Steve, a peppermint tea for yourself and two packs of Reese’s Crunchy Cookie Cups to satiate the post-dinner sugar craving. The couch cradles you once more and you hear Steve’s steady tread on the stairs. Perfect timing. 

Steve’s tired smile, when he skids into the living room in his socks, reminds you of the golden glow of the setting sun. 

“Hi.” 

He is nearly breathless after his change into clean sweats, speedy so that he can melt into the sofa and into you without waiting another moment. Steve is greedy for his time with you, that peaceful pocket of you that he does not need to share. His hair is a damp riot after tugging his hoodie on, towel-dry and tangles combed out, and his glasses are slightly skewed on his face. You are besotted with him.

“Hi.” 

Your arms open wide for him and Steve thinks that this must be how sailors felt after months at sea. He lays his body mostly on top of yours, making you breathless and giggly as he noses at your neck; he is shower-warm with the clean scent of his shower gel. A small voice in your head reminds you that you are still un-showered, contaminating him, but when Steve kisses from your pulse point all the way up to your lips, that thought easily ignored. You hold him to you, winding your arms and legs with him so that he never ever can leave. 

“Missed you.” His voice is warm and tickling and so tender. He kisses your laughter away before pulling back just enough to look at you. “Did you get more beautiful today? Damn…”

You had not felt particularly beautiful today but under Steve’s toasty gaze, you feel like a precious gem. 

“I think I have oatmeal in my hair since this morning and I put on deodorant three times.” Your fingers find their home in Steve’s thick hair, sliding and pressing against his scalp. “That really does it for you, huh?” 

You watch him melt a little and he smiles up at you, nodding minutely. “Oh yeah. You have spit-up on your sleeve too. That’s hot, babe.”

Tired eyes roll as Steve rests his head on you again, guided down to rest by your gentle hand. This was dangerous territory, getting comfortable like this when you were both totally wiped of energy. More than once, you had both dozed off just like this and woke to a crying baby or toddler with little time to nurse your sore neck or dead arm. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” you murmur, wobbling Steve’s head gently. “Barely seen you.” 

His closed eyes open slowly and he rubs his face before slapping his own cheek. “M’awake. Promise.” 

Steve moves enough to reach his beer on the coffee table, chugs a third of it and settles down on you again, careful not to rest too heavy on your tender chest. 

“Missed you today, Mrs H.” 

He had called you from work on his lunch break, needed to hear your voice after a particularly challenging morning of check-in appointments and lesson plans with the kids who needed his help and meetings with concerned parents. 

“Missed you more, handsome.”

Your call had been cut off by an explosive diaper and the tears that ensued (Ava's from her discomfort, Beth’s because she did not get to speak to Dada, yours because everything felt utterly overwhelming). By the time you could call him back - once everyone had calmed down and there were smiles all ‘round - Steve had a kid with a nosebleed to deal with and you left him a voicemail (mainly of Beth) for when he got back to his cellphone. He had listened to it three times before launching into the final furlong of the school day before the bell signalled freedom for the weekend. 

“Shitty day?” you ask, knowing already that it was. You had asked earlier how Steve’s day was and he had sighed and brushed it off, took the distraction of Beth wanting uppies so she could put a clip in his hair instead of releasing that pressure valve that had been tight and tense all day. 

“Yeah. Fridays aren’t supposed to be crazy.” Your sweater muffles his voice as he rubs his cheek against washed-soft cotton, one of your daughter’s comfort tics, a tell of tiredness even when she insists that she is no tired, Mama!

“M’sorry, big guy.” You kiss his head, closing your eyes as you pour all of the love you have for him into the crown of his head. 

Steve feels that love, the warm wash of adoration and goodness that spills forth from you, and he soaks it up. 

“S’just hard some days. I try to make a difference and just when you get somewhere with a kid before the winter break, they come back to school and whatever’s going on at home has pushed them back like four steps.” 

He cares so much, and it makes you heartache to see how frustrating his work can be and how frustrated he gets when it all feels futile. 

You trace swirling patterns on his back “Those kids are lucky to have you, Stevie. You’re always on their side. M’sorry it was a hard day.”

Steve rests his chin carefully on the shelf of your breasts, smiles softly. “Thank you,” his voice is quiet. You never brush off his frustrations, his moods. You listen and Steve knows you see him, all of him. You never placate or pander, and you are never afraid to try to talk him around or be a little bit blunt when he’s being thick-headed.

“You had a hard day too,” Steve says after a moment. “I can tell.”

You shrug a little, as much as you can with your human blanket weighing you into the sofa (you have not felt so comfortable all day). “There were hard bits, but it wasn’t bad. Beth was kinda clingy, and then when Ava was down she didn’t want me at all.”

There is an almost imperceptible wobble in your voice, but Steve hears it and holds you tighter. 

“She was really helpful with Ave though. Super big sister,” you promise. “Just a few tricky parts.” 

You do not say how much you missed him, how much Beth missed him and how, without his magic touch, it had been hard to work the rattling gas from Ava’s milk-filled belly. He knows, and it kills him. He missed you too, and he missed Beth’s clever chatter and Ava’s gurgling and gassy smiles.

Both content to sit in silence, you are too tired to reach for the remote and choose something to watch (or ignore), comfortable to just listen to the sound of breathing over the baby monitor and the crackle of your burning candle. 

Steve lifts his head after a few minutes, a dreamy smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes. “Remember when we used to go out on Fridays?” 

As if you could forget. When you first got together, your Friday nights were spent bar hopping or holed up in a booth in your favourite dive until the need to do karaoke pulled you out onto the streets singing What’s Up and Achy Breaky Heart. Dancing in sweaty clubs to Rhythm Is a Dancer and hosting dinner parties in your apartment which often ended up with a late-hour idea to go out again, or at least venture out to get more wine and beer from the shop on the corner. 

A face-aching smile spreads across your face. “Remember when Corroded played that gig at Lounge Ax? The metal night?” Steve’s face tells you he will never ever forget it.  “Nance and I ran that merch table like marines.” Your voice is giggle-filled, remembering the all-hands-on-deck weekend when Eddie’s band got a headline spot and he almost puked from nerves and a pre-show shot of whiskey.

“You were the hottest roadie ever,” you tease, squeezing his bicep. 

There is an album of pictures in the photo trunk, a mix of your own snaps and Jonathan’s professional shots. If you were not so comfy, you would make Steve haul it out. But for now, in your comfy state, you are content with the memories.

“Two words.” Steve’s laughing now, body shaking as he tries to hold it in. He keeps his eyes on you to see your reaction. “Frozen daiquiris.”

Immediately you are brought back to the summer of ‘92 when you and Robin overdid it on fajitas and homemade frozen cocktails in the tiny kitchen of your apartment near Logan Square. You had truly never felt worse.

“Don’t, I’ll puke.” You shudder at the thought of artificial strawberry and white rum, of dancing on the coffee table to Baby Got Back and crying when the pizza place forgot the mozzarella sticks with your takeout order. 

Steve muffles his laughter, hoping not to wake the sleeping girls upstairs. 

The urge to get him back becomes too good to resist. “Okay, Mr Flaming Sambucca, simmer down.”

His laughter turns to a groan and he hides his face against your chest. “Nooo. Don’t even go there.”

You dissolve into laughter with him, sharing little memories of Friday nights past. Of making far too many fajitas for a Mexican-themed dinner party and accidentally crashing someone’s wedding photos at Navy Pier. There were quiet nights to balance the crazy ones; date nights with just you and Steve, when he took you to your first Cubs game and you were spotlighted on the KissCam, and a night out in a far-too-fancy wine bar that left you hungry for greasy burgers and fries in your nice clothes on the way home. Nights like this one too when you lay together on a too-small sofa, too zapped of energy after the work week to go out again or socialise, when being quiet with each other was exactly what you needed. 

Cheeks warm and abdominals aching, you feel lighter and brighter than you have in days. Remembering the past has been like a factory reset, reminiscing rather than planning grocery lists and washing baby vests, or worrying about who will look after the kids once your maternity leave ends, if you can afford unpaid leave. Thinking about those two twenty-somethings who found each other while finding their way in the world, instead of numbing your brain with reruns or falling asleep before 8pm, was exactly what you needed.

“Are we boring now? Boring parents?” you ask as you wind a strand of honey brown around your finger.

“Mm, maybe. I dunno, I think we’re still fun.” Steve smiles up at you, his eyes are warm and brighter than they have been in days behind his glasses. “Wouldn’t change this for anything.”

There’s a wave of adoration that washes over you, warming you to the bone and you squish Steve as hard as you can. 

“Even for one more karaoke night in McCalls?” you ask, dropping kisses along his hairline. The dive had closed not long after you moved to the suburbs, and Robin tried to insist that your move was the reason it shut.

He shakes his head minutely, leans closer to catch your lips in a sweet little kiss. “Mm-mm, even that. A full night of sleep would be nice, but no. M’happy.”

You smile against his lips, savouring the feeling of his lips and the hoppy tint of beer that lingers long after the bottle has been drained. 

“I like being boring with you.”

Steve lights up the same way Beth does when she’s giggly-happy, with the same pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. “I don’t want to be boring with anyone else.”

Thank you for reading! Your comments, reblogs and likes are cherished and adored!

[pathologicalreid]

hii!! its me again!! please could i request another spencer reid x female!reader where spence is just reading a book and minding his own business, and then the reader comes along and wants his attention bc she's feeling a bit needy, so she starts bugging him to get his attention and its just really fluffy and ends up being really cute :)) thank you!!

attention | S.R.

in which you attempt to get your boyfriends attention

who? spencer reid x fem!reader

category: fluff! tooth rotting sweet fluff!

content warnings: defined relationship, anna karenina, idk its just fluffy

word count: 569

a/n: howdy! thank you so much for the request!!!!! this was fun and sweet to write. i hope you enjoy <333

He was sitting on the couch, his nose buried in a book. Spencer wasn’t purposely ignoring you, but his reread of Anna Karenina held all of his attention.

You were sat in the reading chair, a novel open in your hand, but at some point, your eyes had wandered from the ink to your boyfriend. In your defense, he had just been in Oregon on a case for a week, and this was the first time you’d seen him since.

Tilting your head to the side, you looked at him, “Spence?” You whispered, not wanting to interrupt him, and hoping he would look at you when he finished his page or chapter.

He didn’t budge. He kept his hand covering his mouth and every once in a while, his lips would move as he read. Realistically, you knew that he would be done reading the entire novel within an hour or two, but books be damned, you had missed him.

“Spence?” You tried again, tucking your bookmark in your book, and setting it on the side table. “Spencer,” you called his name in a sing-song voice.

Like Excalibur from the stone, he stayed put. You couldn’t help but smile at him, because you had always been fascinated by his ability to get lost in a novel, let alone a novel he’s read countless times before.

Giving it a rest, you got up, refilled your glass of water, and sat back down at the opposite end of the couch he was reading on.

Spencer reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, giving you hope that his attention was off the book, but he just went back to the book, never even lifting his eyes from the pages.

You set your water down on the coffee table before turning to face him again, the leather of the couch was cold even through the fabric of your clothes. Instinctively, you moved closer to Spencer, who radiated heat like a furnace during all four seasons.

He adjusted so that his legs were more extended across the couch and kept the book at eye level.

Sighing, you said his name again before resorting to slightly more extreme measures. Making your way across the couch so that you could poke your head through the slot between the book and his body. Acknowledging you, he hummed and gave you a dopey smile. “Hey,” He murmured against your lips when you leaned forward to kiss him.

Feeling accomplished, you laid down next to him and settled your cheek on his chest, “Hi, Spence.”

Spencer moved his arms so one was holding the book up and the other was lazily scratching up and down your back, “Do you want to get dinner later?” He whispered lowly like he was in a library. Really, in his apartment that wasn’t much of reach.

You nodded against the fabric of his sweater, “Yeah.” You peeked at his book, “Are you reading Anna Karenina in the original Russian?”

He hummed, “I read a translated version on the flight home, I want to compare the two versions and see… Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I think you’re perfect,” you whispered before setting your head back on his chest. “Continue reading, I’m good here,” you said, closing your eyes, intent on taking a nap.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “You’re perfect.”

[wandasdollie]

  ꒰  𑄽୧ ꒱ 𓈒  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ensommeillé. ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀𝜗𝜚  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀18+! men and minors dni.

 .   ̣̣̣︶ ྀ pairing ˚ ۪ ݁ wanda x bunnyhybrid!reader

꒰  tags ꒱ 𓈒  mommy!wanda ,  smut w/o much plot , somnophilia , cunnilingus (r!recieving) , squirting , aftercare.

 ꔫ  ࣪ ˖ a / n ⑅♡ ྀ˖ this is based off of two requests i recieved, so thank you very very much for sending them in!! i luv seeing your thoughts, i hope i did them justice <33 pls send more!!   ໒ ྀི>֯ . <ྀི֯ ̥ ︣ა

 ⁺ ⑅  ꫂ ၴႅၴ tag list ֯݁ต  @emiliaisdead , @mommywandas ( pls comment if you'd like to be added~! )

When you finally return home after what you believe to be the world’s longest day of work in history, the pout settled on your lips is unrelenting. You might be a little overdramatic, sure it’s only about four in the afternoon, but you haven’t caught a break all day! You’ve been running around for hours, doing all of the little errands that your bosses have sent you on, waiting on guests and cleaning up messes like your life depended on it. You haven’t sat down once in hours!

So, completely needless to say, when you come home, it’s all you can do to not throw yourself on the floor and fall asleep right then and there.

But you don’t want to disappoint Wanda when she gets home, no no. You want to fix her dinner so that it will be ready by the time that she returns home, and your bedroom is awfully messy right now from the frantic way you’d gotten dressed this morning. But… there’s the sofa… and as you release your hair from its tight braids, long, fluffy ears falling heavy against your shoulders, you can feel all of your day’s stress melting through you, your feet much like cement cubes as you trudge through your home.

Mama would want you to rest, right? She always says that her favorite little bunny needs her beauty sleep, and you wouldn’t want to upset her by not doing just that! Of course, you want to look your prettiest for her always. And she does encourage your slumber as often as she can. She has quite the fascination with it, you’ve noticed. But, it’s best not to worry yourself too much over that right now. You need to make some dinner and clean up and—

You’re not sure just how you wound up on the sofa. Nor how your clothes landed in little pink piles on the floor; you’re usually much more careful to put them in the laundry basket. Yet, here you sit, in nothing but your panties and a sweater that you always keep in the living room in case you get too cold, laying beneath your favorite blanket. Your feet are perfectly tucked, and though you’ve turned on the tv to watch whatever program is on right now, you’ve brought one ear over your eyes to act like a sleeping mask, blocking out the image on the screen, along with the light bouncing off of the snow outside.

It takes you so few minutes to fall asleep, someone would think you’ve been awake all of 24 hours. But you certainly haven’t, even though you did get up quite early this morning. Your exhaustion hits you so completely that you just can’t help but pass out immediately. So, you drift off quite easily, though your worry over Wanda’s return is still toying at the back of your head.

𓊆 . . . 𓊇

You hadn’t heard her come through the door, though she did so quite loudly. Wanda herself had gone through her own exhaustive day of work, and as usual, she couldn’t possibly wait any longer to wrap her arms around her bunny and squeeze all of her stresses away. Though, when she returns home to less than your usual fanfare, she grows quite concerned right away.

That is, until she spots you on the sofa, curled up so tightly in your little ball of slumber that Wanda’s heart nearly explodes inside of her chest.

She is sure to be quiet as she sets down her purse and pulls off her overcoat, kicking off her heels to save you from their noise, yet leaving on the pencil skirt and tight, buttoned shirt that hug her curves so enticingly. The sight of you all cuddled up and sleepy, in addition to the setting sun outside, makes her yawn. She herself has grown impossibly tired, yet hides it well as she comes to your side at the sofa.

She gently pets the top of your head, sitting beside you on the small sliver of cushion that your body does not occupy. She simply cannot help herself, and lifts the blanket so that she may drink in the image of you sleeping there. The smirk that rises to her darkly stained lips is downright greedy as she notices just how little you wear, sweater bunched up high around your chest from your tossing and turning, showing off your tummy. Wanda licks her lips, hands moving from the crown of your head down to your side, gently rubbing into your warm flesh, her hands still freezing cold from the short walk from her car to the front door.

The feeling of sudden cold against your skin makes you flinch, but is not enough to fully wake you. You wiggle away from the feeling, but Wanda’s firm hand only follows you, softly tickling you in attempt at waking.

“Wake up, little one.” Her voice is soft, so coaxing and almost a bit lewd, as is her fashion when trying to wake you up in such a pleasant manor. Though, she doesn’t want to wake you entirely. She has always had a preference for your half-asleep manor, when all you can do is whine and fuss and, on days when you wake up from inappropriate dreams, moan and cum around her fingers until you ultimately fall back asleep like nothing had happened in the first place.

When you don’t wake up even after she gives your cottontail a little squeeze, her wandering hands eventually hook beneath your knees, lifting you until she holds your little form against her chest, walking you to the bedroom. There’s not much she can do with you while on the sofa, especially when her body is still so constricted by tight work clothes. But when she does make it to the bedroom, Wanda does not strip. She adores the power she holds over you when you lay naked below her, while she remains entirely dressed. There is simply something so enticing about her little bunny looking so obscene and nude while she maintains all of her decency.

As she lays you on the bed, Wanda delicately removes your sweater, and you unconsciously move to help her, arms lifting out of sheer habit— you have done just this far too many times before. The redhead cannot contain her low groan at the sight of you sleeping so soundly, so primed for her taking, so innocent while her thoughts are such the opposite.

Her fingers gently trail down your sides, fingernails lightly scratching into your flesh, sending tickles through you, bringing just the littlest bit of awareness into you. She whispers something in Sokovian, something along the lines of ‘such a pretty girl, such pretty tits.’ Had you been at all lucid, the words would have made you turn into putty in her hands, though, you’re already just that. Just a little plaything, just for her.

Wanda straddles you now, as best as her tight skirt will allow, and dips down so that she can place soft, fleeting kisses into your stomach. She massages into the flesh at your hips, then your breasts, her hands still incredibly cold against you, the little prickles of goosebumps forming on your arms right away. This, she feels guilty about. Though she enjoys having you all to herself, while you are so blissfully unaware, she does not like it when her little girl is at all uncomfortable, especially in the cold of the winter. Despite how carnal she may feel for you at this moment, her most important want for you is comfort. So, she decides she must begin to act quicker, so that her bunny is not left in this cold for too long.

The redhead’s fingers slip down your sides, index fingers hooking into your panties and sliding them off with ease. She once again releases one of those lust-fueled moans, licking her lips from just how downright delicious you look. Though you aren’t even conscious enough to be turned on, your pussy is already slick with arousal, simply begging for Wanda’s fingers, for her mouth, for any of her. Still, she will remain patient. Patient, despite how she is so very entranced by you. The soft, innocent look on your face is enough to tell her to be gentle.

“Dripping wet for me, and you don’t even know it. Silly girl,” she coos gently, lowering herself so that her kisses meander to the bottom of your tummy, right where it’s the most sensitive, right where she knows you’re sure to stir from the touch. And she’s right, even the tiniest bit of touch there makes you squirm below her, your hands bunching up in the sheets below you, your hips raising ever so slightly to meet her touch.

“Needy little thing…” She purrs, kisses trailing to meet her hands on your thighs, which she props up, spreads wide. Wanda presses a few little kisses to the insides of your thighs until her head comes between them, her kisses pressing to your cunt, lips becoming wet from the slick that she finds there.

Even the tiniest touch has you more awake now, little bunny hips beginning to rock up to meet her kisses, your clit throbbing, desperate for her touch, even though your silly little brain is not yet registering what is going on. You are simply seeking pleasure without even knowing it, body working without your nervous system working to tell it what to do.

“Mama…” You whine ever so softly, your voice hoarse from sleep and small enough that Wanda can barely hear you.

“Shh, zaya… it’s alright. Mama’s just going to help you sleep, hmm?” Wanda muses gently, her fingers lightly running through your folds, teasing you so that your back lifts from the bed, so that you’re basically dripping onto the sheets. She’d typically tell you to speak up, that you’re not being loud enough for mommy to hear your pretty moans, but she’s all too swept up in just how sweet you sound now, your vocabulary reduced only to her title.

Wanda hums softly, turning her head to press a few more sloppy kisses to your thighs as one of her fingers dips inside of you. She moans all too loudly as this happens, as she curves her finger up into you, all too pleased at just how tight you are for her. Wanda smiles into the flesh at your thigh, licking your soft skin and gently sucking on it to leave her favored dark patches there, the last of which she left still faintly staining your skin. As you’re definitely wet enough for her, she slides in a second finger with ease, and your hips begin to whine up and down against them, desperately seeking her pleasure.

“Mommy…” You try, your eyes slowly beginning to open but you’re still drowsy with sleepiness, brain so foggy from your long day that you can’t really fight awake just yet. Your body’s movements slow as Wanda begins to take over, pinning your hips down to the bed without too much force, the pumping of her fingers quickening their pace. She curls her fingers into your firm flesh, the sounds of her sliding so obscene, so pleasing to her own ears that she can’t help but moan in tandem with them, whispering gentle reminders of how sweet you are, how good you taste, how you’re mommy’s perfect girl.

And taste you she does, her tongue eagerly lapping up all of the wetness that spills from you. When her fingers move in such a speed that is entirely overwhelming, there comes a gush of liquid so intense that it wakes you up entirely, your hands whipping over your face as if to hide you from such embarrassment. Though, Wanda only seems to enjoy this mess that you’ve made, it only pushes her further into her dominant headspace. You’re just her messy little doll that can’t keep any control of herself, that needs to be cleaned up and tended to at any given moment. She loves it, wants more of it, pushes you even harder for it.

“’m sorry…” You whine out, your hands dropping to reveal your bright pink face, lower lip trapped between teeth to conceal your needy moans. Though it’s not much use, because the second that Wanda notices your attempt at maintaining any bit of modesty, her lips latch onto your clit, sending a streak of pleasure right up your spine, your back arching even more than it previously had. Her name flings from your lips a few times from this sudden uptick in sensation, filling your large bedroom with nothing but your whimpers and moans. Your fingers land in her perfectly curled hair, tugging on it gently as though she could possibly be any closer to you, despite the way her mouth is latched onto your cunt.

She would typically fuss at you for apologizing, that you should never feel sorry for something like this, that mommy likes you messy. But her mouth is so full of you now, so encumbered by your taste, that she cannot speak, does not want to.

Wanda’s goal is, unfortunately for you, always overstimulation. She loves to feel you throb below her, loves the way your pussy becomes bright pink and puffy and your pupils become blown out. She prefers her bunny over-fucked and out of breath, and this is just how she will get you ever time. Her fingers are simply merciless, even when she feels you suddenly tighten around her, feels the way your thighs begin to shake, your orgasm washing over you. She allows you to ride it out, yes, but does not cease when your back hits the bed, body convulsing ever so slightly. Even when your fingers fall limp in her hair, she does not give you a moment to recover. Though she does remove her fingers from your pussy, they are quickly replaced by her tongue, which greedily laps up every bit of liquid that spills from you. Wanda is impossibly thirsty for you— she always is— and such is incredibly evident from her diligence in licking up every single bit of you.

You whine her name as if you’re stuck on a loop, your body twitching with every bump of her nose to your overworked clit. It might seem like you are begging her for relief, for her to stop, you both know that could not possibly be further from what you want. You truly want her to fuck you again and again until you can’t walk, but your body is so very desperate for sleep. Your thighs are so sore already from the amount that you’ve walked today that they feel like pins and needles as they struggle to prop up around her head. Your tired little body is so exhausted, your brain becoming fuzzy all over again, your consciousness careening towards sleep once more. Though, Wanda will not allow this. She won’t let you sleep just yet, though her more caring instincts so want to allow you to doze off, you just taste so good on her tongue, your whines so precious to her ears that she wants to hear them as much as she can before she goes without them while you sleep for eight hours. She has to bank this memory deep within her mind, so that later, when you do fall asleep with your head on her chest and your arms wrapped around her waist, she will have something to remember while her hand slips down the front of her own pajamas.

It does not take long, with the older woman’s tongue dancing over your sensitive bundle of nerves, for you to cum for her once again. This time, you are much less dramatic with your trembling, instead you finally let your legs fall, and though it takes you a moment to recover, eventually your breathing settles.

Wanda cleans you up ever so gently, careful as to not further stimulate your delicate clit as she slides your panties on, then your favorite matching pajama set over top. She removes the duvet which you’ve made such a mess of, covering you instead with a clean blanket from the closet. She allows you to sleep for an hour or so, just until the sun has set outside— much earlier than she’d expected, and it makes her quite sleepy, too. But Wanda fights the urge to crawl up into bed with you, and instead makes you something to eat. She won’t let her angel wake up hungry in the middle of the night, that’s for certain. So, once she’s fixed you both a proper meal, she wakes you up ever so gently, fingers pushing back the hair that has stuck to your forehead with sweat, kissing your cheek to coax you awake.

You wake up a bit grumpy, begging her to let you sleep even more, but she refuses, tells you in the warmest of tones that you’ll ruin your sleep schedule, and that mommy doesn’t want to stay awake without her bunny keeping her company. You begrudgingly follow her to the kitchen, but as soon as you smell what she’s prepared, you perk right up.

“You are such a good girl for me, you know,” Wanda hums as she pulls you into her lap at the dinner table, lightly bouncing you on her knee, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your ears perk up ever so slightly at the words, a blush raising to your nose as you play with the button of her shirt.

“Really?” You giggle in return. Your memory of the moment is truly inexistent, your head was so fuzzy and sleepy that you weren’t really lucid enough to remember any of it. But you have the wet spot in your panties to remind you of just how good it felt, so you’ll take her word for it.

You eat as Wanda feeds you, smiling to her as she does, and you each share stories of your days. She pouts when you recount your tale of utter fatigue, of how many tables you’d waited in just an hour, of how some man asked you to refill his soda ten times! Wanda laughs a bit as she cleans up the table in record time before sweeping you back to your shared bathroom. You whine a little as she finally undresses from her work clothes, watching with wide eyes as she wiggles her hips to remove the skintight skirt from her hips. You hate that you’d been asleep for the majority of the time she’d been wearing it and will without a doubt beg her to wear the same outfit again soon.

Once she is dressed in a pretty lace nightgown of her own, she slips into bed beside you, whispering gentle compliments and encouragements into the dark room, stroking the fur of your ear, and you are out like a light in a heartbeat.

[thehistoriccemetery]

Bg3 Companions respond to: “I’m safe with you, right? You’re not gonna let anyone hurt me?”

Some comfort from our ladies: Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara (sorry to my fellow Jaheira lovers she didn’t make it into this one.)

Also I’m starting to write more full length fics so if anyone has a particular thing I’ve written they’d like to see more on, let me know!

You’re a strong leader and warrior, and you know that. But sometimes the past comes up stronger than you can handle and you think of all the times you needed a protector of your own. In the moonlight, you ask your companions for a bit of reassurance.

Shadowheart

“Of course,” She adjusts your position so she is looking you in the eyes. “Why? Is something the matter? Are you in danger?” Her face is full of worry and concern.

“No, it’s…” you trail off, unsure of how to explain the aching vulnerability in your chest. “Never mind, it was a stupid thing to say.”

You avoid her gaze, feeling a bit foolish for asking such a question. You try to tuck your head back against her chest, but before you can, she takes your face in her hands.

“I’m sorry no one protected you. I’m sorry they let you get hurt before you could stop it. You deserved so much better, but I’m here now. I will protect you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and she gently wipes them away with her thumb as they trail down your cheeks. You are so thankful for the miraculous way she can always say exactly what you need to hear.

“The gods really did bless me when they brought me you,” you said, swiping your own tears out of your eyes. “It’s hard to remember when we’ve gone through so much, but I’m so blessed to have you.”

Shadowheart pulls you back to her chest, letting you cry while she gently strokes your hair. If there is one thing she will not let go from her time with Shar, it is the importance of feeling the pain.

You will move through it and she will move through it with you, no matter how long it takes.

She looks up to the moon and says a silent prayer to her new lady. “Guide them through this grief with your light.”

Lae’zel

Lae’zel is terribly confused as soon as the words leave your mouth. You didn’t know she could raise a single eyebrow like that.

“Why would you need my protection?” She asks. “You are a fierce warrior. You are safe with you.”

You smile. It’s not exactly what you were looking for, but the sentiment is there.

“Are you injured? Feeling ill, perhaps? In this case, you have my sword until you heal. I may even be able find that sorry excuse for a cleric around here somewhere…” she rambles until you place a hand on her shoulder.

You explain that you are not physically wounded, and she need not worry. It’s the inside that feels a little broken right now, in your head.

When she pushes a blade to your throat you quickly clarify that it is NOT in a ceremorphosis kind of way.

She retracts the blade, grateful she does not have to kill you, but still confused. It’s not that she’s never experienced what you’re feeling before, but the act of asking for or receiving comfort is unfamiliar to her.

She still wants to help though, so you guide her to sit cross legged on the ground and you place your head in her lap.

You can’t help but giggle as she stares down at you with that confused look on her face. “This is helping?”

“Can you stroke my hair?” You ask, not having grown accustomed to the awkwardness of such direct words yet.

She places her hand in your hair, carefully stroking the top of your head.

It clearly doesn’t come natural to her, but her willingness to try answers all of your questions. No one is ever gonna hurt you again.

Karlach

Karlach pulls you to lay on her chest and wraps her arms around you tight. “You are always safe with me, ‘kay? Always. Not a soul will hurt you. Ever. Again.”

She knows of your past, the pain you carry, the people you’ve lost, how they haunt you. Even before she could hold you she’s been there, beside you for everything.

“We protect each other, remember? You’ve got my back and I’ve got yours.” She asks. You nod into her chest.

You recall all the times you’ve done the same for her. You know the far away look in her eyes, when she is forced to relive her hell terrors once more. Ever since the night Dammon fixed her engine you vowed she’d never wake up from a nightmare anywhere but your arms.

“And what a hell of a team we make,” you chuckle. “Remember that time you ripped that bugbear’s fucking arm off after he nicked me with his mace?” You laugh, lightening the mood with a memory.

Karlach laughed as well. “And it was while I was still burning hot as the hells so the fucker’s fur lit up like a torch.” She was laughing so hard she could hardly finish the sentence.

“And he took out a good chunk of goblins when he went a runnin’,” you rolled off of her, swinging your arms above your head and doing your best bugbear-on-fire impression.

The two of spent the rest of the evening roaring with laughter about your favorite memories and stories. Only stopping when Karlach’s eyes began to feel heavy and the laughter turned into yawns.

“If I have to fight every demon in hell, then I’ll run out of blood to bleed before I lose you.”* You whisper before kissing her forehead and snuggling back up to drift off to sleep.

*(lyric from Penelope Scott’s “Over the Moon”)

Minthara

A look of disgust flashed across her face. Such a blatant display of vulnerability was unfamiliar to her and not befitting.

But when she looked at you, she softened ever so slightly. It was as if she was looking at you how you were when it all happened. She was looking at a hurt child.

Unfortunately for you, vulnerability wasn’t befitting of child in her eyes either.

“Do not ask such foolish questions,” She says passively. “You have not been threatened, have you?”

You shake your head sheepishly. “No, I was just feeling… I don’t know… weak, I guess.”

Minthara drops whatever she was working on before and approaches you, adjusting your body and posture from the droopy form that walked into her tent.

When she has you standing tall with your chest puffed out she scrunches her face into a look even more stern and scary, then motions for you to do the same.

Once you’re in position, she walks around you, admiring you in a slow circle. “Hmm…” she tuts, “you do not look weak. You look rather strong. Like you could lead six…” she pauses, looking for the right word, “hooligans around the better half of Faerûn.”

You can’t suppress the smile that grows on your face, and as she completes her circle, you can see she is smiling too.

But, just to be clear, she is currently committing atrocities on the last person to look at you funny. She would burn down the house of Baenre itself if it meant keeping you safe.

[megalony]

Emergency Situation

This is a new Evan Buckley imagine, requested by the lovely @neonkiwi I hope this is what you were looking for and that everybody likes it. I might do a follow up part if anybody is interested. Feedback is always amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts

911 Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n) becomes ill while on shift, she suddenly deteriorates but the reason why is… surprising.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shudder jolted through (Y/n) when a pair of tense arms suddenly deadlocked around her waist and reeled her off her feet. Her heels pressed down into the floor and her head fell back onto Evan's shoulder when he moulded his chest up against her back and buried his face in her neck.

She could feel him smiling into her skin and his arms crossed over her stomach so his hands could grip her hips and gently shimmy her from side to side.

He nuzzled his nose into her neck and bit down enough to make her gasp. But Evan's eyes widened and his smile shrunk when he felt (Y/n)'s hands deadlock around his forearms and she wobbled and lost her balance in front of him. He couldn't count the times he had grabbed her from behind like this and wrapped around her like a blanket and she never usually lost her footing.

"Did I scare you?" He whispered quietly against her cheek as he pressed a sloppy kiss there and straightened them both up, staying wrapped around her. He kissed her cheek again and moved to kiss her temple but he let his lips linger against her forehead for a few seconds. "You okay? You're starting to burn up."

He could feel her temple was flushed and she was starting to sweat which was unusual since they had been in the station for the last hour and it was full of air-conditioning.

"I think I'm getting sick, my stomach's in knots." (Y/n) turned her head and let her face tuck into Evan's exposed neck, nudging his collar out the way so she could press an open-mouthed kiss there.

Her fingers dug down tightly into Evan's arms to steady herself and to keep him holding her as tightly as he was. The pressure his arms were applying into her waist and stomach was comforting and helpful when her abdomen felt like it was twisting itself up into knots.

At first, (Y/n) thought she was getting cramps but throughout the night she hadn't felt well and now she felt sick. She was coming down with a bug. Hen had been off sick last week after Denny got sick, and then Eddie hadn't been feeling great the past few days. Now it seemed to be (Y/n)'s turn. She prayed she wouldn't pass it onto Evan, he wasn't good with being ill. He was better being the carer, not the patient.

"Oh, baby." He mused quietly against her temple, brushing his cheek against her forehead while he gently swayed them both from side to side, glad no one else was in the corridor at the moment. He just so happened to leave the locker room and see his wife walking ahead down the corridor. Evan would take any opportunity he could get during shifts to snatch a kiss from (Y/n) because they had to be professional when in front of everyone else.

They didn't dare risk being anything but professional in case someone said something and their shifts got split up. Bobby was lenient enough to let them work together even though they were married.

Evan sighed into her hair and fought the urge to roll his eyes when the bell sounded.

"Are you okay to head out? If you tell Cap he'll let you hang back at the station."

"No, I'm good."

Tilting her head back, (Y/n) let go of Evan's arm so she could cup his freshly shaved jaw and reel him down for a kiss. She sunk her teeth into hie bottom lip just to feel him groan into her mouth when she had to untangle herself from him. They had to go get ready.

Evan ducked forward and pounced, clamping his fingers down on (Y/n)'s hips when she started to walk away. He followed behind her, kissing the back of her neck and giving her hips a wiggle before he bypassed her and moved towards the lockers.

Evan slung on his jacket, grabbed his helmet and turned to (Y/n) as she did the same. With them both sharing the same last name, they had to have their first initials printed on their jackets. Their names were on their jackets and helmets for security, if they got injured, lost or unconscious, people would know who they were. So their initials needed to be added for safety reasons so they didn't get mixed up.

(Y/n) jiggled her shoulders to rid herself of the shiver building up in her back that went right down to her toes. She followed after Chimney towards the truck but she pressed her lips into a straight line when she climbed up the first step and suddenly felt Evan's hand swat her bum. She didn't have to turn round to know he was grinning. No one else had seen or heard the light touch, thankfully.

(Y/n) began to regret going on this call the moment she sat down because she seemed to melt into her seat and the thought of getting back up seemed impossible.

She pulled a headset over her ears and slouched down, moving her seatbelt a bit lower so she could shift to the right and slump her head onto Evan's shoulder. Deep breaths made her feel a little better but her stomach was knotting up again and (Y/n) wondered if she might throw up soon. She hoped not. Each bump the truck rolled over had her stomach churning and every sharp corner spun her head.

Her eyes fell closed and she stayed wedged up against Evan's arm as he moved his hand to squeeze her thigh. Evan turned his head to the left and perched his chin on top of her head while he looked out the window a the passing scenery.

When the truck made a harsh break, (Y/n) kicked her foot out and pressed the heel of her boot into the chair opposite to steady herself and her face wedged into Evan's arm to stop herself from groaning.

(Y/n) ignored the small chatter through the headphones and focused on the feeling of Evan's fingers rubbing circles into her inner thigh.

They were all glad to tear off their headphones when the truck rolled to a steady stop at their newest call out scene. There was already another unit here but they needed back up to help evacuate the building and tend to anyone with injuries.

She grabbed her helmet and followed out the truck, the last in the line to climb down but as soon as the temperature change and the gravity shift hit her, (Y/n) felt uneasy. Her hands reached out in front of her and gripped Evan's shoulders tightly as she followed him down the truck and onto solid ground. As soon as her feet touched the ground, (Y/n) buried her face in Evan's back and tried to stop her stomach from tightening up.

"Everything okay baby?" He whispered softly and his head turned to look down at her. He could feel her tight grip on his shoulders and he could sense how close she was standing to him like she was trying to merge herself into his back.

"Just a wobble,"

"You sure?"

(Y/n) nodded and batted her eyes up at him when she moved to stand at his side rather than behind him but she couldn't bring herself to smile, not yet. She could feel the adrenaline pounding through her blood from arriving on scene but it wasn't enough to rid her chest of the tightening feeling or relieve her tense stomach.

She forced herself to let go of his arm even though she didn't want to, and secured her helmet and gloves. She could feel her stomach knotting but one of the many knots started to ease when Evan reached his arm out so it crossed in front of her chest and his hand clamped down on her left hip securely. He didn't move an inch away from her as they stood lined up, waiting for their orders. And although Evan stayed facing forwards, (Y/n) could feel his head turning and his gaze drifting down to her every now and then.

"Okay, Buck, Eddie, I want you round the back with the 211 to evacuate. Chimney you go with me through the front to make sure everyone gets out. And (Y/n)," Bobby's gaze lingered on her for a few seconds and his eyes narrowed. He could either see or just sense tat she wasn't at one hundred percent today. "Go with Hen, help check everyone over and assist medics."

(Y/n) didn't question it, she knew not to and deep down she was relieved to have an easier task than running in blind to get everyone out. She wouldn't be quick enough today and she didn't hold enough strength to pull anyone out and run back in for a second go. Helping the wounded was a much easier job for (Y/n), it was automatic to tend to people and help with their injuries whereas Buck and Eddie were far better suited to run into the burning buildings and find ways to get out.

The call out lasted an hour and a half and by the end, (Y/n) felt broken.

She was glad it was over. She wanted to go back to the station and collapse down in a chair. She never usually needed to recharge her batteries like this but today, she felt drained down to ten percent.

Patching the injured up had been an easier task than running in and out the burning building but now (Y/n) was flagging. She shouldn't feel this breathless, shaky and dizzy from walking around tending to the wounded.

With all the equipment packed up in the medic bag, (Y/n) hoisted it up on her shoulder and made a slow walk away from the make-shift tents, over towards the fire trucks that felt like they were a mile away.

She barely got three feet from the tents before it felt like her lungs were filling up with stones and all the air was starting to drain out of them like they had a leak. And when her stomach started to clench, (Y/n) had no choice but to drop the medic bag down to her side and hunch forward to crease her stomach and try to relieve the tension.

Her body started to burn up so much that (Y/n) dropped the bag at her feet and threw her helmet down beside it. She ripped open her jacket and leaned forward with her hands braced on her knees and her chin tilted down into the top of her chest. She willed the urge to be sick to dissipate. She didn't need to stand in front of everyone and throw up; she would embarrass herself.

Evan's lips curved into a frown and his brow creased when he looked over at his wife. He took off his helmet and rattled his fingers through his knotted curls and squinted over at his girl. She looked like she was about to throw up.

When he realised she was wobbling and her knees suddenly caved, Evan darted into a sprint to grab her.

"Baby- woah, woah hey I got you." His arms bolted around her waist and he reeled her into his chest. His chin tucked down into his chest to look at her properly as she curled her hands around his biceps to stay upright.

"I- just dizzy."

"You're not dizzy, you're sick baby girl."

(Y/n) shivered and leaned forward to tuck her face into his jacket, breathing in the combination of Evan's scent and the smoke clinging to his clothes.

"No, I'm o-okay." The sickness was starting to wear off the longer Evan held her upright and took her weight for her. She could feel herself calming down already, it was just her stomach knotting itself up. Maybe she had a stomach infection rather than a sickness bug.

"Of course you are, and I'm five foot one. Come on, back in the truck." Evan kissed the top of her head before he circled his arm around her waist and pinned her into his side to keep her up on her feet. His other hand moved to cup her hip and he started walking back towards the truck. He would come back and grab her gear once he'd gotten her sat down and calmed down in the fire truck.

(Y/n) reached up to grab the door handle but she was grateful Evan just held her hips and effortlessly hoisted her up in the air. He lifted her up and moved her inside the truck as if she weighed nothing at all.

"Baby-"

"Don't baby me. If you have another wobble or you throw up, you're going home. Got it?"

Rolling her lips together, (Y/n) nodded and looked down at her hands that she locked together on her lap. If it was the other way around she knew she would be exactly the same with Evan and he only had her best interests at heart.

***

She was going to be sick.

The burning in her stomach turned into an intensifying ache in her abdomen and each and every muscle was contorting and twisting inside her in a way which felt impossible. The agonising twist of her muscles stopped her from standing up straight but she tried her best to look as okay and as normal as possible.

One arm bound around her stomach and her other hand gripped the metal banister as she almost slipped down the stairs. She needed to get to the toilets behind the shower room before she threw up in front of everyone.

Evan had been right. She should have told Bobby the moment they got back to the station that she felt sick and needed to take the rest of the shift off. But she didn't. Her pride stopped her from asking for help or leniency and because she hadn't been sick or in immense pain, Evan didn't push her to go home.

(Y/n) should have gone home.

When she reached the corridor, (Y/n) slumped forward until her chest was almost pressed down into her thighs. Tears burned in her eyes and as soon as she reached the toilets, (Y/n) crouched down and bound her arms around her waist. Her body hunched up into a ball shape and she stumbled into a cubicle, crashing down to her knees in front of the toilet just in time to throw up.

The static in her ears got worse until it was deafening white noise and she began to shake despite the cold air in the bathroom.

God, it had been a long time since she had a sickness bug this bad. The last time, (Y/n) had a stomach infection and couldn't eat anything for three days. It had kept her up at night, striking her with pain every time she tossed and turned but that was still different to this. That had been her stomach, this pain was in her abdomen.

Pushing up, (Y/n) flushed the toilet and turned around to sit down on the toilet with her knees spread apart and her elbows on her knees. Her hands smothered her face and she dropped her head down between her thighs to relieve the blood swelling up in her head and making her feel dizzy.

Tears soaked into her palms and small hiccups bubbled past her lips when the pain only got worse and made her limbs coil inwards.

Something was wrong.

Something was drastically wrong, this couldn't be a normal sickness bug or an infection or a problem like IBS. This had to be different, (Y/n) had never been in this much agony before in her life.

Maybe she was having a hernia. Maybe her intestines were twisting and cutting off blood supply to part of her intestine and she would need surgery to fix the issue. Maybe something was rupturing like her spleen or her appendix. It had to be something drastic and that meant (Y/n) needed to tell someone. She needed Evan. She wanted her husband. He would know what to do and how to make everything better.

When the cramping, throbbing pain dulled down, (Y/n) did her best to take a few deep breaths to try and pull herself together. She had to go and find Evan and talk to him.

Her hands moved to run up and down her trousers as she willed herself to stand up. The sooner she moved, the sooner she could get some advice and go get help for whatever ailment she now had.

"Oh God!" A burning sob bubbled past her wet lips and both her hands moved to her stomach when a horrendous pain made her double over.

She struggled for breaths, gasping and choking as her body slumped to the left and her head pressed into the plastic wall of the cubicle. Her knees spread wide into each wall and her hands imbedded into her stomach like she was trying to merge them through her skin to grab her organs.

Her knees wavered and struggled to hold her weight when she pushed up to undo her belt. She raked her trousers and underwear down but her vision started to blurr and sparkle with white dots when she looked down at her underwear and slumped herself to sit back down. That wasn't right. That was very, very wrong.

Why was there blood and fluids in her underwear?

The moment her hand gingerly moved between her thighs, her arms recoiled and (Y/n) braced herself on the wall as she cried out.

"No! No, no." This wasn't happening to her. She was having an out of body experience. She was seeing this happen to someone else, not her. This was a nightmare, a bad dream. A horrible vision of someone else's life. None of this was happening to (Y/n). It couldn't be.

Both her hands moved to smother her mouth and nose to the point she wasn't breathing when the toilet door opened.

Her trembling fingers dug into her cheeks enough to scratch her skin and her trembling body started to shake the cubicle wall along with her jittering knees that were bashing into the walls. She could barely feel each little breath that left her lips but she heard the gasping hiccup she let out when she tried to breathe deeply. It was hard to control her cries and be deathly silent when her body was going into shock.

She leaned back and slammed her elbows into her waist when a light knocking rapped on the door.

"Everything okay in there?"

It was Hen.

This was not a state (Y/n) wanted any of her coworkers to see her in. She didn't really want Evan to see her like this either, but he was the only person she would allow to witness and help her in this state. She needed help. She knew she needed help and Hen could get Evan so he could be the one to help her.

(Y/n) struggled to try and take another deep, rumbling breath and she held it in her lungs, waiting out the snapping pain in her abdomen before she tried to speak.

"Can y-you g… get Evan for me? I'm n… not well." There was no other way to put it and (Y/n) didn't want Hen panicking and trying to open the door to help. She didn't want anyone's help even if she knew she needed it. She needed Hen to think she was being sick so no one would crowd around the bathroom and try to listen in and bustle their way in to help her.

"Sure, can I do anything to help you? Maybe give you an examin-" Hen was a trained paramedic, she could go get her bag and check (Y/n)'s vitals and see if she could do anything to help her.

"Evan. Please."

"Okay, I'll go fetch him." The worry was evident in her voice but as soon as she left the room, (Y/n) let out a sob and crumpled her chest over onto her knees. Her arms bound around her lower waist and she doubled over, tucking her head down to smother her cries and soak up her tears and runny nose.

Her stomach was on fire, it felt like her intestines were being twisted and pulled down and her chest was burning like she was on fire on the inside. All she wanted to do was curl up as small as possible and pass out to make everything stop. She wanted to wake up at home in bed with Evan and have this be a bad dream or a distant memory from weeks ago that she didn't have to remember.

She heard the door open again and for a second, she froze, trying to stop herself crying and control the shaking just in case more people were coming in. But she only heard one familiar set of footsteps. One set of heavy clad boots that carried a lot of weight when they bashed into the floor. It was only Evan who came in and the door shut behind him. She was safe.

"Baby? Baby it's me. Hen said you're not feeling well." Evan moved towards the only closed cubicle and pressed his left arm against the door while his right hand lightly tapped on the door to let her know it was him. "Can you open the door for me baby girl?"

(Y/n) stretched an arm out and pulled the bolt across before she coiled back in on herself. Her arms stayed around her waist and she tucked her face down into her knees so she didn't have to see her husband's worried, panicked gaze and feel embarrassed and stupid.

Evan rolled his lips together and took a deep breath when his eyes set on his wife. Panic rolled through him in waves that he couldn't control. He wasn't sure what to do or where exactly to touch her but he knew there was very little he could do if they were both in this tiny cubicle with (Y/n) folded up like a piece of paper.

He took two steps forward and crouched down on his knees in front of her. His hands reached out and gently cupped her exposed thighs while he kissed the top of her head.

"Baby… can you talk to me, hm? What's going on?"

His hands started to move in deep circles into her thighs but he felt worse the longer (Y/n) kept crying. He could hear her panicked breaths running away without her and she was bubbling and gasping and trembling all at once.

"Alright, sit up for me," His hands moved to her shoulders and he slowly eased her up and straightened up in front of her so they were level. "That's better. Now I need you to tell me what's going on. You're clearly in agony, baby, can you tell me where the pain is?"

Evan cupped (Y/n)'s chin between his thumb and finger and kept her head level with his so she could look at him.

He could see the pain written across her face and shown in her cries and trembling body, but that wasn't enough. Evan couldn't begin to help if he didn't know why she was suddenly in agony, where the pain was coming from and why it was happening.

He looked down when (Y/n) pressed both her hands into her abdomen and pushed so hard he fretted she was going to bruise herself. But when Evan glanced his eyes down, he gulped when he looked at her underwear. Blood. Something told him this wasn't the usual period cramps, he'd never seen (Y/n) in agony like this before and she would of told him if it was her period causing the problem. And if it wasn't, why was she bleeding?

His hand rubbed across his jaw and down his neck in anxious habit before he sighed.

"I'm gonna move you just a little, okay? I need to get you out of here because we both don't fit. Take some deep breaths for me baby girl."

With his arms wound around her waist as carefully as he could and (Y/n)'s head burrowed into his neck and her hands on his shoulders, Evan slowly moved onto his feet and stood up. He held her tight and slowly shuffled backwards until he was out of the cubicle and (Y/n) was coiled into his chest.

(Y/n) dug her nails into his shoulders when he turned them both around and slowly lowered her down onto the tiled floor before he moved to kneel beside her.

"Can I take a look?" Evan motioned his hand towards (Y/n)'s stomach, he was getting nowhere asking her questions when she seemed to be in too much shock to cooperate with him.

When she nodded, Evan carefully peeled her hands off her stomach and lifted up her shirt. He pressed the base of his hands around her tummy and down near her hips to try and feel for any lump or abnormality without applying too much pressure to hurt her. He didn't like the reaction he got; flinches, whimpers and then a bursting cry when he pressed below her belly button.

Evan suddenly froze when (Y/n) screamed. She slumped forward, latched both her hands around his left arm and pulled it towards her chest. Her temple pressed deeply into his shoulder and her knees pulled up as she screamed into his shirt and made his body come over in shivers.

"What? Baby what's wrong- what did I do?"

"Baby."

"What?"

Clamping her lips together, (Y/n) pulled on Evan's hand and moved his palm between her thighs. She could see the confusion written on his face when his brows narrowed and his lips parted slightly in a way that showed he didn't understand what she was trying to show or tell him. She tugged on his hand until he finally took a deep breath and shuffled round to kneel between her legs.

His hands were gentle when they clamped around her thighs and parted her knees to the side but (Y/n) could see all the colour fading from his face until he was left a pale grey.

"Oh fuck… Oh- baby how the Hell are you in labour?!" Evan dug his fingers down into (Y/n)'s thighs until he was leaving indents and bruises in his wake.

How could she be in labour?

It wasn't possible. (Y/n) couldn't be pregnant. She didn't look pregnant, she didn't have a raised stomach or a bump or any abdominal movement to suggest she was having a baby. She'd had no more back pain than the rest of the team after a horrid shift. She didn't have morning sickness a few months ago. No swollen ankles, no cravings or obvious changes.

If she was in labour now that meant that she had been working when she should have been resting. She had been putting herself- and a baby, in harms way by continuing to be a firefighter. She had been around smoke, running in and out of fires, carrying heavy equipment, helping move people on back boards and going up the ladder. Everything she should have stayed away from she had been doing.

When (Y/n) started to cry, Evan leaned down and kissed her knee and tried to rub his hands along her thighs. He didn't mean to shout or make her think he was angry with her. It wasn't as if she had been hiding the pregnancy from him and the rest of the team.

"I'm gonna go grab Hen and get a med bag-"

"No- oow, Evan don't leave me!" (Y/n) latched her fingers around his wrist and pulled him back as she leaned forward and screamed. Something was happening. He couldn't leave her, not for a minute, not even for a second. He had to stay with her.

"Okay, shh hey I'm right here…" He glanced around before a light bulb seemed to flicker and he reached around the the radio strapped on his belt. "Someone bring me a medic bag to the toilets. Now! I've got an emergency back here."

Evan leaned down and looked down between (Y/n)'s thighs before he sat up on his heels and started to unbutton his shirt. He slipped it off his arms and laid the shirt over his knees, leaving him in his trousers and vest.

"Baby, you need to push for me, if this really is a baby it's coming now."

His hands continued to rub up and down (Y/n)'s knees while he tucked his chest down near his knees. He had delivered a few babies on the job alongside Bobby over the years, but never one where a woman didn't know she was pregnant. And this wasn't just anyone or just a colleague at the station. This was Evan's wife. He was going to be a dad and he was only just finding out on the day his wife was giving birth.

No one was going to believe this.

(Y/n) leaned her shoulders up against the cubicle behind her and dug her nails into the back of her thighs as she cried out and screamed. Tears drenched her face and a hoarse scream clawed at the back of her throat.

"Buck? What's going… on?" Unease and confusion tore through Hen when she pushed open the toilet door and held her breath when she looked over at the couple. they were sat in the middle of the floor with (Y/n) slumped up against the cubicle and Evan knelt between her legs with his shirt in his hands.

"Got any clamps in that bag?"

"Any… what are you doing?"

"She's having a baby so find some fucking clamps and help me!"

A quiet mutter of 'oh my God' blurted past Hen's before she slumped down to her knees next to Evan and started rummaging through her bag. Every few seconds, she lifted her head and leaned to look over Evan's arm just to check that this wasn't some prank. Or that Evan hadn't got this drastically wrong and was preparing for an entirely wrong situation.

"Head's out… come on, one more push then you're done baby." Evan shuffled his shirt a bit higher over his hands that were shaking when he curled them around his baby.

His baby. God, he was going to be a dad. How was he going to be a dad when they weren't prepared for this at all? They had nothing ready for a baby, not even a single onesie. What were they going to do?

"Well done! Look at that, a little girl," Hen pressed her fingers to (Y/n)'s wrist and checked her pulse while her other hand rubbed up and down her arm to try and keep her calm.

Evan's arms began to tremble as he ran his hand up and down the newborn's back until a little string of whimpers and cries left her ruby red lips. He swaddled his shirt around her and brushed his face against his shoulder to clear away the tears so he could see her properly.

He had a daughter.

He waited patiently for Hen to put two clamps onto the cord and cut it before he leaned between (Y/n)'s legs and carefully eased their girl onto (Y/n)'s chest. When (Y/n) curled her shaking hands over their baby's back, Evan held her wrists and smoothed his thumbs up and down her skin to try and keep her calm because he could see she was going into shock.

"You really had no idea?"

"Do you think we'd of had her on shift if we knew?" Evan sassed back with an air of anger about his words.

Neither of them would be on shift right now if they knew (Y/n) was nearly nine months pregnant. (Y/n) wouldn't have been on full duty if she knew and she would of been on maternity leave by now if they had some prior knowledge about their daughter coming into the world.

"What's the emergency in here- oh- oh Hell. Eddie get a gurney, Chim fire up the ambulance." Bobby clamped one hand down on his hip and ran the other up and down his face when he looked over at the three of them on the floor with a newborn crying between them.

"Placenta is in tact but you're bleeding a bit, I'll give you something to clot your blood." Hen rummaged around in her bag when she noticed a small puddle of blood forming on the floor between (Y/n)'s thighs. At least the placenta was all together. The last thing they needed with a surprise baby was an operation to remove a broken part of placenta.

"Evan…"

Moving her arms, (Y/n) nudged their girl towards him when the shaking got worse and she felt like she was going to be sick. A baby on her chest was a sudden, comforting weight but when she felt sick, it was also a suffocating feeling.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the cubicle, pulling her arms into her chest when Evan gently eased their daughter into his arms. She coiled her arms tightly together to try and make the shaking subside but she was grateful when she felt Bobby kneel down on her other side. (Y/n) was grateful when Bobby held her hand, he didn't mind the shaking or her tight grip and he rubbed his free hand up and down her shoulder.

"Well this is one Hell of a surprise,"

"We're gonna need some time off," Evan rolled his lips together, supressing his smile when he looked down at the new bundle in his arms. He would need some emergency annual leave now. He didn't have the time to put in a request four weeks in advance and wait for approval.

Evan could feel a headache forming behind his eyes already at the thought of having to go and buy everything. Right now. Today. Or tomorrow at the very least. They needed everything from clothes to a crib and bottles and nappies and Evan was going lightheaded from the thought.

"Do you know how much paperwork I'll have to do now?" His smile showed he was only jesting.

Evan needed time off now and (Y/n) was going to be off work for a few months, starting from today. Bobby was going to have to find a replacement for (Y/n) while she was on maternity leave. He would need to do a report to the chief to explain why she needed the time off so suddenly and explain this situation and how they came to have a birth in the station.

It would be investigated to make sure (Y/n) hadn't kept this a secret or that Bobby hadn't put her in danger and forced her to work through her pregnancy since he hadn't given any papers to say one of his team was pregnant.

"No one's going to believe this… I've got to ring Maddie- oh God, and my parents." No one was going to believe Evan when he told them he now had a daughter. Not that he was going to have a daughter or that (Y/n) was pregnant, but that she had given birth,

He was going to have to explain to Maddie that she now had a niece and get Maddie to help explain to their parents that their first grandchild had been a wild surprise.

"Oh my God what happened in here?!"