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burymagdalene · 17 days ago

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Crazy Little Thing Cold Love - S. Reid x Reader

Where the fierce cold brought by their holiday with the team to a ski lodge leads reader and Spencer to seek warmth in more ways than one in their room. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: Fluff and Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: softdom!Spence, fingersucking, dry humping, lots of messy kissing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, piv sex, overstimulation (I can’t help it), praise, fluff, of course, they love each other big time! wc: 6.1k. a/n: I genuinely did not think more than 20 people would read my last (first) fic, I was smiling ear to ear and stalked everyone who liked it basically. I hope this isn’t too long. I don’t know what the fic length sweet spot is. Anyway, I was imagining our pretty boy in the Alaska episode 5x21 while writing this. MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL

Despite not knowing how to ski, when Spencer invited you to join him and his team for a quick holiday to a ski lodge in Colorado, you nearly melted in excitement.

You’re over at Spencer’s apartment, bag readily in hand, watching him try to find outfits for this occasion. “Well.. I’m not going to be skiing, so I think regular clothes will be fine, hm?”

“Just bring a couple sweaters or something, that’s what I did. And a swimsuit.” You comment as you lay on your stomach on his bed, scrolling through your phone. Spencer takes his head out of his closet to spin and look at you.

“I didn’t even think about that. Of course. Thank you.” He mumbles and walks to his dresser, unsure if he even has swim trunks here. In his bottom drawer he digs through ridiculous ties and socks he’s forgotten about and begrudgingly finds the only swim trunks he had since highschool.

You scoot your body towards the end of his bed, leaning your head over to look at the way-too-short purple swim trunks he’s holding up with an unmistakably gloom look on his face. “Oh… you have to try those on. Right now.” You request through giggles.

Spencer stands up slowly placing the trunks in front of the trousers on his legs to see how the size difference from a pre-pubescent Spencer contrasts to now. How badly he’s about to be humiliated in front of his coworkers.

It’s nothing too horrifying, just blatantly un-Spencer in a way that has you both laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Seeing your boyfriend in short shorts has yet to occur! Regardless, Spencer slips off his slacks and pulls the shorts over his legs, jumping to put pants on for the first time in his life.

Spencer does not look bad. The shorts are too high up, he has probably grown about 6 inches since he picked these out. The tag is still on, he’s never even worn them. They sit nicely fitted on his upper thighs and he has his hands covering his face laughing as he shows you. In an over exaggerated manly voice you laugh out a “do a little spin for me hot stuff” at a groaning Spencer.

“Babe,” Spencer laughs “I cannot be seen in these. In front of my highly respected team as well. In front of… Morgan.” He begins to take them off and throws them into his duffle bag anyway.

“Noooo you gotta. Plus it’ll probably be just the two of us in the hot tub or whatever at a time. We’re not all going to be sitting in it together. At least I hope not…” You giggle a bit at the image. You have to give Spencer props though, him a few years ago would’ve cancelled his RSVP or purposefully left the swimsuit at home leaving him to a trip of staying in a random log cabin reading.

It’s not for a case, so the team does not have access to their own plane, making it so that you and Spencer are doomed to wake up at 5am to meet everybody at the airport. You give out multiple sleepy sidehugs, unable to believe how equipped everyone is at waking up at unbearable hours. With this though you are able to sleep through the flight from D.C. to Colorado just fine using Spencer as your pillow.

The ski lodge made you gasp when you arrived. Snow that was not present in D.C. covered every inch of the area; two levels of wooden panels lead to a huge snow slope behind the lodge. Through many “ooh’s” and “aah’s” it was finally revealed that only Rossi, Hotch, and JJ knew how to ski. Though, Emily and Morgan were equally as interested in learning from the best. This left you, Garcia, and Spencer to inside activities; watching your friends ski, groaning at lack of cell service (Garcia), reading, and the wonderfully heated pool and hottub that rested on the porch overlooking the slope. This, of course, made everyone squeal.

Rooms were doubled up and you and Spencer unpacked your bags chatting with Morgan who was leaning against the doorway regarding ski tricks.

“If you’re so uncoordinated and haven't touched a slope in your life, why would you care about how skiing can aid astronauts mobility?” Morgan questioned Spencer's rambling about astronauts who have experience with skiing and had an easier time walking on the moon.

“Well I’m not walking on the moon anytime soon either I just think it’s fascinating that cross country skiing-”

“What is that?” Morgan interrupts Spencer when a sweater covering his trunks in his bag gets put away, revealing the tiny purple fabric. You start giggling as Spencer sighs. Morgan walks into the room and picks them up from his bag. “What does this sweet girl have you wearing for her, Reid?” He teases.

Spencer definitely grabs them from his hands “Nothing! I got them when I was in highschool, I don’t go swimming a lot.” He sighs and looks down at you shaking his head as if to say “what did I say?” without speaking.

Morgan relents seeing Spencer's face redden a bit. “Ah, pretty boy, well, this look might be good for you, I can’t wait.” He exits laughing after ruffling Spencer's hair.

Spencer plops down on the bed next to you, scooping you in his arms. “This better be the most heavenly hot tub I’ll ever experience…” he sighs into your neck. You wrap your arms around him too, running your nails softly over his back and whisper back “Oh stop. You deserve a break, it will be.”

Later that day after playing a few rounds of Spades, everyone decides it's time to face the cold, put on gear and ski. Or watch them from the patio. It’s amusing even though you have no concept of how they’re going down with such elegance. It almost looks too easy for them. You have two sweaters on and a ski coat. Apparently, coming out with one sweater and a coat was so offensive to Spencer that he made you tack on another layer. “You’re the coldest person I know, please add another, baby”. Spencer, who was bundled up himself, pleaded as you spun around on your heels to redress yourself without protest because you know he’s right.

With your chin tucked into your hands, pressed between Penelope and Spencer, you all take on the roles of pseudo-Olympic commentators to pass the time. The horrible butchered transatlantic accent coming from you all worsened by the warmed eggnog held between cold palms. Spencer eagerly grins as he sees Morgan stumble a bit in his boots, “Yikes, not a good start for Morgan, whose first Olympics is this year. Now wait, wait, it is down to the wire but…YES, it looks like Morgan has gone for the gold and succeeded. Such a momentous moment in the young athletes career-”

Penelope slaps Spencer's arm, doubled over laughing at the fake news anchor voice he has adapted for this role he has put on. “Stop, stop, he’s going to get mad at you!” You all wipe the smiles off your faces and put on fake serious ones as Morgan trudges back up the slope, looking more suspicious than if you had just kept laughing. He shakes his head in disappointment towards the three of you.

All sort of tipsy and numb from the cold decide to go back inside. The rigorous ski activities today coupled with the early morning, causes the rest of the team to head to bed early. You and Spencer run towards your room at the same time, pushing past each other in the door frame as you try to stumble into warmth.

You slide your coat off and plummet to the ground to turn on the space heater with a speed as though it was a bomb you had 3 seconds left to disarm. You put your hands near it to warm them, looking up from the floor to Spencer who is smiling down at you from the bed. He silently motions with his head for you to sit over by him.

Whining and pulling yourself away from the heater, you get up and stand between Spencer's slightly open legs. He places his arms behind him and slouches back on his palms to get a better look at your face from where you’re standing. He tilts his head innocently to the side and squints at you. “Is somebody too cold? I would’ve never guessed that…”

Scoffing and pulling your arms around yourself to conserve heat you mumble back “Noooo… I mean. Just my hands. Hah, they feel like they’re made out of molasses.” Spencer gives a mocking sort of pitied smile up at you, which you ignore by the good graces in your heart. He shifts his weight back onto one hand and slips one of his chilled palms up the front of your sweater to your waist. You wince at the juxtaposition between your flushed skin under your layers and his icy hand.

You grab his wrist from under your sweater with an icier hand. “Don’t… torture me.” You beg at him. He furrows his eyes together and pouts, as if the idea of removing his hand from the curve of your waist would drain all the blood from his veins. Spencer hums and takes it off anyway, sitting up straight and taking both of your wrists into his hands, placing them together so he can cover your hands with his, moving back and forth to spark some friction into them.

The heat starts quickly from your fingertips to your wrists and you hum in content. Spencer whispers a “Yeah, you’re okay,” in response. “Your hands are freezing, I’m sorry angel.” Very malleable from the sweet heat you’re finally getting, Spencer continues to move your hands so that your palms are facing his face now. He kisses your fingertips softly, the warmth from his mouth makes you let out an almost silent moan.

“S’that nice?” He looks up into your eyes, you still standing there like if you moved all the heat you’ve accumulated on this spot of the floor would vanish. You nod breathlessly. Spencer smiles at your response, not wanting to tease you further, preferring the flush in your cheeks his warmth is supplying you over his taunting. He begins to press more soft, slow kisses over your fingertips, moving your hands at his will by your wrists.

Then there is a progression to open mouth kisses on your palms, he bends your hands down to kiss over each of your knuckles, eyelids open and trained on your face. Spencer rubs his cheek on the back of your hands and moves them again so the sensitive skin of your inner forearms are facing him. Rolling up each sleeve of your sweater, he coos at the goosebumps that raise from the air on your newly exposed skin. The kisses start from your wrists up to the crux of your inner elbow. You get a second round of goosebumps from a different source now.

You let out a rush of air at the sensitivity picking up on your arms from his mouth, from the cold. Spencer places one last kiss on your arm and nips the inside of the sensitive skin there. At this you can only make a pinched face and mutter out a simple, “Spence.”

He can’t help but grin at your placidity, he’s used to your sharp tongue, but this evening you’re nothing but soft sounds and looks. Your goosebumps soon fade as he rubs your arms up and down a few times and slides each of your sleeves back to their rightful places. “Warm?” He questions finally.

Truthfully, the space heater has kicked up enough that you don’t feel like your life's on the line anymore and you on the outside are just as warm and fuzzy as you are feeling on the inside. Still, being doted on is never something you would allow to run short if you have any say in it. “Mmm… my fingers just can’t. Get warm?” You don’t even believe yourself.

Spencer decides to take pity on you anyway through the “woe is me” act you’re executing poorly. “Ahh. Pesky things. Let me try something.” Spencer picks up your right hand again with the delicacy of picking up a butterfly and places your fingers against his lips again. This time though as he’s looking up at you and cupping your hand with both of his, he positions your middle and ring finger down so that they’re the only two pressed against his lips.

Starting off, he kisses them like before, sickly sweet, only with your warmth in mind, then ups his ante a bit. With a small parting of lips, Spencer's tongue tentatively pokes out around the fingers. He’s testing the waters. Easily, you give an eager nod of approval.

Another hum falls from Spencer's lips as he takes your two fingers, to the second knuckle, deeper into his mouth. Sucking your fingers now and staring up at you, you shuffle yourself closer to him, straddling his legs and resting your other hand against his shoulder for purchase.

Spencer’s hands slip from yours and find a place under your sweater again, and this time you let him with no complaints. You take your hand from his shoulder and cup his jaw gently with it, guiding his head back slowly, allowing him to take in more of your fingers. Spencer sucks them gently and moans around them when your fingers grip his jaw a bit too hard. You drop the hand that’s grabbing him. One has to be careful not to bruise the jaw that’s sucking their fingers. Something like that.

Letting go with a gentle pop, Spencer takes a breath of air and pushes his face up to meet yours in a wet kiss. Your wet fingers cup his face as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs.

“Mmpf-” You groan, pain spreading lightly in your mouth now. You briefly think of your first kiss, how feather-light it was that you hardly even felt him there with how tentative he was. After all this time you’ve enabled this boyfriend of yours to use his teeth to nip you like a territorial kitten who is privy to love biting.

With an open mouth you kiss him hard in a rebuttal that has him smiling against your lips. “Hmm, don’t groan, you’re not going to break,” he wraps his arms around you fully, moving his mouth to your ear now, “helpless little lamb-” his voice gentle despite his mocking candace.

You don’t feel like baring your teeth, fully satisfied with allowing Spencer to push your buttons until he inevitably notices your novel docility and rewards you for it. You know him like the back of your hand.

Wrapped in his embrace and legs open over top of him there’s an instinctual need in your brain needing you to grind down on him and a more voluntary decision bred from embarrassment that is saying too soon too soon. In the crossfire of these conflicted thoughts your thighs concoct an awkward shaky squeeze motion and immediately lift up from him.

“Going somewhere?” Spencer says in a pretend-serious tone before snickering at you once you silently sit back down on him. He understands you just as well as you do him and slips the arms that are under your sweater to brace your hips against his. “Is this what you wanted? You can take whatever you want from me.”

Sitting back down to where you were previously on his lap you card your fingers through his hair. “How chivalrous…” you murmur against his lips before you open your mouth to kiss him again. You have learned how to utilize time being spent while kissing Spencer over the course of your relationship. Rather, you have learned how to kiss each other in a way that signals immediately to the other that you’re needing this to progress past dry humping. The way your lips are slotting together and the way he’s pulling on your lips with his is a blaring sign.

After you let out a shuddering sigh while pulling away for a breath, Spencer uses this opportunity to usher you so that your back is flat against the bed and he’s resting his arms around your head on top of you. With one of his hands against your cheek and the other caging your head in you easily slip back into the version of yourselves that tremble with need, this desperation not well suited for either of you. Intolerable.

Spencer’s thigh is regrettably too far away for you to grind yourself against and in order to shake the throbbing at your center you wordlessly take his hand by your face and bring it down over your jeans. He takes the hint immediately cupping you so you can grind against his hand through the thick fabric.

He likes to pull away for this part. Spencer stops kissing you so that while he’s rubbing your clit through your pants he can hear your unoccupied mouth moaning while he kisses along your jaw and neck. He thinks of it as a cheat code really, he gets to keep kissing your skin while simultaneously hearing your progression from moans caught in your throat to small whines and begs.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the first to break and ask for the fabric barriers to be discarded, which makes you proud because you’re the one who’s the most impacted by your (basically) industrial grade jeans prohibiting you from feeling your boyfriend's fingers against you.

“Baby, these are killing me,” He’s already moving above you to unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down to around and off your ankles. “I promise I’ll keep you warm.” In all honesty you’ve forgotten about the biting wind outside and the slopes of snow toppling over, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. The idea that being cold will genuinely stop you from having him inside you right now is laughable.

You sit up and take off your sweater and undershirt as Spencer is working on your lower half. Working as in mouthing over your cunt through your panties as you struggle to unhook your bra at the visual.

Your legs are parted, thick white socks still up to your shins, and once Spencer threw your jeans to the ground he laid between your legs to kiss and lick over your panties. You keep fumbling with the clasp whenever he sucks or kisses over your clit. Not the most efficient moment of your life. “J-Jesus, I can’t get this off.” You huff and break him out of his pussy-induced stupor.

Spencer comes up from between your legs and shuffles over and unclasps your bra with such elegance that you can’t even comment on it because you know he’s boasting over it in his head. Instead you pull over his sweater and shakily unbutton the top half of his button up shirt while he works on the bottom half. Your hands briefly meet over his middle button and he kisses your forehead with a smile as he pops the last one open for you both.

His own slacks are thrown off alongside yours on the floor and you both grab at each other to take off one anothers underwear in such an eager manner that you have to laugh at each other for a moment before finally sliding them off.

Spencer guides your head with his hand behind it as you slowly lay down besides him. Knees propped up and together, he places one of his hands on the outside of your thigh, gently running his fingers tips up and down the skin. “Why don’t you go ahead and open up your legs for me?” He asks between petting your leg.

Now, he must notice that it would be too easy for him to open them for you, like he so naturally comes to do. He’s coaxed your thighs open, held them down from the backside of your knees while you squirm from his lips sucking your clit, pushed them together and to the side when you’re squeezing his sides too tight while he’s fucking you. There is something delightfully humiliating about spreading them open yourself. So eager to display for him the shiny wetness that has been coating you for a demeaning amount of time, like gifting him a bashful merit badge for his effortless work.

You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are fixed on the softness of your lower belly, waiting for the moment you start to move so he can see your sex being revealed the instant you do it. Pervert. Taking one of your hands away from the bed you trail it slowly from the bottom of your ribcage to the very part of your stomach that has Spencer transfixed. Teasing yourself and Spencer simultaneously, you push your hand between your closed thighs, still hiding yourself slightly, and dragging up some of the wetness you collected with your first two fingers.

This time your fingers go into your own mouth, sucking off the taste of yourself while you watch Spencer mouth breathe and the tip of his dick start to dribble. Poor thing. “I love you.” He whispers into the air, incentivizing you to just do what you’re told.

Embarrassment flushes your chest as you part your legs for him, putting both of your arms lazily above your head, finally rewarding him with saying “I love you” back once your thighs are on opposite sides from each other and your pussy is on full display.

He shuffles closer to you on his knees, arm reaching out to softly run his hand on the inside of your thigh. “Look at you… can I touch?” Spencer’s asking like he doesn’t know if he doesn’t you’ll die.

“I’ll die if you don’t.” He should get where you’re coming from. He smiles meekly to himself, proud, or maybe just plain excited, and spreads apart your lips with his fingers. Your toes curl in on themselves as he slides his middle finger through you, spreading your wetness and mulling your ache. It’s almost too much to watch this near-inspection and you turn your flushed cheeks to the side and look at how his dick is a matching shade of red to your face. You love this part. Tangible evidence to how he feels about you, not that you need any more, but seeing right in your face how being with you makes his thighs tense and cock heavy puts a smile on your face.

With two fingers now he’s collecting the sticky soft wetness that never stops collecting in times like these, and rubbing your clit with them in such a gentle way you scoff out a “Please-”

Immediately he gives in, he’s not a professional at avoiding your begs even when it's looking like he’s going to be in charge. Pressing his fingers harder against you he rubs faster circles onto where you’re pleading for it. “Being so bossy. We haven’t even started.” He quips, trying to gain back some of the fervor he has for being in control, not just sit back, be a good listener, and give give give.

Your clit throbs helplessly against his fingers. Wanting them harder and faster, wanting them inside you, in your mouth, against your throat, you can’t help but whine at the possibilities montaging in your head. Spencer watches a small dribble of white essence leak from you, mutters a “Jesus” to himself and slides his two fingers off your clit to inside of you. You choke on your moan, not expecting to be so full so quickly, it’s perfect. Spencer isn’t teasingly fucking you with his fingers. He knows how to curl them, he does so. He knows to put his forearm into it in the way that makes you stamp your legs shut. He’s fucking you quickly and easily with them as you bring your hands over your face.

“There, Spence.” You mumble against your hands, biting the skin of your palm to be courteous to everyone else in the house right now.

“I know.” He pushes against that spot in you that’s made you cry and rubs with a pressure made with love. You buck your hips and let him get away with whatever he wants to do with you, but the noise coming from his fingers in you makes you want to float out of your body.

Brows furrowed and head pressing back against the bed your hips start to twist, with a mind of their own, turning over onto Spencer's hand. This part you can’t control. “Mmm, Spencer. Okay, okay, fuck.” You’re bargaining in your own way, for something neither of you know, but Spencer figures out every time. He slips his fingers out and places them on your clit again. Wet and pruned from being inside of you, he can move fastly against it as you gasp.

“I wish you could see what I see right now. So wet. You’re about to ruin these sheets the first night, baby.” He laughs gently at you.

“Th-then stop touching me.” You bite back. Immediately scared of the idea of him following through.

Spencer would literally never do that. He rolls his eyes a bit and furrows his brows at you when you make eye contact. He hums and adds a third finger to rub circles against your clit, two not being enough anymore for a precise massage with how wet you are.

Moving slowly back flat against the bed, your pelvis gives up on trying to crush Spencer’s hand underneath them. When his other hand trails down to fuck you while he rubs your clit you look for a way to thank him without bringing humiliation to yourself for years to come. You feebly grip the base of his dick, palm fairly loose around him as he’s currently milking all of the strength from your limbs.

Spencer plainly laughs at this, it’s so you. He’s making your brain leak from your ears and you can only pump him lightly a few times. The one instance where you two have tried to 69 this story ended a similar way, with his tongue doing unspeakable things while you can just moan around his dick and wetly kiss it. It’s hard to do things while he’s fucking you.

You huff, wanting his pretty leaking dick to be getting the same amount of attention as you are. Keeping your one hand on his base to keep it from bobbing, you reach over with your other hand to rub his tip, smear himself all over the sensitive top. He’s stopped laughing now.

“Please don’t make me cum right now.” Spencer pleads softly as he starts to quickly rub your clit from side to side now instead of the circles he was doing before. Fuck, talk about a competition. Your back arches up from the bed as your hand falls limply from where it was on his tip.

Wanting to inform Spencer on how you can’t jerk him off while he’s touching you so he should just start fucking you properly is not a sentence in your capabilities right now so you try your best with a “fuck me fuck me fuck me.” Doesn’t leave much for interpretation.

He slows his fingers and pulls them away with a sad “sorry, angel…” after glancing at your sour face from the lack of stimulation you’re getting now. He slips off the bed entirely to grab a condom from his bag, and throws it on your stomach for you to open after his fingers slip trying to tear the wrapper himself from your wetness still on his fingers.

Fully situated between your legs again now Spencer looks up at the ceiling briefly while you roll the condom on him as if saying a prayer for composure before he’s inside of you. You can’t help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

Whenever Spencer first slides into you, you have to make sure to keep your eyes open to watch his face since he nearly always wears the same angelic face that you never get to see elsewhere. His mouth becomes a small “o”, his eyebrows are furrowed together, but not like he’s squeezing them down, they’re pulled up in a blissed out expression as his eyelids flutter closed. Heavenly.

He’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he’s pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. There’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him. Maybe you are making too much of a mess out of these poor clean sheets.

After his initial haze of trying not to come instantly, Spencer brings back down his right hand to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers. You bite down on his shoulder to keep from terrorizing your housemates. Your propped up foot, still covered in your warm socks, thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets.

“Feel nice baby?” Spencer asks into your hair as you bite down onto him.

How he could ask you this is beyond you, though you suppose he’s indirectly asking you to feed into his praise kink. “You feel so perfect Spence,” you whine against him. “unhhh…might be a bit too obsessed with your cock” you slur and laugh a bit at the end, not sure what will do it for him. Nevertheless he lets out a choked whimper and loses his rhythm. Bingo.

His weight is pushing you down so you can’t wiggle away from any of the stimulation he’s giving you. It accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don’t get enough time to warn him you’re close. You weren’t close really, it felt good and then you came. Sucking in air through your teeth your thighs squeeze around Spencer, who is murmuring “oh baby…” into your ear.

You want to kick him for how good he’s making you feel. It feels unfair and you want to throw a tantrum based on how his fingers are still rubbing your twitching clit and how much you love the feeling of drowning in his pleasure. You’d never throw a tantrum though. Right now, Spencer has caught you in a completely willing mood where you’re closer to proposing to him than anything.

It’s dizzying. Your mouth is wide open in shock as you let him touch you into overstimulation and you don’t even realize it till he lets go of the vice he had on your leg and brings his free hand to put his thumb into your mouth. Latching onto it immediately, you use it as a buffer, a gag, to prevent yourself from making too much noise or mouthing off. You bite down a little on the digit and drool rolls down your lips to your chin. Spencer takes his thumb out, collects it, and pushes it back into your mouth.

Spencer reverts back to rubbing your clit back and forth with his middle and ring finger, losing purchase a few times with how wet you are, but finding his way back to your sweet spot just as quickly. You feel the second orgasm building this time around. Your eyes shoot open, you suck softly on his thumb and he looks back down at you, recognizing the pleading look in your eyes.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, angel. S’a good girl-” he gives his sort of permission and you cum so hard you don’t realize he’s finishing right behind you.

He’s petting your hair with his hand, both wet from either your cum or your spit and you try to shove that complaint out of your head because of how sweetly he’s moaning above you as he finishes. He’s done cumming but he tends to keep sliding into you after, not ready to give up the whole experience yet. This is when you hear his prettiest sounds.

You cup his cheeks and kiss all over his face and he softly smiles and finally pulls out of you, laying on his back and scooping you on top of him. Tracing a finger over his lips softly you whisper how impossibly good he always makes you feel, how he gets you so wet that you didn’t even know you had that much in you till the tips of his ears go red and he pinches your side.

“Open for me.” He asks one more time after shaking off the blush that has accumulated from your praises. You smile and open, finally sucking off what’s left of yourself from his fingers. He pops them into his mouth after yours without a second thought and you cannot believe this is the man who gets the heebie jeebies when he has to shake hands with someone new he meets. They should be the ones hesitant to shake his hand with where they have been.

Both feeling ridiculously sticky, you shower together, not even bothering to unpack your toiletries, just using the too-lemony-smelling products the lodge has provided you with for free. Spencer washes your hair for you so you don’t even need to complain to him about how he’s dirtied it and you both trot back over to the bed with fuzzy robes on.

You cover your face with your hands at the unmistakable wet patches all over the sheets and Spencer collects them quickly and pops them into the washer.

Exhausted, you both lay side by side on the barren bed as you wait for the sheets to be done. Mumbled against your lips a proposition, “I want to see you in that hot tub.” He clearly feels bad for the goosebumps littering your torso that he’s subconsciously been trying to rub away for the last twenty minutes after you left the heat of the shower.

Blinking blankly at him for a moment in silence you purse your lips, “I was thinking about the hot tub too.” The thought of removing yourself from the room that has cold leaking back into it from the lack of physical activity now is thrilling.

Spencer laughs and sits up next to you on the bed. “Everyone is so exhausted from waking up early and skiing all day that we will be all alone so I thought now would be a good-”

“Yeah,” you nod your head enthusiastically at him. You can’t remember the last time you were in a hot tub and it sounds like a dream right now. “Let me get my suit.” You both wobbly stand up and you retrieve your swimsuit from the drawer, laughing while you toss Spencer's trunks back at him. He’s so blissed out from the sex that he doesn’t even mention the trunks, he just slips them on and heads out.

You make Spencer step onto the freezing porch first after you demand him to take the cover off the hot tub for you both, this was his idea after all. Watching from the glass door you blow your breath onto the glass to draw a little heart with an “S” inside of it in the fog. Spencer blows you a kiss in return as he skimpers out in his purple trunks and enormous ski coat.

The alternation between walking out in a swimsuit in that ungodly temperature, into the hot jets of the hot tub feels like whiplash, but once you’re fully submerged you giggle happily and sway your hands under the water.

You and Spencer play footsie under the water like two lovesick teenagers at a pool party as you look off the balcony at the snow. You nudge him under the water a bit before talking,

“Thank you so much for bringing me to this, seriously. I feel like we’re on our honeymoon.” you joke.

Spencer hums and takes your hands into his, rubbing the outside of your hand with his thumb. “Mmm, well on our actual honeymoon I’ll probably have to take you somewhere warm to avoid all this teeth chattering.” He teases back at you, but his words have an underlying sincerity that makes you sink yourself down into the water to your chin with a smile.

“You’re gonna marry meeee,” you respond in a sing-song voice, Spencer grins back for a moment then looks at you and nods earnestly.

“How could I not?”

#spencer reid #smut #spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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nanivinsmoke · 3 months ago

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❥ messy on a haystack

❥ dbf!logan x fem!reader

having a crush on an older man, your dad’s best friend , was something you never expected.

❥ tags: age gap (but it makes sense), based off of origins wolverine, reader is thick asf (country booty duhh), explicit language, creaming, squirting, breeding kink, pussy drunk logan, mutant awakening, semi-plot—needed him to fuck us asap, logan is a little pervy…

note: up next, fantasize. wc: 2.8k

your dad left the farm’s care in your hands this week, while he took a trip back to his hometown to check on his parents—your grandparents. which means that you were in charge of everything. from the animals, to the wood the men chopped, to the pay and the workers; you were in charge of it all. including him.

logan had known your father for a while, meeting him a few months after you left for college and that was practically six years ago. during that time, logan practically ran the farm with your father—he was his right hand man. everything was running smoothly, the farm had been booming for years. and then your father got sick, changing everything.

people found out about your father’s sickness and tried to get him sell. logan would scare them away most of the time, telling them to fuck off, but then the stress of running the farm started to jeopardize his health even more. so, logan found your number stashed in your father’s office—your dad’s too stubborn and old school to get a cellphone—and gave you a call. you caught the next flight out.

the moment you stepped on the dirt paved roads, everything seemed to perk back up. especially your old man. but, when logan laid eyes on you, he was finally able to see what you really looked like, (your dad kept old photos of you in his office) and he was amazed. you were gorgeous, prettiest lil thing he’d ever seen.

those deep blue flare jeans you wore, hugged you tighter than a grandma during holidays. and he never thought he was an ass man till he seen yours and how it sat in your jeans. and don’t get him started on how you filled out your the cropped white beater—fuck he sounded like a perv. but, it’s been a long time since he thought about a woman like that; and you were everything and then some.

after greeting your dad and explaining to him why you were here, you finally met the mysterious man who called you—and let’s just say he caught your eyes too. he was handsome, the rugged look he adorned was incredibly sexy and the way he would look at you; had your panties wet every night. if someone would hear your thoughts right now, they’d call you weird and tell you that he was old enough to be your father—but thank goodness he was not.

—

“time for lunch boys!” you yelled out to the men hard at work, watching them throw down their things and separate—happy to finally stop working and chow down. you watched as logan sauntered over towards you, standing on the porch; waiting for him to join you for lunch. “hi logan.”

“hey princess, what’s for lunch?” you blushed at the nickname and walked with him to the kitchen, where you had practically went all out. you made a big ole southern meal. you loved cooking, it was your love language. and he loved the meals you’d make.

the two of you sat down and began passing around the various dishes of food you had made, before he sparked up a conversation. “your dad left today, right? what day did he say he’ll be back?” his eyes locked onto yours as he picked the chicken you made, munching on it while he spoke.

“yeah and he won’t be back until…next monday.” he nodded and smirked, tossing back some more of the home cooked food you made. “so then i got you all to myself then?” you nearly choked on your mashed potatoes, eyes wide when you saw him smirking. there was no denying that you heard him, loud and clear.

just as you were about to respond, the kitchen timer went off—signaling that it was time to go back to work. you pouted and he hurried up to scarf down the glass of water beside his food before getting up and leaning over to kiss your forehead, “later princess. I’ll be back tonight.” you watched him leave, heart heavy with love and your mind going crazy with what happened at the table.

you spent the next few hours at the front office, crunching numbers and overseeing where the next shipment of wood was going. the sun going down and slipping past the horizon, made the workers excited as they all wrapped up their work and lined up to clock out. you watched from the porch, as they scanned their manilla colored time cards in front of the clock and headed home.

logan was the last one and when he clocked out, he made his way over towards you. his flannel was torn to shreds and his beater that made his toned torso stick out, was covered in dirt; showing how hard his day went. but all in all, he was still sexy, even when covered in dirt.

“logan~” your voice mimicked a siren, trying to seduce a sailor in by the sexy tone of their voice, while your eyes were low and lidded. he could feel himself grown in his pants from the sound of your voice, his desire for you growing by the second.

“need sumn’, princess?” his voice made you melt and you pressed your thighs together. “shower’s free and i made your bed. ooh, there’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re still hungry!” you smiled at him, trying to suppress a moan when his natural scent hit your nostrils. the smell of woods, hours old cologne and hard work, had your panties wet.

he nodded his head, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down to your thick thighs that were no longer being hidden by denim—before fixtating them back onto your own. “might have to marry ya’ one day.” he commented, planting a kiss on your forehead, before stepping into the house.

letting out a moan, you bit your lip and accepted the tingling sensation that throbbed down below. oh you needed him bad.

logan enjoyed the shower’s hot steaming waters, easing the tension in his muscles and helping him clear his brain. well at least he tried to, his head was clouded with thoughts of you. his best friend’s daughter.

once he stepped out of the shower and put on something comfy, he went down to the kitchen hoping to find you there, however much to his dismay you weren’t. he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. just as he was about to put it his lips, he heard you let out a distressed scream and he took off running.

he could see you in front of the barn doors being harassed by the men that came a month ago, whom tried to get your dad to sell his land. one had a grip on your hair while the other stood in front, taunting you. logan practically pounced on them and his claws unsheathed, slicing them men up.

you back away and watched as they fought, blood splattering everywhere—but that’s not what worried you. what made you worry was when both of the men began to overpower logan—you had to help him. you realized there were some tools in the barn and as you moved to get, you appeared inside in the blink of an eye; grabbing a shovel before appearing right behind the fighting men again.

your mind was pushing out a million thoughts about what just happened, but you didn’t have time to focus on them right now; you had to save him. you swung with all of your might, knocking the men across the field and off of logan. their bodies crashed into other, giving logan ample enough time to pounce on them and fuck them up.

“get in the barn!” he yelled out, slicing them to bits and pieces—and just like before, you appeared in the barn.

–—

you were in there for quite a while, pacing back and forth; wondering what the hell was going on out there. the sounds of his grunting and the slicing of their skin could no longer be heard. you didn’t care what happened to them, they deserved hell or worse, all you cared about was logan.

the doors to the barn creaked open and you eyed it, but you relaxed when you saw him stomping in. your eyes watered at his bloody torso and you sprinted over to him, engulfing him in a hug. “baby, i was so worried about you!”

that nickname rolled off your tongue and he caught it, pulling you back to look at your face. he held you by your chin, puffing up your cheeks, before kissing your soft plump lips—while you gladly accepted his. the kiss was hot and a little sloppy. and when he pulled away from you, a trail spit following.

“been wanting to do that for awhile now. go ahead and take those off, you won’t be needing them,” he tugged on the hem of your shorts and you obliged. you quickly stripped them off along with your sunset colored thong, a web of your essence following. you were beyond soaked and he knew the moment he appeared in the barn, he could smell it.

you sat on a nearby haystack, spreading your legs and your slick coated lips, rubbing your sensitive little love bud. “please logan, wan’ you so bad.”

the lust that had built up over time, had overflowed and erupted; causing a change within you. and he loved it.

he watched with a lust filled glint in his eyes, his cock growing in his sweatpants as he watched you play with your pretty pussy—his desire and longing for you growing by the second. “think you can handle it, princess?” he asked and you nodded, slipping a finger in your aching hole; a sweet mewl leaving your lips.

he then replaced his finger with his fat leaky tip, pressing it right at your entrance; causing you to clamp down on nothing. he grunted and pushed through, stretching you open bit by bit; making you gasp and tear prick at the corner of your eyes.

“ ‘s too big—fuck!” that was an understatement. logan was huge, thick even. he was painfully big, but that’s exactly what you wanted. to be fucked dumb by his big fat painful cock.

“i know baby, but you can take it. yeah? —atta girl” he coached, splitting your cunt open as he pushed through, his tips inches away from kissing your cervix. logan leaned down and kissed away your tears, his cock pressing deep inside of you. he wiggled his hips around, helping you get used to his size and pressing his thumb to your clit; causing you to shudder.

the more he rubbed and he moved, the less pain you felt—and soon you were taking him so well. his cock was coated in your slick, a ring of white started form around his base as he plunged in and out of your wetness. logan watched your tits bounce out of your top with lidded eyes and the animal in him couldn’t help it anymore. his claws unsheathed and wrapped your top open—shredding it completely and freeing your jiggly mounds.

“so fucking—pretty. fuck, my pretty girl taking me so well!” his praises had you gushing all over him, clamping down on him as you started to see specks of white. you had never had an orgasm like this nor have you ever came so quickly before. none of the boys in college made you cum like this. but, that was the difference between logan and them. they were boys and he was a man.

“please don’t stop. please~” you begged, pulling him close while your orgasm flowed out of you. he grunted in your ear and your cunt weeped at the noise, his hips never faltering. “wasn’t planning on it sweetheart.” he moved his head down and took one of your hard nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like he was trying to pull milk from it.

you whined and bucked your hips up to match his thrusts, your clit pressing into him—adding more pleasure to your fucked out body.

you clung to him with each powerful thrust, his hips spanking your ass making a clapping sound erupt through the barn; accompanying your series of moans. your next orgasm approached by the minute, but this one felt different and you lowered your hips trying to back away.

“wait—wait, feels like m’gonna pee—“ but he didn’t budge, he stayed inside of your pussy—still drilling your cunt stilly—and let your nipple go with a pop; a web of saliva followed after him.

“just let go, trust me baby.” he smirked and gripped your hips, hazel eyes dancing over yours. you watched the dog tags around his neck jump with each pump, sending you straight to nirvana. your body shook as you let go, this orgasm different from your last; it was way more intense and you loved the feeling.

a clear stream of liquid splash out of you and onto his low stomach, pushing him out of you—drenching the hay bale beneath you. he slapped his cock onto your sensitive clit, coating himself in your essence.

when you finally calmed down, he leaned down and kissed your lips—hunger laced in it—his hips grinding against yours. and that’s when you realized something. he was still hard. you pulled away and looked at his swollen cock, shiny with your love. “baby, you didn’t get to cum?”

he pecked your lips some more, his tip now laying onto your belly, “just wanted to get you off first. see how pretty you looked when you came on my dick.”

you practically drooled at his words, eyes glued onto his girth that laid on your tummy—small hand fisting it, causing him to growl. “come sit your pretty ass down on my dick and ride me~”.

and that’s what you did for the next couple of minutes, riding him on the hay bale where he just made you squirt for the first time. webs of your messy fluids sticking to his thighs while you bounced and grinded on him—your boobs jiggling all in his face.

logan was losing himself under you, his cock twitching with each movement. he couldn’t wait anymore. he so desperately wanted to let go inside you. wanted to see your belly swollen in a few months with his kid and fuck another one right into you.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed.

you rolled your hips, teasing him while leaning down to kiss him—tongues melting on one another. you pulled away and bit your lip, eyeing him with desire. the way he made you feel had you wanting more and he felt the same way. “take me inside.”

—

the two of you laid on his navy blue sheets, in each other’s arms, after a few more rounds of lovemaking. you toyed with his dog tags while he stared at your pretty face, loving how you looked with the moon glowing on you.

“your dad would kill me if he came back and saw us like this.” he spoke and you looked at him and smiled—getting on top of him and laying down on his muscled body.

“nah, i don’t think so. he’ll know i'm in good hands. ill be with the guy he’s going to sell the farm to, after all.” one of his beautiful thick eyebrows raised in response and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“read the official letter in his office, he wants to sell the farm to you. im all for it. keep you close so we can have a litter of mutant babies together—now that i am one~”.

now it was his turn to smile and kiss on you. he rubbed circles on your back and pecked more kisses to your plump lips, “you’d look so pretty having my kids, with a ring on your finger and my last name attached to yours. i could see us turning that barn into our house, waking up next to you every day…”

“you can see all of that? you sure the wolverine isn’t a clairvoyant?” you joked and he roared with laughter. you smiled at him, so happy and content with every. so happy that you had to tell him, “i love you.”

his hazel eyes with hints of green widened and his smile became wider, “i love you more, doll.”

#logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan smut #lumberjack logan #wolverine x mutant reader #wolverine x you #x men wolverine #dbf!logan #dbf!wolverine #wolverine #xmen wolverine #logan howlett xmen #xmen logan #xmen origins #logan howlett

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ellecdc · 6 months ago

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hello darling! I was wondering if I could request poly! marauders where they come home late or something and she’s asleep, but they discover her cuddling a stuffed animal for the first time and she gets all shy and embarassed but they think it’s adorable!!!

I have this stuffed animal I’ve had since I was little and as a 24 year I still cuddle him.

totally didn't write this based off of the little stuffed toy I still have on my bed.......

Scout's Honour

poly!marauders x fem!reader who still sleeps with a stuffed animal

CW: boys are maybe tipsy when they get home, reader feels shy and insecure for a second, Sirius makes that horrible Sirius/serious joke, James x Sirius get frisky at the end but nothing described

Up until this point, Remus felt as though he had done a pretty good job keeping the boys quiet in their trek to the bedroom.

All that effort was for naught, it seemed, as Remus grimaced whilst he watched Sirius basically belly-flop face first onto the mattress, causing you to be jostled - quite violently - awake.

“What the-?” You gasped; eyes darting around nervously before they landed on your three boyfriends.

But no sooner had your face relaxed did you look alarmed again before quickly readjusting the blankets around you.

“You okay, dovey?” Remus asked then. “Sorry for waking you.” He added, pointedly glaring at his long-haired boyfriend who looked quite pleased at his plans of having all of his partners awake at once come to fruition.

“S’okay.” You responded; vowels and consonants running together as your mouth tried to keep up with the speed at which your brain was functioning.

“Outside clothes, Jamie.” Remus quickly chided then as James tried to sneak under the covers to join you.

This seemed to perk you up for some reason, and unfortunately for you, not one of the boys missed the way your hand darted nervously under the blankets.

“My, my, what were you up to?” Sirius taunted salaciously, eyes immediately moving towards his ‘favourite’ bedside drawer.

“She was asleep, Pads.” James slurred as he nearly fell in his attempt to free himself from his jeans.

“Yes, until someone so rudely woke her.” Remus added.

Sirius did appear to go bashful then, turning to look at you apologetically. “Sorry, doll.”

“But if you’re not- fuck, if you’re not hiding something fun.” James interrupted himself as he tripped over nothing before he finally weaselled his way under the covers. “What are you hiding?”

“M’not hiding anything.” You argued petulantly, looking at Remus as you answered James’ question as if he would somehow protect you from further questioning.

And though Remus could protect you from further questioning, he had to admit he found himself just as curious.

“It’s a surprise for me, isn’t it?” Sirius queried haughtily then as he changed into his pyjamas.

“It’s not for you.” You groaned; sleep-addled brain not capturing that you sort of gave away that you were, indeed, hiding something.

“What d’you have there, dovey?” Remus asked finally, moving to stand above you on your side of the bed and tipping your head back so he could press a kiss to your lips.

You brought your hands up to hold Remus’ wrists as you reciprocated the kiss, but made a reluctant sound in the back of your throat when he wouldn’t let you turn and look away from him.

“Oh my goodness!” James shrilled then, causing both you and Remus to turn your attention to your slightly tipsy boyfriend who was now holding a tiny plush dog in his hands. “She’s so cute!”

“James!” You shrieked; tearing yourself from Remus’ hold as you made for James.

For as uncoordinated as James had been mere moments ago, the sight of you lunging at him seemed to reawaken some dormant muscle memory from his time on the school rugby team as he hastily tossed the toy to Sirius.

Sirius - not prepared in the slightest for a game of catch at such an hour of the morning - let it hit him in the side of the head before it fell unceremoniously to the ground. He quickly collected it though and moved behind Remus in hopes of protection from you as he inspected the worn and well-loved looking toy.

“Is this a stuffie?” Sirius asked then, turning the plush dog to examine it. “Babe, that’s so cute!”

“Give it here.” You demanded; eyes wild, now fully awake as you stared at Sirius imploringly.

“But-”

“Sirius, please.”

“Dovey.” Remus began cautiously, bending at the waist in an attempt to make eye contact with you. “Hey, dove.” He continued when you didn’t respond.

You reluctantly pulled your gaze away from Sirius in order to appease Remus.

“We’re not making fun of you.”

“Yes you are.” You whispered miserably, causing any teasing from James and Sirius to drop immediately.

“Nonono.” James chanted as he army crawled his way across the bed to you. “M’so sorry, angel. I was making fun, but I wasn’t trying to make fun of.”

“I wasn’t lying, doll; I really do think this is so cute.” Sirius added.

You didn’t seem to agree, however, when your bottom lip jutted out and your shoulders slumped.

“Baby.” James moaned sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

You reluctantly leaned into James’ side as he all but draped himself over you.

“Dove, why have we never seen this before?” Remus asked as he took the pilfered toy from Sirius’ hands and inspected it himself.

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing.” You moaned.

“It’s cute.” Sirius argued.

“It’s childish.” You countered.

“It’s human, sweetheart.” Remus declared before handing the plush dog back to you. “I still have my teddy from when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, packed up in a box somewhere.” You deadpanned.

“That’s only because he roomed in a dorm with three boys back in school who would’ve razzed him mercilessly for it.” Sirius offered.

“Yeah, and now I’m sleeping with them.” You responded as you looked down at the plush in your hands.

“Who have grown and matured, surely; you wouldn’t be sleeping with them otherwise.” Sirius said as he sat at the end of your bed and nudged your knee with his.

“What’s her name?” Remus asked then as he nodded to the aged stuffed animal.

You glared half-heartedly at him in response.

“I’m serious, dove-” Remus started before catching himself none-too-quickly.

“No, I’m Sirius.” Sirius cut in; smiling proudly as his three partners glared at him.

Remus sucked in an exasperated yet loving breath as he turned his attention back to you. “This little thing was - is - obviously important to you; so what’s her name?”

You sighed in defeat as you turned it over in your hand. “It’s a him.” You corrected petulantly.

“Terrible sorry, good sir.” James offered graveley; nodding his head so deep that he nearly lost his glasses.

You breathed out a chuckle as you looked up shyly. “His name’s Scout.” You offered in a whisper; your answer being rewarded by cooing from your boyfriend’s.

“That’s so cute.” James repeated.

“I can’t believe you’ve loved another man before me.” Sirius teased with an unimpressed shake of his head. “And he’s been in my home this whole time?”

You turned bashful again and looked at Sirius timidly. “Erm, I’ve sort of been hiding him between the mattress and boxspring.”

Remus threw his head back in laughter as he finally had an answer as to why your side of the bed was so lumpy.

“Another man!? In my bed!?” Sirius teased as he clutched at non-existing pearls. “And you didn’t even introduce us!?”

“For shame, angel.” James added with a disappointed shake of his head. “I know the bed is small, but there was certainly room for one more.” He continued as he booped ‘Scout’s’ nose with the tip of his finger.

“That’s right.” Remus agreed readily as he stood to change into his own pyjamas. “No more hiding that cutie from us sweet girl.”

“Yeah, I already like him more than Sirius.” James joked, earning him a scolding ‘hey!’ from both you and Remus and an indignant scoff from Sirius before Sirius bodily tackled him on the bed.

“That’s not what you were saying last night there, handsome!” Sirius laughed as he jabbed his fingers into James’ ribs where he was most ticklish. “Take it back!”

“No!”

“Tell me you love me!”

“I love Scout more!”

“You little-” Sirius started, but he never got to finish when he pulled his boyfriend into a searing kiss.

What had started out as laughter and playful wrestling was quickly becoming heated and then bordering pornographic when you turned to look at Remus who was simply watching in exasperation.

“Should you, me, and Scout have a cwtch on the couch, dove?”

You chuckled as you gathered a throw blanket and Scout from the bed, and trotted out the door with Remus as you left your boyfriends to tire each other out.

Remus really couldn't imagine the four of you making room for another again, but he was more than happy to share you with Scout and he knew the same could be said for Sirius and James.

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p0orbaby · 1 month ago

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May i request a short fluffy blurb of Alexia and readers first Christmas with their new born daughter and the barca team and the team really outdoes by bringing gifts and Alexia and the reader having no space in their alarm with all the gifts. Godmothers mapi and ingrid being the main culprit

The living room is a mess, and it’s entirely the Barcelona women’s team’s fault. Wrapping paper litters the floor, piling up around the coffee table like snowdrifts. Your newborn daughter is asleep in her crib in the corner, blissfully unaware of the madness her first Christmas has caused. You, however, are very aware. And so is Alexia, who is leaning against the wall with a look of both awe and dread as yet another ridiculously oversized box is dragged into the room.

“This is too much,” Alexia mutters under her breath, though there’s no heat in her voice.

“It was too much an hour ago,” you reply, balancing a pile of discarded ribbons in one hand and an empty cup of coffee in the other. “Now it’s just… obscene”

Mapi strides in with a smug grin, Ingrid trailing behind her with a stuffed giraffe nearly as tall as you. “This one’s from us!” Mapi announces, gesturing to the giraffe like it’s the Sistine Chapel.

“Of course it is,” Alexia says dryly, eyeing the giraffe. “Because every baby needs a life-sized safari animal”

“Exactly,” Mapi replies, unbothered. “She’s going to love it”

“She can’t even hold her own head up yet,” you point out, though you’re smiling. “What’s she supposed to do with a giraffe?”

“She’ll grow into it,” Ingrid says, as if that makes complete sense.

By now, the room is more present than furniture. There are building blocks, stuffed animals, miniature football kits with Putellas printed on the back, a rocking horse, and something that looks suspiciously like a baby drum set.

“I’m scared to look in the kitchen,” Alexia says, almost to herself.

You glance at her, smirking. “You should be. I saw Patri sneaking in with a box that had ‘For the Future Chef’ on it”

Alexia groans, tipping her head back dramatically. “Why does everyone think she needs to be a prodigy at one week old?”

“To be fair,” you say, “she is your daughter”

Alexia gives you a side-eye but doesn’t argue.

The team, meanwhile, has completely taken over the house. Keira and Lucy are assembling what looks like a plastic playhouse in the corner. Aitana is explaining the benefits of wooden toys to Sandra, who seems far more interested in the cookies on the table. And Mapi, of course, is busy unboxing the giraffe like it’s Christmas morning for her.

“Where are we even going to put all this?” Alexia whispers, watching as Marta adds another wrapped gift to the growing pile.

“We could build an extension,” you joke, though you’re only half kidding.

By the time the team leaves, hours later, the house looks like Santa’s workshop exploded. Your daughter is still blissfully unaware, sleeping peacefully despite the chaos. Alexia sinks onto the couch beside you, surveying the damage.

“You realise this is going to happen every year now,” she says, nudging your shoulder.

You glance at the towering giraffe, the playhouse that’s still half-built, and the mountain of gifts stacked against the wall. “We’ll need a bigger house”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Or a storage unit”

“Or fewer godparents,” you mutter, eyeing the guilty parties in the kitchen, where Mapi and Ingrid are raiding the fridge.

But despite the madness, there’s a warmth in the room that you wouldn’t trade for anything. Alexia reaches for your hand, her fingers brushing yours gently.

“Merry Christmas,” she says softly, glancing at the baby.

You smile, squeezing her hand. “Merry Christmas”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso x reader

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explorevenus · 2 months ago

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my soul to keep ♡ vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie

description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.

a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion.

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat.

Until he found you.

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile.

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you.

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them.

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself.

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift.

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea.

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago.

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening.

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you.

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community.

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result.

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react.

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground.

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you.

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground.

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it.

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon.

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them.

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.”

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?”

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.”

“Huh?”

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?”

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to.

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism.

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you.

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you.

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding.

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move.

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.”

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family.

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his.

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…”

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.”

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really.

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room.

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness.

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond.

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine.

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?”

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.”

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.”

“I figured as much.”

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?”

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it.

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?”

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?”

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?”

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.’

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job.

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more.

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training.

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint.

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either.

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative.

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck.

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others.

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him.

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break.

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach.

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more.

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention.

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all.

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off.

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..."

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun.

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss.

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand.

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls.

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same.

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers.

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried.

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came.

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright.

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..."

He wouldn't dream of it.

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest.

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside.

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison.

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity.

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you.

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance.

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first.

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there.

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..."

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to.

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy.

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you."

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening.

"I love you too, little one."

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #vampire leon kennedy #vampire leon #dividers by saradika-graphics

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burningred1989 · 1 month ago

Text

THE INTERVIEW

A/N: Y/N and Harry attend an interview where James Corden shows pictures of Harry with Kendall Jenner on a yacht from years ago. While Harry nonchalantly recounts stories about the day, Y/N grows visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact. Neither Harry nor anyone else notices her discomfort during the show.

MASTERLIST

<<<<<

It was a late-night talk show, and Harry and Y/N were invited on James Corden’s program for an interview. The energy in the studio was high as fans cheered and clapped. Harry, looking relaxed and in a great mood, sat next to Y/N as they prepared to chat with James about their upcoming projects. The crowd loved them both—Harry for his laid-back charm and Y/N for her infectious laughter and grace.

James, always known for his cheeky sense of humor, had an idea for a bit to add some levity to the interview. After talking about music, fashion, and random bits of gossip, James pulled up a set of pictures on the screen. He held up one image in particular, one that instantly made Harry freeze for a split second.

The picture showed Harry and Kendall Jenner on a yacht, laughing, with Harry tugging at Kendall’s foot and her hugging him affectionately. The shot was a few years old, taken during a high-profile trip that had made headlines, with paparazzi capturing nearly every moment of their time together. The image was all over tabloids at the time, and the media had made a spectacle of it, turning it into something more than it ever was.

James, with his usual playful grin, teased, "Remember when you shook the world with these, Harry?"

Harry laughed, brushing it off with his usual charm. “Ah, yeah, that was a fun day,” he said casually, leaning back in his seat. “Kendall and I had a great time on that yacht. It was just one of those spontaneous moments, you know?” He went on to tell a story about how the day had gone, laughing about the playful moments with Kendall and the unexpected waves they had encountered.

Y/N, however, wasn’t laughing. She sat still beside him, a faint unease settling in her chest. She tried her best to keep her composure, but her fingers began to fidget with the fabric of her pants. Her knees bounced up and down nervously, and a cold feeling crept over her. She didn’t look directly at Harry as he spoke, keeping her eyes fixed ahead as though she was focusing on something in the distance. Her mind was racing, but she didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the conversation.

Nobody noticed her discomfort—not James, who was absorbed in the conversation, nor Harry, who was still animated and laughing about the day on the yacht.

It wasn’t until later, when they were back in the car on the way to their hotel, that Harry noticed a sudden shift in Y/N’s behavior. She was unusually quiet, staring out of the window with a faraway look in her eyes. Harry tried to spark a conversation, asking her how the interview went, but she only replied with a soft, "I'm just tired, Harry. It's been a long day."

His brow furrowed in concern, but he didn’t push her further, figuring she might just need some space. They arrived at the hotel, and Y/N went straight to the bathroom without saying much. When she returned, she climbed into bed, facing away from him. Harry, still not fully aware of the weight she was carrying from the interview, settled into bed beside her, trying to fall asleep. But his mind wouldn’t rest.

<<<<<

The next morning, Harry woke up early, his usual habit of checking his phone first thing kicking in. He scrolled through TikTok, lazily watching random videos while yawning. Suddenly, he came across a video of the interview from the night before—fans had already begun uploading their reactions. He tapped on the clip, expecting to see the usual praise for Y/N’s stunning outfit and his charming demeanor.

But instead, the comments were focused on something different. They weren’t discussing Harry’s story about the yacht. They were talking about Y/N’s discomfort.

The video showed her visibly fidgeting, her fingers twisting and her knees bouncing as Harry laughed and joked about his time with Kendall. There were multiple comments pointing out how obvious it was that Y/N wasn’t comfortable during that part of the interview.

"Did anyone else notice how Y/N was looking down the entire time they talked about that yacht trip? 😬"

"Her body language is so off—what’s going on, Harry?"

"I can feel the tension through the screen, poor Y/N... 😢"

“Did Harry not notice? She’s clearly uncomfortable…”

Harry’s stomach sank as he read through the comments, feeling a lump form in his throat. His gaze shifted to the next clip, which was a fan reaction video. This one was more analytical, showing a side-by-side of Y/N’s reactions to the yacht pictures and the moments when Harry was openly laughing about the past relationship with Kendall. Y/N’s discomfort was undeniable, and the video highlighted how it shifted from slight nervousness to visible unease.

His heart twisted, guilt washing over him. He should have noticed. He should have recognized the signs. But he hadn’t. And now it was too late.

<<<<<

Harry put his phone down, pacing the room for a moment as he tried to process everything. He needed to make things right. He knew he’d messed up, but he wasn’t sure how to fix it. All he could think of was the pain he might have caused Y/N, and how he’d been oblivious to her feelings.

When Y/N finally woke up, Harry was already out of bed, sitting at the edge of the room, his hands clasped together. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, trying to shake off the sleepiness. But as soon as she saw Harry, she knew something was wrong.

“Hey…” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Harry looked up at her, his expression full of regret. “Y/N, I—I saw the videos,” he started, his voice thick with emotion. “I saw how uncomfortable you were last night, and I… I feel awful. I should have noticed. I should’ve been there for you.”

Y/N sat up, glancing at him. Her face was still soft, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Harry. I should’ve said something during the interview.”

Harry shook his head, standing up and moving toward her. “No, Y/N. You shouldn’t have had to say anything. I should’ve been more aware. I’m so sorry for making you feel like that.”

Y/N reached out for his hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay, Harry. It was just…” She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “I don’t like seeing you talk about your past, especially not with her. It just… it made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry’s heart broke as he heard the hurt in her voice. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the tears that had started to fall. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. You mean everything to me. I never want you to feel like that again.”

Y/N nodded, her lips trembling slightly. “I know you didn’t mean it, Harry. I just needed some time to process it all.”

Harry leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here. And I’ll make sure I’m always aware of how you feel. I promise.”

The silence between them felt comforting, a quiet understanding passing between them. Harry held her close, his arms wrapped around her as they sat there, letting the weight of the moment settle. It wasn’t about the yacht, or the pictures, or any of the past—it was about the now, and the love they had for each other.

PART 2

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x insert #harry #styles #hs #h #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #fluff #angst #imagine #harry edward styles #one direction #one direction x reader #1d

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callsigns-haze · 25 days ago

Text

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments

Word count: 8.4k

The soft hum of Bradley’s Bronco pulling into the driveway was a familiar sound, one that always made your heart skip. You glanced at the clock on the wall—6:45 PM.

He was home right on time.

The winter sun had already set, leaving the house bathed in the warm glow of lamplight. The faint scent of chicken soup wafted from the kitchen, where you'd left a pot simmering, just in case Judy's cold appetite returned.

Anna was perched on the couch, her tiny legs swinging as she clutched one of her plush animals to her chest. "Daddy's home!" she exclaimed, leaping up and running to the front door with the kind of uncontainable excitement only a four-year-old could manage.

You heard the front door creak open and then Bradley’s voice, deep and familiar, “Where’s my Anna Banana?”

Anna squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the house as she threw herself into his waiting arms. Bradley lifted her easily, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Did you save me any trouble today, or were you full of mischief as usual?”

“Full of mischief!” Anna giggled, resting her head on his shoulder as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut with his boot.

"Of course you were," he teased with a smirk, glancing at you over her head. “Hey, hot stuff.”

“Hey,” you greeted, a soft smile spreading across your face as you leaned against the archway leading to the living room. “Dinner’s on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Perfect. I’ll grab a bite after I check on Judy.” He set Anna down gently, ruffling her curls before heading toward the living room, where Judy was sprawled on the couch.

Your oldest was curled up under a blanket, her nose a little red and a tissue box within arm’s reach, vomit bowl to the side. Her favourite Real Madrid hoodie hung loosely on her small frame, the oversized sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. Her eyes lit up, though, when she saw her stepdad walk in.

“Hey, Jude,” Bradley said softly, kneeling beside the couch. It always warmed your heart the way he said her nickname, a perfect blend of affection and playfulness.

“Hi, Roo,” she croaked, her voice raspy from the cold. She reached up to tug on the front of his uniform shirt. “Real Madrid won today. Bellingham scored again.”

Bradley chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “I heard. Kid’s on fire, huh?”

Judy nodded weakly but managed a small grin. “I told you he’s the best. But he still takes weird pictures sometimes.”

That made Bradley laugh, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. “Weird pictures or not, I think your dad would’ve loved hearing you talk about Real Madrid like this.”

Judy’s face softened, her smile widening slightly at the mention of her biological dad. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he said firmly. “Now, how about we make sure you’re taking care of yourself so you can get better and keep watching him score goals?”

Judy nodded, leaning into his touch as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Deal.”

From the hallway, Anna peeked in, clearly feeling left out. “Can I sit with Judy, too?”

Bradley turned his head and grinned. “If Judy’s okay with it, sure.”

Judy nodded, patting the spot beside her, and Anna climbed up eagerly, snuggling under the blanket with her big sister. Bradley stood, stretching slightly before heading back to you.

“How’s Theo?” he asked, his voice lowering so he wouldn’t wake the baby.

“Asleep, for now,” you replied, tilting your head toward the baby monitor on the counter. “He went down about thirty minutes ago. Let’s hope it sticks.”

Bradley grinned and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re too good, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing a hand along his arm. “Sure. Now, go eat before the soup gets cold.”

As Bradley settled into his chair at the dining table, you brought him a steaming bowl of soup. He murmured a quiet thanks before picking up his spoon, glancing at you as you moved to lean against the counter.

“How was work today?” he asked between bites, his warm brown eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Everything okay with you leaving early?”

You hesitated for just a moment, your hand brushing over the edge of the counter. “It’s fine,” you said casually, offering a small shrug. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Bradley frowned slightly, setting his spoon down for a moment. “You sure? That’s, what, the third time this week? Last week you had to take a couple of days off because of Anna, too.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Bradley, it’s no big deal. It’s not like we’re behind on anything. I had everything under control before I left.”

He tilted his head, studying you carefully. “That doesn’t mean you can't call me, you know.”

You pushed off the counter with a small laugh, brushing past him to gather up Anna’s pyjamas from a nearby basket. “I’m fine, Rooster. Seriously. It’s not like I’m doing it alone—you’ve been pulling your weight, too.”

His lips quirked up in a small, understanding smile, but he didn’t push. Instead, he returned to his meal, watching as you disappeared briefly into the living room to remind Anna about her bedtime routine.

“Annabelle,” you called, leaning over the back of the couch. “Fifteen minutes until you’re brushing your teeth. No nap today means an early bedtime, remember?”

“Okay, Mommy,” Anna replied with a sigh, snuggling closer to Judy under the blanket.

“And Judy,” you added, brushing a hand over Judy’s head, “I didn’t forget our deal—you can stay up a little later tonight, but only if you rest here for now, okay?”

Judy nodded with a tired but satisfied smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

You returned to the kitchen just as Bradley finished his bowl, pushing it aside with a satisfied sigh. “That hit the spot,” he said, standing to place the empty dish in the sink.

“Glad you liked it,” you said, leaning against the counter as he moved closer to you.

Bradley turned, placing his hands on either side of your waist, and gave you a thoughtful look. “Once all the kids are down for the night,” he said softly, his voice dipping to that warm, familiar tone he used when something was on his mind, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Your brows knit together in curiosity. “Oh?”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Yeah. Nothing bad, I promise. But… let’s get through bedtime first.”

Your lips curved up in a small smile as you leaned into him for a moment. “Alright, Bradshaw. But now you’ve got me wondering.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Patience, sweetheart.”

With that, he turned back toward the living room, his voice playful as he called out to Anna, “Alright, Bananas, let’s get those teeth brushed before your mom tells me I’m slacking.”

Anna’s giggles filled the house as she bolted from the living room, her tiny feet pattering up the stairs as Bradley’s playful growl followed closely behind.

“Anna Banana, you get back here!” he called, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he gave chase. “We’re brushing those teeth whether you like it or not!”

“You can’t catch me, Daddy!” she yelled between bursts of laughter, the sound so joyful it made you smile despite the exhaustion lingering from the day.

Shaking your head, you turned back to the kitchen and grabbed Bradley’s empty bowl from the table, rinsing it under warm water before adding it to the dishwasher. The soup pot still sat on the stove, its comforting aroma hanging in the air. You ladled the leftovers into a container, snapping the lid on before slipping it into the fridge.

Judy wouldn’t be eating any tonight—you knew her appetite was still weak from the cold. You sighed softly as you wiped down the counter, taking a moment to glance toward the baby monitor. Theo was still sound asleep, his soft snores faintly audible through the speaker. At least one of your kids was making bedtime easy tonight.

With the kitchen clean and quiet, you dried your hands and made your way to the living room, where Judy lay nestled under the blanket. Her Real Madrid hoodie was slightly bunched up, and her face was still flushed from her cold, but her eyes brightened when she saw you approaching.

“Hey, Judy bug,” you said gently, sinking down beside her. “You feeling okay?”

She nodded, scooting closer to you. “I’m just tired,” she admitted softly.

“I know,” you said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into your side. She fit perfectly against you, her small body warm and familiar. “But remember, we made a deal. You’re allowed to stay up a little longer, as long as you take it easy.”

Judy smiled faintly, leaning her head on your shoulder. “Thanks, Mom.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple, brushing some hair away from her face. “Anytime, Judy.”

For a few minutes, the house was quiet except for the distant sound of Bradley trying to wrangle Anna into brushing her teeth. You chuckled under your breath as Judy let out a small laugh.

“Rooster’s not very good at catching Anna,” she murmured, her voice raspy but amused.

“Nope,” you agreed, squeezing her gently. “But he’s trying his best.”

Judy’s giggle was soft but heartfelt, and you cherished the moment, knowing it wouldn’t be long before all three kids were asleep and the house finally settled into peace for the night.

Judy shifted against you as you tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her small hand reaching for the remote on the coffee table. The soft thud of Anna’s bedroom door closing upstairs brought a sense of relief; Bradley had clearly won the bedtime battle. You smiled to yourself, imagining how he’d probably managed to wrangle her into bed with one of his goofy voices or a quick rendition of a lullaby she insisted he sing.

From above, you heard the bathroom door open and the unmistakable sound of the shower turning on. That man earned his fifteen minutes of peace after chasing Anna around.

“What do you say we watch something before bed?” you asked, glancing down at Judy.

Her eyes lit up slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Can we watch The Grinch?”

“You’re still in a Christmas mood, huh?” you teased, but you didn’t mind. Judy had always loved the story, and it had become a tradition to watch it at least ten times every December.

She nodded, snuggling closer to your side as you leaned forward to grab the remote. It only took a few clicks before the familiar opening notes of The Grinch filled the room, and the glow of the television bathed the two of you in soft light.

As the movie started, you glanced down at Judy. Her eyes were focused on the screen, though you could tell she wasn’t quite as energetic as usual. Her cold was still zapping her strength, but she looked content, nestled under the blanket and leaning into you for warmth.

The two of you sat quietly, watching as the Grinch made his first grouchy appearance. Judy chuckled faintly at his antics, her laugh muffled by the blanket she’d half-pulled over her face.

Upstairs, you could still hear the shower running, the steady hum of water a comforting backdrop to the cozy moment. It was one of those rare evenings where, despite the chaos of the day, everything felt peaceful—just you and your daughter, sharing a quiet moment together while Bradley unwound upstairs.

You let out a soft sigh of contentment, wrapping your arm a little tighter around Judy. Nights like this, you thought, were what made all the hard days worth it.

As the Grinch grumbled on screen about Christmas cheer, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a call from work. You sighed, glancing at the number. It wasn’t unusual for work to call after hours, but it still pulled you out of the cozy moment with Judy.

Judy turned her head toward you, her brows furrowing. “Mom, do you have to go?” she asked softly, her voice still scratchy from her cold.

You gave her a reassuring smile and smoothed her hair back. “No, bug, I’m not going anywhere. I just need to take this call, okay? Roo will be downstairs in a couple of minutes. Can you hold tight until then?”

She nodded, though she still looked a little disappointed. “Okay.”

You kissed her forehead before standing and grabbing your coat from the rack by the door. Wrapping it around your shoulders, you stepped onto the front porch, the cold night air biting against your skin. The faint scent of pine from the wreath on the door lingered, and you pulled your coat tighter as you tapped to accept the call.

“This is YN,” you answered, your breath puffing in the chilly air.

The person on the other end quickly launched into their reason for calling—some minor crisis involving a data set that had apparently gone haywire. You listened intently, nodding even though they couldn’t see you, while mentally sorting through solutions.

As you paced the porch, the front door opened, and Bradley stepped out, fresh from his shower. His damp hair was tousled, and he’d pulled on a well-worn hoodie and sweatpants. He glanced at you curiously, then stepped back inside, letting the door click shut behind him.

A few moments later, you wrapped up the call, offering quick instructions and assurances that you’d look at the problem first thing in the morning. You hung up and exhaled deeply, allowing the crisp night air to clear your thoughts.

When you stepped back inside, Bradley was in the living room, crouched next to Judy. He’d wrapped an arm around her, his other hand resting on the blanket tucked snugly around her. Judy looked a little brighter already, smiling up at him as she pointed something out on the screen.

Bradley looked up as you closed the door, his warm eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment.

You nodded, offering him a tired smile. “Crisis averted. Thanks for stepping in.”

“Anytime,�� he said, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “Come sit. We saved your spot.”

The warmth in his voice and the sight of your little family waiting for you melted the tension from your shoulders. You slipped off your coat, letting it fall onto the back of a chair, and joined them, ready to soak in the rest of the evening.

As the Grinch continued plotting on the screen, you noticed Judy start to rub her eyes. Her head had begun to droop a little, and not long after, she let out a soft yawn.

Bradley, ever observant, caught it instantly. A teasing grin spread across his face as he looked down at her. “Uh-oh,” he said dramatically, “sounds like someone’s ready for bed. What do you think, Judy? Time to head upstairs?”

Judy’s head shot up, her tired eyes narrowing as she frowned at him. “No, it’s not! My bedtime’s 8:30, and it’s only 8!”

“Hmm,” Bradley drawled, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. “I don’t know. That yawn says otherwise.”

“It doesn’t count!” Judy protested, sitting up straighter and fixing him with her best determined glare. “I’m not tired. I can stay up for The Grinch. You promised!”

Bradley chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’ve got until 8:30. But if I catch you yawning again, we might have to renegotiate.”

Judy crossed her arms, trying to look serious but failing as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re so dramatic, Rooster.”

“Me? Dramatic?” he asked, feigning offense. “I’m just concerned about your beauty sleep, Jude. I’m looking out for you.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but you could see the playful affection in her expression. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Bradley laughed, pulling her close and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s me. But you love me anyway.”

She snuggled back against him with a small huff, her earlier defiance fading as she relaxed into his side. You watched the exchange with a smile, your heart full at the sight of their bond.

Bradley caught your gaze and gave you a wink, his hand resting gently on Judy’s shoulder. You could tell he was savouring the moment as much as you were.

Judy had just settled against Bradley’s side, her eyes fluttering back toward the screen, when he lightly placed his hand on her forehead. The smile on his face faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern.

“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, tilting his head to get a better look at her. “You’re feeling a little warm. Are you okay?”

Judy blinked up at him, her brows furrowing as if she hadn’t noticed it herself. “I think so,” she murmured, but then a raspy cough escaped her, and her body tensed.

You immediately perked up, your eyes scanning her face as she began coughing harder. “Judy?” you asked, worry creeping into your tone.

Before she could answer, her hand shot to her mouth, her face paling. Instinct kicked in, and you grabbed the bowl you’d left on the floor beside the couch earlier, knowing her appetite had been off all day.

“Here, sweetie,” you said gently, holding the bowl just in time as Judy leaned forward, the cough turning into a small heave.

Bradley’s arm stayed securely around her, his other hand moving to rub her back as she threw up into the bowl. His voice was soft and steady as he murmured, “It’s okay, Jude. Just breathe, baby girl. We’ve got you.”

You crouched beside them, one hand resting on Judy’s knee as you watched her closely. It didn’t last long, but her little body trembled with the effort, and when she finally leaned back, her face was flushed, and her eyes glassy with exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered weakly, her voice barely above a rasp.

“Oh, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, brushing a hand over her hair as Bradley wiped her mouth gently with the tissue you handed him.

“She’s burning up,” Bradley said quietly, concern etched into his voice as he pressed another hand to her forehead.

You nodded, already moving to grab a cool cloth from the kitchen. “Let’s get her cooled down and check her temperature again,” you said, your mind shifting into problem-solving mode.

Judy leaned heavily against Bradley’s chest, her small frame dwarfed by his protective embrace. “Daddy,” she croaked, her voice barely audible, “I don’t wanna be sick anymore.”

She rarely called him dad, but that was something else.

“I know, Jude,” Bradley said softly, his hand brushing over her hair. “I know. We’re going to take care of you, okay? Just rest for now.”

Judy’s little body eventually gave out from the exhaustion, her head lolling against Bradley’s chest as her breathing evened out into soft snores. You exchanged a quick glance with Bradley, nodding silently toward the stairs.

“I’ll grab the bucket,” you whispered, standing up and heading to the bathroom while he carefully adjusted Judy in his arms.

Bradley lifted her as if she weighed nothing, his large hands supporting her back and legs as he rose from the couch. He cradled her close, his steps slow and deliberate as he started up the stairs, making sure not to jostle her. The soft sound of her breathing mixed with the creak of the floorboards, and it tugged at your heart how small she looked in his arms.

By the time you reached Judy’s room, Bradley was gently laying her down on her bed, taking care to arrange her blankets so she was snug but not too warm. He brushed a hand over her hair, his thumb grazing her forehead again as he sighed quietly.

“She’s still a little warm,” he murmured.

You nodded, setting the bucket beside her bed within easy reach. “I’ll check her temperature again in a couple of hours, just to be sure.”

As you adjusted the bucket, Bradley glanced back at you, his brow furrowed. “She got sick last night too?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was because she decided to have hot chocolate fifteen minutes before bed. She didn’t even tell me until after she’d already made it.”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t hear a thing. She got sick, and I didn’t wake up?”

You smirked, placing a hand on your hip as you teased, “Roo, you’d sleep through a literal earthquake.”

He let out a soft chuckle, though there was a flicker of guilt in his expression. “Guess I need to work on that. I hate that you were dealing with this by yourself.”

You shrugged, brushing it off lightly. “It wasn’t too bad. Besides, the real fun was earlier today.”

Bradley straightened, his concern sharpening. “What happened?”

You sighed, leaning against the doorway. “She got sick at school. They called me about an hour after I got to work, so I had to come home early to pick her up. She’s been pretty out of it since. I tried feeding her soup earlier, but that didn’t go well either.”

Bradley exhaled deeply, his hands on his hips as he glanced back at Judy, who was now sound asleep, her face still slightly flushed. “Poor kid,” he murmured, running a hand through his damp hair. “She’s had a rough day.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, stepping closer to him. “But at least she’s getting some rest now.”

Bradley nodded, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. “You’ve been handling all of this like a champ. Seriously, YN.”

You smiled at him, leaning into his touch. “We’re a team, remember? You’ll take the next round if she wakes up again tonight.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smile, his eyes flicking back to Judy one last time before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked back downstairs with Bradley, the weight of the evening’s events still hung in the air, but your mind wandered back to his earlier words—I have something to tell you. You gave him a curious look as you both stepped into the kitchen, where he leaned casually against the counter, though there was an unmistakable tension in his posture.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the opposite counter. “What’s this big thing you wanted to talk about?”

Bradley exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that instantly made you wary. He was stalling. “Alright, don’t freak out,” he started, his eyes flicking to yours. “But there’s a chance we might be moving again… before the end of December.”

You stared at him, utterly floored. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. “I wish I was.”

“Bradley,” you said, your voice rising slightly in disbelief, “we’ve only been in this house for three months. Three months! And it’s almost Christmas! How are we supposed to pack up and leave—again?”

He winced at the exasperation in your tone, holding up his hands defensively. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about the timing either. But I think this might be the last time. I mean it.”

You raised a sceptical eyebrow. “That’s what you said the last two moves. And the time before that.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I know. But this is different. I got a call about going back to Top Gun—to San Diego. They need me there, and they’re offering some stability. A more permanent position, YN. I’d be working with my old crew again, the same people I did the uranium mission with.”

You blinked at him, your mind spinning. “San Diego?” you echoed, trying to process the implications. “Bradley, we’ve moved five times in the last four years because of your job. Every time, it’s been the same story—‘this is the last one, we’ll settle down here.’ How can you be sure this time?”

“I can’t be sure,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “But I know how much we’ve been through, and I know what I’m asking isn’t easy. But Top Gun feels like home to me. The team, the work—it’s different there. It’s something I know I can grow with long-term.”

You stared at him, still feeling blindsided. “And you think we can do this in the middle of the holidays? We’d have to uproot the kids—again. Judy’s been sick, and Anna just started getting comfortable here.”

“I know it’s asking a lot,” he said, stepping closer and placing his hands on your arms. “But I think San Diego could be a real chance for us. The base there is more stable, and I wouldn’t be deploying as much. I’d be home more—for you, for the kids.”

Your shoulders sagged as you took in his words. You wanted to believe him, but the exhaustion of endless moves, the packing, unpacking, and constant uncertainty weighed heavily on you.

“And this is all happening before the end of December?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Bradley nodded, his expression apologetic. “There’s still a lot to figure out, but yeah. They need me soon. I just… I wanted to talk to you about it first. I wouldn’t make this decision without you.”

You let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. “Bradley, this is a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded again, squeezing your arms gently. “I know it is. Take some time to think about it, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts still racing, but you couldn’t ignore the sincerity in his eyes—or the hope. Despite the upheaval it would cause, he truly believed this could be the fresh start you both needed. But whether or not you were ready to believe that too, you weren’t so sure.

You stared at Bradley, the frustration rising in your chest as the weight of his words truly sank in. Shaking your head, you stepped back from his grasp and crossed your arms tightly.

“Bradley, I’m going to say this right now—I’m not moving until after New Year’s,” you said firmly, your voice steady but resolute. “I refuse to spend Christmas in some lousy halfway spot, surrounded by boxes, trying to keep the kids from falling apart. It’s not happening.”

His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to respond, but you kept going, your emotions spilling out in waves.

“This constant moving isn’t just exhausting—it’s unhealthy for the kids. Anna’s finally settling in here. She’s starting to make friends, and she’s getting used to the house. Judy’s already switched schools enough for a lifetime. It’s not fair to her to have to keep doing this over and over. She’s nine, Bradley! I thought mine and her fathers job at the start would make her need to move so much but truly it didn't. She needs stability, not a new classroom every year.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he tried to meet your gaze. “I know it’s hard, YN—”

“No,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t know how hard it is, Bradley. You’re not the one managing school forms, paediatricians, or trying to help Judy settle in after every single move. You’re not the one cleaning up puke when she gets so stressed she makes herself sick. And on top of that, I have my own job to think about. Do you have any idea how much of a nightmare it is to move space labs? Or how hard it is to get rehired in the same field every time we relocate? What if they don’t even take me this time?”

He frowned, guilt flickering in his expression. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Bradley,” you said, your voice softening but still firm. “You didn’t think. You’re chasing stability for yourself, and I get that. I do. But what about us? What about the kids? What about me?”

Bradley ran a hand down his face, clearly grappling with your words. “I thought this would be a good opportunity for all of us,” he admitted quietly. “I thought… maybe it could finally be the place where we can put down roots.”

You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “If you want to go, fine. Go set things up. But I’m not uprooting this family in the middle of the holidays. The kids deserve a Christmas in a real home, not in a house we haven’t even unpacked yet. And I’m not putting them—or myself—through another rushed move until we know this is going to work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he absorbed your words. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice low. “We’ll wait until after New Year’s. I’ll talk to them, figure out a timeline that works.”

Relief washed over you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty still lingering in the air. You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I need you to understand, Bradley. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s all of us. And I can’t keep putting the kids—and myself—through this. And I will go insane if I'll be in another motel for weeks.”

“I get it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I do. I just… I want to make this work. For all of us.”

You nodded, your gaze steady. “Then let’s figure it out. But after the holidays.”

Bradley’s arms stayed wrapped around you, but as you rested against him, he gently pulled back, his eyes scanning your face with quiet concern. He tilted his head slightly, his voice soft but pointed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his tone both curious and insistent.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his again. You’d been holding back, trying to push through for the sake of the evening, but he clearly wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Honestly?” you said, exhaling deeply. “It’s not fine with me that you’re thinking of leaving so soon—especially after I had to miss work last week. I’ve already taken so much time off between Anna being sick, Judy needing to come home early, and everything else. I’m exhausted, Bradley. I’ve had enough.”

His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms. “Then why didn’t you just say that when I asked earlier?”

You bit your lip, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because I wasn’t about to argue in front of Judy and Anna,” you said sharply. “They’ve already been through enough tonight. Judy doesn’t need to hear us going back and forth on top of being sick with cruel stomach décor, and Anna’s finally getting settled. I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took in your words. “I get that,” he said softly. “But, YN, I need you to tell me these things. You don’t have to hold it in just to keep the peace.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice quieter now, “but I’m just… tired, Bradley. I don’t feel like moving again. Not until March at the earliest. I’m not ready to pack up, to sort through everything, to start over—again.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening as he processed your words. “You feel like you’ve hit your limit,” he said, more a statement than a question.

“Exactly,” you admitted, your shoulders sagging. “I’ve hit my limit. The idea of boxing up this house, pulling the kids out of their routine, and throwing myself into another round of uncertainty—it’s exhausting just thinking about it. I’m not bothered to pack up again right now. I need time.”

Bradley was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your arm as he considered his response. “March,” he repeated, nodding slowly. “Alright. We can make that work. I’ll let them know we need more time.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for. If March feels right, then that’s what we’ll aim for.”

Relief washed over you, though a small part of you still felt the weight of what lay ahead. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He pulled you back into his arms, holding you close. “We’ll figure this out,” he promised.

Before you could fully relax into Bradley’s embrace, your phone buzzed again on the counter, cutting through the quiet. You sighed, reluctantly pulling away to check the screen. It was another call from work.

“I should take this,” you muttered, already swiping to answer.

Bradley leaned against the counter, watching you closely as you murmured into the phone, your tone professional but clearly laced with frustration. He caught snippets—something about deadlines, a meeting you couldn’t miss, and some last-minute chaos that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.

When you finally hung up, you turned back to him, running a hand through your hair. “Looks like I’ll be driving down overnight,” you said with a resigned sigh. “I’ve got an early morning meeting anyway, and at this rate, I’ll barely get any sleep if I wait until tomorrow to leave.”

Bradley straightened, his brows knitting together. “Overnight? YN, that’s going to be rough. Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

You shrugged, already mentally planning the drive. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get there before the day starts, and I won’t have to stress about being late.”

He crossed his arms, his concern clear. “I’ve got the day off work tomorrow. I’ll stay here and take care of the kids. You focus on work.”

You blinked at him, a little surprised. “You have the day off?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stepping closer. “I’ll handle everything here. Judy’s already home sick, so I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure Anna and Theo are good too. You don’t need to worry about anything on this end.”

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, and you nodded, grateful for his support. “Okay,” you said softly. “Thanks, Bradley.”

He gave you a small smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Just drive safe, alright? And text me when you get there.”

“I will,” you promised, leaning into his touch for a brief moment before pulling back to start gathering your things. As much as you hated the overnight drive, knowing Bradley would hold down the fort at home made it a little easier to handle.

Bradley climbed the stairs quietly, his mind still on your late-night drive and the conversation the two of you had just shared. But as he passed Judy’s room, a soft, raspy voice caught his attention.

“I don’t mind moving,” she said, her tone small but clear.

He stopped in his tracks, leaning slightly toward the open doorway. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped inside, spotting Judy sitting up in bed, her blanket pulled up to her chest.

“Well, well,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Sounds to me like someone’s been eavesdropping.”

Judy’s cheeks flushed a little, but she gave him a defiant look, crossing her arms over her blanket. “It’s not eavesdropping, Roo. It’s overhearing. There’s a difference.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, fighting back a chuckle as he walked over to her bed. “Oh, there’s a difference, huh?” he teased, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Pretty sure your mom wouldn’t see it that way. She’d probably have my head if she knew you were listening.”

Judy smiled slyly, leaning back against her pillows. “Good thing she’s not here to find out.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re a smart one, Jude, I’ll give you that. But seriously—what are you doing awake? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

She shrugged, fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “I just… I heard you guys talking, and I wanted to know what was going on. Are we really moving again?”

Bradley sighed, his teasing expression softening. “It’s a possibility,” he admitted. “But nothing’s set in stone yet. Your mom and I are still figuring things out.”

Judy looked down at her hands, quiet for a moment. “I don’t mind moving,” she said again, her voice softer now. “I mean, I like it here, but… if it makes you and Mom happy, I’ll be okay.”

His heart swelled at her words, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

She smiled shyly, her eyes still on her lap. “I try.”

Bradley leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Now get some sleep, okay? And no more overhearing—or eavesdropping—or whatever you want to call it.”

“Fine,” she murmured, already snuggling back into her blanket. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Judy,” he said softly, standing and turning off her bedside lamp before heading to the door. As he glanced back, she was already drifting off, her little body relaxed and peaceful.

Bradley stepped quietly into Theo’s room, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm hue over the small space. Theo was curled up in his crib, his chest rising and falling in the rhythmic breaths of deep sleep.

Bradley leaned over the crib, brushing his fingers lightly over Theo’s soft hair. Despite his hesitation, he decided it might be best to have him closer tonight, especially with you driving through the night. Carefully, he slipped his arms under Theo and lifted him, cradling the boy against his chest. Theo stirred slightly but didn’t wake, settling back into his father’s embrace with a soft sigh.

Bradley carried him down the hallway to your shared bedroom. The portable baby mattress was already set up near the bed, and he gently placed Theo down, adjusting the blankets around him. The little boy stretched briefly, then fell back into his peaceful sleep.

Bradley crouched for a moment, watching him, his expression soft with affection. He reached out, tucking the blanket a little more securely before standing.

Moving quietly, Bradley made his way to the small desk tucked into the corner of the room. He sat down heavily in the chair, his elbows resting on the desk as he ran a hand down his face. The day—and the conversations—were catching up with him.

As Bradley sat at the small desk, the quiet hum of the house surrounding him, he pulled out his phone. The group chat with the Dagger Squad lit up with unread messages, the notifications buzzing intermittently.

Payback: So, Rooster, you coming back after New Year’s or what?

Coyote: Yeah, man, don’t leave us hanging. You know Hangman’s already bragging about how he’ll outfly all of us again.

Hangman: Correction, Coyote. I will outfly you all. Don’t need Rooster to confirm that. But hey, Rooster, don’t be scared now—you coming or not?

Bob: It’d be good to have you back, Rooster.

Fanboy: Yeah, you’re part of the team, man. We’re counting on you to bring the mustache magic.

Bradley smirked, shaking his head at their banter. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating how to respond.

Phoenix: Give him a break, guys. He’ll let us know when he can.

He hesitated. Phoenix was the only one who knew about his life outside the Navy—his wife, his kids, the constant balancing act he’d been navigating. He hadn’t told the others, not because he didn’t trust them, but because it never felt like the right time. Now, with their texts pressing him for a commitment, the weight of his promise to you settled heavily on his shoulders.

He’d agreed to wait until after the New Year to move the family, but they didn’t need to know that. If he got sent to Top Gun temporarily for a few days, it wouldn’t disrupt the plan too much—would it? He could handle a few days away, fulfil the request, and be back before you’d even finished packing the decorations away.

But then again, keeping this from you didn’t sit right with him. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he considered his reply.

Rooster: I’ll let you guys know soon. Still working a few things out on my end.

The responses came quickly.

Coyote: Come on, man, you know you wanna fly with the big boys again.

Hangman: “Working things out” sounds like code for chicken. You scared, Rooster?

Fanboy: Ignore him. We’re looking forward to having you back.

Bradley stared at the screen, his mind torn. He knew how much they wanted him back—and if he was honest, he missed flying with them, too. But you had made your stance clear. You didn’t want the chaos of a rushed move or the disruption to your family’s routine, and he couldn’t ignore how much you’d already sacrificed for his career.

The only one who truly understood the bind he was in was Phoenix, and as if on cue, another message from her popped up in the group chat.

Phoenix: Don’t rush it, Rooster. We’ve got time.

Bradley sighed, grateful for her subtle support. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation when the time came to tell you he’d been sent down for even a short stint. For now, though, he tucked the phone away, deciding to deal with it when—and if—it became official.

As you parked your car outside the lab, the faint buzz of your phone caught your attention. You glanced at the screen, seeing a text from Bradley pop up.

Rooster: Hey, just got an email—orders came through. I have to head back to Top Gun the day after New Year’s. Just for a few days to test some equipment.

You frowned, your fingers lingering over the steering wheel. He’d softened the blow, but the sting of his words remained. After all the back and forth, the long conversations, and the arguments about waiting until the New Year to avoid uprooting everything again, this felt like a sudden change. Still, you trusted him—if it was orders, there wasn’t much he could do.

A follow-up text arrived moments later.

Rooster: How was the drive? Everything okay? All the kids are down for the night. Theo didn’t even wake up when I brought him to our room. Judy’s still coughing a little but sound asleep. Let me know when you get a moment.

You sighed, the tension from the late-night drive mingling with the unresolved frustration of the past few days. Pushing it aside for now, you texted back quickly.

You: Drive was fine. Thanks for holding down the fort. I’ll call you in a minute.

Pulling your coat tighter, you stepped outside the car and dialled him. The phone rang twice before his familiar voice answered.

“Hey,” Bradley greeted, his tone warm but careful. “How’s it going? You get there okay?”

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice steady. “Just parked. You said you got orders?”

There was a pause, just a fraction too long to go unnoticed, but he recovered quickly. “Yeah, it came through just a little while ago. Email straight from command,” he said, keeping his tone light. “It’s not a big deal, just a quick trip to test some new equipment. A few days, tops.”

You pressed your lips together, glancing up at the dimly lit lab building. “Funny how that just popped up, considering we were arguing about moving a couple of hours ago.”

He sighed, the sound crackling faintly through the line. “I know the timing sucks, but this isn’t about the move. It’s just work. You know how it is—they send orders, I follow them. It’s out of my hands.”

You leaned against the car, the cold seeping through your coat. “And it couldn’t wait until after we decided?”

“Apparently not,” he replied, his tone still soft. “They want it done now to prep for upcoming missions. It’s not permanent, YN. Just a few days, and then I’ll be back.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. His explanation was logical, but a part of you still bristled. “It just feels sudden, that’s all,” you admitted. “After everything we talked about, it feels like the Navy’s always pulling the rug out from under us.”

“I get it,” he said gently. “I really do. But I promise I’ll make it as smooth as possible for you and the kids. And hey, once it’s done, we can refocus on everything here. I’ll help with the packing, with the kids—whatever you need.”

You exhaled slowly, the initial frustration easing slightly. “Alright,” you said finally. “If it’s orders, it’s orders. Just… don’t keep me in the dark about anything else, okay?”

“I won’t,” Bradley said quickly. “Promise.”

“Okay,” you murmured, glancing toward the building. “I should head in. Thanks for calling to let me know.”

“No problem,” he replied, his voice warm again. “Drive safe when you head back, alright? And don’t work too hard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a faint smile before ending the call.

As you walked into the lab, a flicker of doubt lingered in the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside. He wouldn’t lie about something like this—or so you believed.

Bradley sat back in the chair at his small desk, the glow of his phone screen casting a faint light across the darkened room. The group chat with the Dagger Squad had gone quiet for now, but his mind was racing. He hated lying to you, especially after the hard conversations you’d had tonight, but what unsettled him more was the creeping realization of how deep this would go.

A soft creak at the door pulled his attention, and he looked up to see Anna standing there, her favourite blankie draped over her shoulder and her teddy bear clutched tightly in her small hands.

“Daddy?” she whispered, her voice soft and sleepy.

Bradley immediately put his phone down, his heart squeezing at the sight of her. “Hey, Anna Banana. What’s wrong, baby girl?”

She padded over to him, her bare feet barely making a sound on the floor. “I had a bad dream,” she said, her bottom lip sticking out just a little as she rubbed her eyes.

“Come here,” Bradley said gently, holding out his arms. Anna climbed onto his lap without hesitation, curling against his chest as he wrapped his arms securely around her. Her blanket and teddy got squished between them, but she didn’t seem to mind.

He swayed gently in the chair, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

Anna nodded sleepily, her head resting against his shoulder. “Are you going away again, Daddy?” she asked suddenly, her voice muffled.

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice thick. “But only for a little while, baby. Just a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Anna pulled back just enough to look at him, her big, earnest eyes shining in the dim light. “But why? I don’t like when you go away.”

Bradley forced a small smile, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “I know, Banana. I don’t like leaving you either. But it’s part of my job, and I promise I’ll be home really soon.”

“Promise?” she whispered, holding up her pinky.

He hesitated for only a second before linking his pinky with hers. “Promise.”

Anna seemed satisfied with that, her little hand relaxing as she tucked herself back against his chest. He held her close, guilt gnawing at him. He hated that he was lying to her, too—that he wasn’t going because of orders but because of his own decision to go back to Top Gun for reasons he hadn’t fully shared.

Her small breaths began to even out, and Bradley knew she was falling back asleep. He carried her to the bed you both kept in your room for when the kids had restless nights, tucking her in with her blankie and teddy. She didn’t stir as he pulled the covers up around her.

As he returned to his desk, he stared down at his phone, the unanswered questions and unspoken truths weighing heavily on him. For a moment, he considered calling you again—coming clean about everything—but the fear of how you’d react kept his finger from pressing the button.

Bradley sat back down at his desk, the soft glow of his phone screen illuminating his conflicted expression. He glanced over his shoulder at Anna, curled up peacefully with her blankie and teddy in the bed. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a soothing rhythm, but the weight in his own chest didn’t lift.

He turned his gaze back to the group chat with the Dagger Squad, their earlier messages still sitting there, waiting for his response. He could hear their voices in his head—Payback's good-natured ribbing, Hangman’s cocky taunts, Phoenix’s steady, knowing tone.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard, hesitation coursing through him. You trusted him. Anna trusted him. But here he was, about to step back into the world he thought he’d left behind for good.

With a deep breath, he began typing.

Rooster: I’ll be there.

The replies were immediate, the chat lighting up in a flurry of responses.

Coyote: Knew you couldn’t resist!

Payback: Finally, the squad’s back together.

Hangman: About time, Bradshaw. I was starting to think you’d gone soft.

Phoenix: Good to have you back, Rooster.

Bradley leaned back in his chair, letting their messages blur together. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as he reread his text. He hadn’t even said it out loud yet, but sending that message felt like crossing a line he couldn’t uncross.

He locked his phone and rubbed his hands over his face, the quiet of the room pressing down on him. This decision wasn’t just about him—it was about you, the kids, the life you’d built together. And yet, here he was, making a choice that might shake the foundation of it all.

For now, he’d focus on the days ahead. He’d handle the fallout later, even if it meant confronting the disappointment in your eyes when you found out.

Part 2

A/n: Maybe this is a mini series concept....

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

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augustinewrites · 2 years ago

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“i’ve got the ice cream!” gojo announces as he steps into the apartment.

despite the urgency conveyed over his call with you, not a soul appears to greet him like the hero that he is. instead, he’s greeted by the perked ears and alert looks of four shikigami wolves lounging under the sun rays stretched across the kitchen floor.

he carefully steps over them to grab four spoons. “where are your summoners?”

your dogs tilt their heads, pretending not to understand him. megumi’s puppies don’t even bother with pretending, turning around and setting their fluffy bottoms down with a huff.

“useless animals,” he scoffs, venturing into the apartment to look for everyone.

he eventually finds the three of you in the bedroom, you and tsumiki cuddling in bed watching some chick-flick while megumi reads in the armchair.

“finally,” you grin when you see him, pausing the film to take the bag and spoons from his hands. “thank you.”

“what’s going on here?” he asks as you distribute ice cream pints and spoons.

“tsumiki didn’t say “i love you” back to her boyfriend,” megumi quips, his sister throwing a pillow and a glare in his direction.

gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, but you only send him a pleading look.

“well,” he starts, sitting on the edge of the bed. “love is a big emotion, kid. it can take a long time to develop, or sometimes you just know like that,” he says, snapping his fingers.

“how long did it take you two to say it?”

this time when he looks at you, you look away. you hate how much he loves this story.

he can’t help the giddy feeling fluttering in his chest.

“you tell her,” you mutter.

“why? you were the one who said it first. it also led to our first kiss remember?”

“and as i recall, you didn’t say you loved me back right away.”

ah, you never fail to remind him.

“i didn’t get the chance. you just started kissing me and tearing my clothes off. then you immediately dragged me into bed and had your way with me,” he recalls, sighing dreamily as megumi covers his ears.

“i did not kiss you first,” you argue, like you always do. “i don’t kiss on first dates!”

“you did that night.”

“no, i said that i loved you, and then you kissed me.”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. he supposes that first kiss had been over nearly ten years ago, he couldn’t really fault you for forgetting. he didn’t even remember what he’d had for breakfast this morning.

“alright, you win,” he relents, shuffling up the bed to sit against the headboard, pulling you into his chest and kissing your temple.

_____

his first date with you ends up being five years after he meets you.

by then, he’d already known he loved you. hell, some deep, subconscious part of him had known since he was seventeen years old.

so, two years after he’d made a deal with your father, he asked you on a date.

the date goes well. a nice dinner at a nice restaurant in roppongi, followed by a movie in the apartment you’d eventually move into. he’d successfully put his arm around you and leaned in to tell jokes that’d made you laugh.

being with you has always been easy, even back then. there’s no awkwardness on your first date, just the blossoming feeling of something exciting and new growing between you.

(because you were in love with him too.)

“i should head home,” you sigh around 11pm, moving to lift your head from where it’s been laying against his shoulder. “i have lesson plans to prep for next week.”

“don’t go,” he’s quick to insist. “stay. i have two spare rooms. i already have one set up for you.”

you look at him for a moment, like you’re seeing him for the first time. “you do?”

“i wasn’t going to make you go home by yourself in the middle of the night,” he shrugs, averting his gaze and feeling shy all of a sudden.

“i don’t have any clothes—”

“just wear something of mine.”

that was mistake number one, because when you’d come out of the bathroom wearing one of his shirts, he’s still pretty sure he’d blacked out for a second.

mistake number two was staying up late, chatting. this wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, but for some reason that night had felt…intimate. you’d had your legs in his lap, illuminated by the faint glow of the television as you chatted.

mistake number three was helping you walk to the spare room, an arm looped around your sleepy figure as you leaned into him.

he still remembers the way his heart had been thumping loudly in his chest as you gazed up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “goodnight,” you murmured. “i love you.”

he’d stood there, blinking uselessly as he watched realization pass over your face. “satoru…”

he says your name back, suddenly terrified. he remembers how the fear seized his heart, because all at once, you’d become someone he could lose. he has a history of people leaving. whether it was by choice or not, it always hurt. he wants you so badly, but he also knows that losing you would break him.

it must be written all over his face, these unsaid fears and hesitations that were plaguing his mind. that was when you’d stepped forward and gently cupped the sides of his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

______

“sometimes you just know when you love someone,” you tell tsumiki, brushing some stray hairs from her face. “i don’t really know how to explain it.”

“it’s just a feeling,” gojo agrees, still looking at you. “a pretty great one, that leads to even greater things of you give it a chance.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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creepswrites · 5 months ago

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TIRED OF RUNNING | Sinclairs x Reader

YET ANOTHER REWRITE i have no idea why Tired of Running is so popular but i've always been proud of it :) the original can be read here but i will be rewriting all existing chapters to finish it!!

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work. "They got kids."

WARNING: mentioned child abuse

Sighing, you hit your head on the wheel with an exhausted groan. The Louisiana heat had been suffocating you ever since the AC sputtered to nothing a few hours ago. You'd left the windows open to prevent frying the inside of the car but it was still too hot. Even after living here for a few years, you never got used to the heat. It was fall for god's sake…

You lifted your head and tried to blink back the drowsiness aching behind your eyes. Driving for a week now had exhausted you and the heat wasn't doing you any favors. Everything felt warm and sleepy, making it difficult to focus on the road. A glance at your gas tank only made you groan. Nearly empty tank with no cell phone reception and two kids to take care of.

Speaking of kids, you glanced at the rearview mirror. Your twin boys - Peter and Michael - were passed out in their carseats and dead to the world. They were good kids, rarely fussy, and full of energy. They were why you'd been on the road for so long. You'd fled home with whatever belongings you could pack in your car and never looked back. Seeing their peaceful faces reminded you that it had been the right decision. Watching your ex husband strike Mikey for "misbehaving" had been your last straw. They were only two years old and he expected them to just simply know what behaviors were acceptable without teaching them anything.

He'd been the one who wanted kids yet showed no real interest in parenting. That had all been on you.

Which led you to where you were: off a dirt backroad in the middle of nowhere with the sun setting in an hour. If it had just been you, you would have sucked it up and walked to the nearest town in search of help. But with two toddlers, the feat seemed impossible. You didn't want them getting lost or hurt in the dark with no way of you helping them.

You got out of the car to survey your situation. The road you were on was mainly dirt and not well traveled. You hadn't even been certain they were roads if not for the signs just before you'd turned. Grass grew in wild, untamed patches and stretched out into a field to your left while the forest was close to your right. The trees offered minimal shade but were better than nothing. At least it was cooler under them instead of your hot car. But the prospect of sleeping in the dirt didn't sit well with you. Who knows what animals were even out there.

You pressed the heel of your hands to your eyes and tried not to cry. This was absolutely the worst possible thing that could have happened. If your husband was following you, which he most certainly was, then it was only a matter of time until he found you.

So you slid down the side of your car to sit against the wheel and curl in on yourself. It had been awhile since you cried since your husband would slap you for it, threatening to give you something to really cry about. You'd only withstood the abuse for so long because you didn't want Peter and Mikey to grow up in broken homes. But after you noticed they were being hit, you couldn't stay still. It had still been hard and you kept second guessing yourself all week if you were doing the right thing.

Hopefully you were.

A few hours passed before your luck changed. The sun had just begun to set, painting the skies in pinks and purples like a beautiful watercolor painting. It was finally cooler out now too, the breeze brushing your arms and face periodically. You'd just finished feeding the boys whatever food you had left in the duffle bags still and had decided to let them play in the little clearing nearby. You'd all been cooped up in your tiny car for days and you could tell they needed a break. They promised to stay close to you, running around nearby with sticks and their toys. Peter roared, running up to you with a tiny blue T-rex in hand. "'m gon' eat you!" He giggled.

You scooped him up and held him in your lap, watching his brother poking at the dirt with a stick. "Mikey, don't wander too far okay?"

Mikey didn't answer and you sighed. He always had problems listening, always content to drift off in his own world without a second thought. You'd read a book about childhood trauma and worried about Mikey sometimes. You stood up and were about to approach him when you heard the sound of a car rumbling. You'd never understood the phrase "your life flashes before your eyes" but in that moment you did. "Mikey!" You shouted, white-hot horror shooting through you. "Peter, get in the car!"

As soon as Peter squirmed out of your arms, you shot off like a rocket towards Mikey. His wide, terrified eyes were trained on the car headlights, which felt like a spotlight as you picked him up. The ground was illuminated with bright white light, making it impossible to hide from whoever this was. You practically threw Mikey into the car, slamming the door behind him and locking them inside.

The truck came to a stop and you faced it, squeezed your eyes tight, and prepared for the worst.

You heard the sound of the car door open and you turned to face the figure. When he finally stepped into the light, you nearly cried from relief. It wasn't your ex nor any of his friends. You felt your knees give out as a sob wracked your body, the adrenaline crash hitting you hard.

"Woah, woah!" The guy said, hurrying over and crouching in front of you. "Hey, it's alrigh', I ain't gon' hurt'cha." His voice was calm, the southern drawl making your eyes feel heavy. The headlights obscured a lot of your vision but you could make out his face. He was a little scruffy, covered in dirt, and looking at you with more concern than anyone had looked at you with in quite some time. "Shh, it's alrigh', you're okay…" You could tell he was scrambling, unsure how to help you but desperate to do so.

"S-sorry," you babbled through broken sobs. You didn't know what else to say and you couldn't stop the tears. "I- I thought you were- I'm sorry, my ex, he-"

He took you in his arms, hugging you to his chest. He was warm and smelt of dirt and rot but you didn't even care. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been hugged. Over the years, your ex had isolated you from your friends and most of your family so you knew it had likely been a good few years. So you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed.

But he didn't falter. "Shh, 's okay, you're okay. I gotcha." He rubbed slow circles in your back and smiled down at you, like an angel come to save you. "Y'ain't gotta 'pologize. I ain't mad."

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and leaning back slightly to look at him better. Definitely scruffy but charming in his own way. The look on his face was impossibly soft, so unfamiliar to you yet you craved that gentleness. "Sorry, I, um, I'm on the run. My ex, he, uh… Well, doesn't matter now. I got myself and my boys out 'n that's what matters."

The stranger's eyes widened slightly. Bright and pretty and you felt safe under his gaze, for some reason. "Your boys?"

You nodded and started to stand. He didn't hesitate to offer his arm, letting you steady yourself on him when you felt your head swim. "Yeah, they're in the car. Probably scared 'em shitless with my screaming." Your legs felt unsteady when you walked and you didn't miss the way the guy hovered, like he was braced to catch you if you fell. It was sweet.

You swung your car door open and the boys peered up at you, scrambling to try and hide their animal crackers. "Boys," you sighed, "What did I say about desserts?"

"To ask." Peter said plainly, too distracted by the stranger. "You're dirty, mister."

"Peter-!" You gasped, ready to apologize on his behalf.

But the man just laughed, clapping his hands together in his amusement. "Yeah, yeah, y'ain't wrong lil guy. Been workin' all day, hauling dead stuff 'round."

Peter looked morbidly intrigued, scooting closer to whisper like the two of them were sharing a secret. "Like… dead people?"

"Nah, nah, nothin' like that." The guy knelt down to talk with him easier, lowering his voice as well. "Animals who, uh, get hit by cars. Ain't got anyone to take care'a them, ain't like pets. So I come 'round 'n clean 'em up off the road."

Nodding slowly, Peter reached behind him and held out one of his dinosaur toys. "Have ya seen one'a these?"

The man seemed bewildered but offered him a sincere smile. "Nah, but, uh, if I do, I'll let'cha know, 'kay?"

Peter seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to his crackers. "I never got your name." You said as the man stood back up.

"Name's Lester." He gave you a gap-toothed grin, tilting his cap in a greeting. "Was headin' back home 'n saw yer car. Figured I'd come check on ya."

You smiled, hugging yourself shyly. "I, uh, ran outta gas. And with the boys, I can't exactly walk for help. No cell service either."

Lester frowned, scratching at his face as he seemed to think it over. He surveyed the three of you before looking out towards the setting sun. "Well, I ain't usually do this," he drawled slowly, "But there's a town nearby. 's called Ambrose. Could drive ya there so y'all could sleep for the night. An' in the mornin', we can swing by the gas station 'n get some gas for yer car."

"Really?" You stared at him with your mouth agape. "You- You'd help? Wh-what's the catch?" You couldn't accept he'd do this for nothing. If being with your ex taught you anything it's that no one was good for no good reason.

He smiled again, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Ain't no catch, honest. Jus' breaks my heart to see ya so freaked out."

You rubbed your arms nervously. "Sorry. I, um, thought you were my ex…"

Lester's face screwed up. "Well, whoever he is, hope he goes to hell if he'd scare ya that badly, sweetpea."

Sweetpea was new. You felt your face warm up and you looked away shyly. He seemed trustworthy and he was cute, in a scruffy boyish way. You liked him. "I- I really appreciate it, Lester."

"'Course. Got two brothers'a my own so I get it." He watched you open your trunk and shuffle the bags around. "They ain't as well behaved as yer boys though."

Shouldering two of the bags, you snorted. "Yeah, you see 'em when its bathtime, then talk to me 'bout behaving."

The two of you were able to move most of your belongings along with the boy's car seats without issue. The truck smelt of rot and you scrunched your nose up when you spotted the dead deer in the back. "Sorry," Lester said, noticing your gaze. "Was workin' when I caught'cha. I promise everythin' in the car is clean though."

"It's okay." The smile you gave him was genuine even if he seemed surprised by it. "You're helping me. I ain't gonna shame you for your work. 'sides, someone's gotta do it, y'know?"

Lester, incredibly, gave you a surprised little smile as he watched you round up the boys. "Yeah. Yeah. You get it."

"The car smells weird." Peter said bluntly as you fastened him into his seat. Mikey had gone quietly, only squirming a little to voice his discomfort at being buckled in. He never liked confined spaces.

"Be nice, Peter." You shot him a look. "Lester's being kind to us, be kind to him, yeah?"

Peter glanced over at the man and smiled, all gap toothed and sweet. "Thank you for helpin' Mr Lester."

"'Course, lil man." Lester said, climbing into the front seat and rooting around in the glovebox. "Always happy to help."

You climbed into the passenger seat beside Lester and felt the truck rumble to life. The truck was clearly old but you could tell Lester loved it dearly and took good care of it. Even if the engine shook the whole frame. The homemade charms littered with bones and feathers rattled like raindrops and he let out a little cheer. From out of the glovebox, he pulled out an old air freshener that smelt of disgustingly fake pine and strung it over the rearview mirror. "Best I got for the smell, sorry." He said with a sideways smile.

Your heart clenched. He was so kind to you for no reason and you almost teared up from the sweet gesture alone. "Thank you."

The truck rattled and the skull sitting on the dashboard unnerved you but you brushed it off. He worked with dead animals, something about it all just made sense. The boys didn't seem to care too much, happily nodding off only ten minutes into your drive.

"So how old're they?" Lester asked in a hushed voice, trying to not wake them.

"Just turned two a few months back. Twins, if you can believe it." You chuckled, sparing the boys a glance. They weren't identical in the slightest which you were slightly grateful for. You didn't want to be one of those parents who dressed their twins to look even more the same. "But, um, I guess they got to be too much for my ex. Managed to get out 'bout a week ago and we've been on the road since."

You felt Lester glance at you, giving you a once over. Unlike with most men, you didn't find yourself repulsed by his gaze. "He put his hands on ya?"

Shrugging, you turned your attention to the window to watch the trees. The sky was slowly getting darker, making them look like just black voids. At that moment, you became hyper aware of the ring still on your finger. The compulsion to throw it out the window was strong. "Yeah. A few times." You confessed quietly, closing your eyes to keep yourself from crying again. "More the boys than me, which kills me."

You didn't miss the way Lester's hands clutched the wheel tighter. "Well, there's a special place in hell for people like that. 's fuckin' repulsive." He grumbled that last part, like he didn't want the boys to hear it.

It made you laugh though. "You're right… It's just refreshing to hear." You tried to swallow around a lump in your throat. "All his friends were the only friends I had. Was allowed to have. And none of them were interested in helping me, much less believe me."

Lester scoffed. "Scumbags, the lotta'em. What happened ain't your fault, sweetpea don't let any of 'em get in your pretty lil' head that you did anythin' wrong." He paused, chewing on his lip before sighing. "My dad, he wasn't always the kindest to my brother. An' don't go telling this to nobody, ya hear? But I always hated folks who can jus' hurt their loved ones and keep goin' 'bout their damn business. Like it ain't botherin' em."

You knew he was right. It still brought tears to your eyes to have someone believe you. Someone who had no idea what your situation was and he was still defending you. Like your ex had no reason good enough for Lester to even ask about.

You definitely liked Lester.

"Town's just up this way," he said softly. The sight of streetlights was almost relieving to you after a long day of being on the road, hopping from gas station to gas station and only stopping at motels long enough to sleep. "Might get a lil' bit bumpy."

Bumpy was an understatement. You almost thought you'd crashed as you felt the wheels bounce against rocks, shaking the car so violently you felt sick. Your arm shot out to try and catch your balance against the window and you only let out a breath when the truck came to a complete stop.

You and Lester shared a wide-eyed look. "Forgot to lay the planks down."

Nothing about it was funny. But after the evening you had, you couldn't help but laugh. A genuine laugh. Something you hadn't done in a long time.

When Mikey began to cry from being woken up so violently, Lester got to him before you could. "Shh, s'alright lil' man, go back to sleep, shhh." He reached behind his seat to brush at his knee. "Sorry, almost there bud, jus' a bit further."

Eventually, Mikey settled back down, sniffling until he fell back asleep. When Lester sat back in his seat, he noticed your staring. "You have kids of your own or something? You're a natural at that."

He looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. "Nah, but, uh, used to babysit 'round here. Was always good with kids, I s'pose."

With the car on paved roads now, the drive up to the town was smooth. As expected of a tiny town, nobody was outside. The lights in the little shops were out and the houses were all dark. Except one house atop a hill, lit up like a lighthouse in a sea of darkness. Lester drove towards it and pulled to a stop just outside. It was a modest house, paint peeling off in places along the outside and cobwebs in high places of the awning over the door. "What's this place?" You asked as you quickly followed Lester out of the car. You were incredibly appreciative of Lester’s good deed but his car did smell like rotten meat.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be too offended.

"Family home. Inn's prolly closed for the night but I betcha my brothers'll let ya stay for the night." Lester said as he opened the backseat and began to undo the straps of Mikey's car seat.

You were struck silent. "I- Lester I can't impose on your-"

There wasn't any time to protest as the front door swung open. A large man stood there, dressed in a mechanics jumpsuit and wearing a hat over thin curly hair. "Les? The hell's this?"

Lester smiled all innocently, like this was a perfectly normal thing for him to do. "Heya Bo. Brought guests."

Bo stared you both down before running a hand over his face in exasperation. "When I toldja to come by for dinner, I ain't meaning to bring your pretty lil' girlfriend with ya."

You blushed and stammered but Lester spoke up, lifting a sleeping Mikey into his arms like he was a precious artifact. Bo took notice and his eyes widened at the sight. "I, uh," he stammered inelegantly. "What's with the, uh…"

"His name's Mikey." You mumbled, suddenly feeling unwelcome. It wasn't uncommon for people to look at you strangely for the twins, like they were some curse. Or maybe it was just your exes friends who felt like that.

Bo nodded slowly. "Mikey. Right." He looked at Lester and stepped aside, letting him pass into the house with your baby. "Well then. You folks like lasagna?"

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Whenever Les comes to visit for the eve, Vince always makes lasagna. Easy for him to take home 'n whatnot." Bo gave you a warm smile as he approached you slowly, like he was afraid you'd bolt. "If my lil' brother thinks you're good people… Well, I'm obliged to trust him. He ain't ever been wrong."

You watched Bo grab the bags you brought, only hesitating when he saw Peter, also fast asleep. "Sorry, um, I can-" You stuttered, reaching for the bags in Bo's hands.

He held onto them though, tilting his head towards Peter. "Don't even think 'bout it. You just bring your lil' one in. The gentlemanly thing to do is carry the bags." Bo gave you a flirtatious wink and went back inside.

You were left standing in the chilly, night air. The only light came from the inside of the house, which bathed the front porch and gravel walkway in warm, yellow light. You were cold and confused and absolutely exhausted. A part of you screamed against all instinct to accept their help, to trust these strangers. It had been so long since you'd trusted anyone, after all. You were desperate.

So you did.

Peter was already blinking awake from his short nap when you pushed the screen door open more and took in the house. It was a comfortable state of disarray. Throw pillows were propped against the couch at odd angles, family photographs decorated the walls in mismatched frames, and the room smelt of meat, cheese, and marinara sauce.

Lester and Bo's heads snapped to look at you. They'd clearly been whispering but they both smiled at you when you entered. Mikey was sitting on the couch, still a little bleary eyed, curled up against one of the velvety throw pillows that looked rustic and homemade. You sat Peter down beside him, brushing hair from their sleepy faces, and tried to ignore the brothers whispering. "Sorry," you mumbled as you approached them.

They both seemed surprised. "Why're you sorry?" Bo asked with a frown. "Y'ain't got nothin' to be sorry 'bout."

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, hung head low like a child being scolded. Fawn, your brain screamed. Fawn and they won't hurt you. "'m intruding with two kids, I- I know I'm not supposed to have come here, I just- Lester said the inn was closed, I didn't know where else to go, my car broke down-"

Lester cut your spiraling off by taking your hand and squeezing gently, grounding you. "Hey, hey, sweetpea," he kept his voice low and soothing, "We're happy to have ya. All three'a ya. Honest."

Bo nodded along, frowning at how quickly you retreated inwards. Lester had mentioned to him very briefly while you were outside about how your ex laid hands on you and the boys. It was what got him fully on board with offering you help. So seeing you like this broke his heart just that little bit more.

"I'm gonna go talk to Vince, let him know we got guests." Bo said as he swung open the basement door. "Les, make sure our guests are comfortable, yeah?"

Lester nodded, humming his agreement as he pulled you to his chest for a hug. You went willingly, your hands curled up in the fabric of his shirt as he hooked his arms around your shoulders. "Yeah, I got 'em." He said, shooting his brother a smile as he hugged you.

Bo nodded and descended to the basement.

Vincent hated to be disturbed while working. His brothers especially knew how entranced he'd get in a project, focused on perfecting every piece. Their mother had made him an incredible artist, which often meant he'd neglect everything, even himself, for the sake of his work. Oftentimes, Lester or Bo had to come downstairs to make sure he didn't collapse from exhaustion or dehydration. Especially when summer hit and the basement's heat was suffocating.

So Vincent didn't even lift his head when Bo came to a stop in the entryway, too focused on mending a crack in the cheek of his sculpture. "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax.

He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work.

"They got kids."

And that made Vincent straighten up. "Kids?" He signed slowly, like he wasn't sure he heard him right.

"Yeah." Bo said through a sigh. "Two lil' guys. Too old for breastfeedin' but too young for preschool. Hard to say though, been awhile since any of us were that old." He chucked humorlessly.

Vincent looked towards the wax figure slowly. "We promised Lester we wouldn't hurt children."

Bo nodded, looking annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. They're a pretty lil' thing too. Would be perfect for the museum, but, of course, Lester found 'em first."

"They can't see me," Vincent suddenly became frantic. "The children will be afraid."

The other man winced, hissing through his teeth. "Sorry bro, already promised your cookin' tonight." But Bo didn't seem that remorseful, even when his twin leveled him with an unimpressed look. "When's dinner, by the way?"

"What time is it?" Vincent signed, finally aware of the passage of time. It was easy to get lost in his work, though he promised himself he'd only come down for a few minutes to double check something. But it was easy for him to get lost.

"'s only quarter past 9. Why?"

Vincent finally moved, hurrying past. Bo was only able to make out "oven" before his brother was out of sight.

Thankfully, nothing was burnt. Vincent hadn't even spared you a glance yet, too focused on not burning the house down. Once the food was set atop the stove to cool down, he turned around to face you.

You were sat on the couch with Lester and the boys, who were trying their best to stay awake. "You must be Vincent," you said with a sniff. You knew your eyes were red from crying. Lester had sat with you, holding you while you wept. It was hard, feeling cared for. Especially by strangers.

Pain was familiar. This kindness overwhelmed you.

Vincent became shy when you addressed him, hiding behind long hair and doing his best to keep out of your sight. But Bo, never one to let his twin have peace, grabbed his arm to keep him from hiding. "Yep, managed to finally pull 'im outta that basement for dinner. Whaddya say, Vinny? You up for a proper meal with our guests?"

If looks could kill, Bo would have erupted into flames, reduced to ashes on the carpet. "Do I have a choice?" Vincent signed, managing to look annoyed even behind his mask.

"Nah." Bo smiled, all teeth and no kindness. "You set the table, I'll get enough chairs ready."

Lester turned to you, brushing stray tears away. His heart hurt when you'd started bawling after Bo left, babbling to him that you felt horrible for intruding and forcing his family to help you just because of the kids. He swore if he ever got his hands on your ex, they'd wish Vince or Bo had gotten to them first. "You okay?" He asked you gently, giving you what he hoped was a sincere smile.

You nodded, sniffing once. "Yeah, um, sorry for-"

"If you 'pologize to me for cryin', I'mma beat the ever lovin' shit outta your ex, sweetpea." Lester said, relishing in your chuckle. "We're happy to help ya, really."

Sniffing again, you nodded and wiped your eyes. "I really appreciate it. More than I think you know."

The look he gave you was impossibly soft. Like you were something precious. Lester's hand cupped your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, making your mouth fall open in surprise. "You deserve it, sweetpea. Y'really do."

Bo coughed, making Lester roll his eyes. The two shared pointed looks before Bo turned to you. "Your lil' ones need high chairs or, uh, somethin'?"

You glanced down at the boys and sighed. "I think they're down for the count."

"You can use my room upstairs." Lester said. "I ain't sleep there much anymore so it oughta be clean." Before you could even think to protest, he tapped your nose. "And don't you get all apologetic on me. I wouldn't offer it if it weren't alright."

Honestly, you were a bit relieved to get to sleep in a real bed. So you thanked them quietly, gathered the boys up in your arms, and carried them upstairs. "Second door on the right," Bo called up after you.

As soon as your footsteps couldn't be heard on the creaky wooden stairs anymore, Lester was the first to speak. "I hope you two ain't forgotten your promise."

"Lester, I toldja to find someone for the museum-" Bo hissed, anger sharp on his face.

But the younger Sinclair didn't back down. "If Mama knew you two'd killed two lil' boys, whaddya think she'd do? She'd say somethin' 'bout how if someone took y'all from her, she'd raise hell."

"Don't bring Mama into this." Bo glared daggers at Lester.

Vincent knocked on the countertop to get their attention. "He's right. We made a promise."

"We can't fuckin' keep 'em here!" Bo said, careful to keep his voice down.

"Don't gotta." Lester said, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "They ran outta gas. Let 'em stay the night, drop 'em back off at their car, they'll go on. Ain't no trouble."

Bo groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why do you even care so bad?"

Lester flushed, blotchy pink spots on his cheeks, and shrugged. "They're nice. 'n I feel bad. Their ex laid hands on those lil' babies an' I'd do anything to get five minutes alone with that sonuvabitch."

Vincent's eyes widened. "You didn't mention that!" He signed harshly at Bo.

"Didn't exactly have a moment to tell ya." He sighed with obvious frustration. "Fine, alright, we keep 'em for one night. They're gone in the mornin', ya hear?"

The three of them were quiet for awhile, listening to your footsteps overhead as you set the boys up in Lester's old room. "Swear on Mama," Lester said, keeping his voice low, "That I ain't gonna be seein' any lil' boy statues."

"Lester-!" Bo hissed.

"Swear!" Lester shot back. The two were up in each other's faces at this point.

Vincent, ever the peacemaker, knocked on the counter again. "We swear on Mama."

"Don't fuckin' speak for me, freak!" Bo huffed. But Vincent fixed him with a glare and he sighed in defeat. "Fine. Swear on Mama. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to those three."

The youngest seemed satisfied. At that moment, you came back down the stairs, frowning slightly when you noticed them. "Everything okay?" You asked as though sensing the tension in the room.

"Yep!" Lester said with a wide grin. "Hungry?"

"Starving." You smiled back.

Dinner was awkward at first, especially since you struggled to understand Vincent. But Bo and Lester happily translated and conversation began to flow easier, which you were grateful for.

"So, how long has it just been the three of you?" You asked as you took a bite out of the lasagna. Warm and cheesy and exactly what you needed after a week of gas station food.

Bo hummed as he swallowed. "'Bout ten years now. Went by in a blip, feels like."

"Oh," you frowned, "What happened? If, um, I can ask."

Vincent nodded, still nervously picking at his food. You'd noticed he only ate when you weren't looking so he could lift the mask, which saddened you. He seemed like a nice guy and you wondered what happened in the past to make him hide his face. But you did your best to look away periodically to give him a chance to eat and hopefully let him know it was fine. He probably got enough grief for it as is, you didn't need to add on.

Judging by the slowly disappearing food on his plate, you figured that was the right thing to do.

"Mama got sick. Real sick." Bo sighed sadly. "She was a really great artist, losing her hit the town hard."

"I'm sorry." You said gently. But Lester was the only one of the brothers who seemed sad. Something about that confused you. Why wouldn't they miss their parents?

You took a bite of the food. That wasn't your business.

Vincent began talking about his art then. Bo seemed to roll his eyes and ignored his signing, uninterested in translating. But Lester picked it up in his place, helping his brother talk about his art. He enjoyed painting in his free time but he primarily sculpted with wax.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You sculpt?"

"Vinny's the main artist in the House of Wax down the street." Bo nodded, answering for him. "Maybe t'morrow we'll take you 'n the boys to see it."

Vincent fidgeted with the ends of his hair, clearly embarrassed. You shot him a warm smile. "I'm sure Vincent's art is great. I look forward to it."

Once dinner was over, Bo and Lester disappeared into the living room with a couple of beers so you and Vince had the chance to wash dishes. The peaceful white noise of the running water and the simple swirling of washing dishes was nice after a long day. Vincent helped, taking whatever dish you passed him and drying it, setting it aside on the nearby dishrack.

He seemed to appreciate the silence. You almost wished you knew sign language so you could talk to him beyond yes or no questions. But you tried to ignore the shock you felt when your fingers brushed sometimes.

If he noticed, he didn't bring it up.

The soft sound of crying alarmed you. You spun around and saw Mikey standing in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing and sobbing silently. He cried for you and ran towards you, wailing for comfort. You'd barely dried your hands before you were reaching down, scooping him up into your arms. "Shhh, it's okay," you soothed him gently, Mikey had always been the more sensitive one. Waking up in a new, unfamiliar place must have startled him, you thought to yourself as you swayed with him gently.

He nodded, whimpering. "Scared."

"I can imagine." You kissed his cheek gently, rocking him like you'd done when he was an infant, needing to be settled before bed. "It's okay baby, you're alright," you repeated the mantra over and over as you heard Vincent turn off the water behind you.

Hearing his heavy footsteps behind you, you turned to face him and shifted Peter so he could see him. The tall man blinked slowly at Peter, tilting his head curiously at your son. "Mikey, this is Vincent. He and his brothers are letting us spend the night so you and Peter can sleep in a bed."

Mikey seemed to consider this before reaching up to try and touch Vincent's face. "Hi," he whispered.

Vincent flinched slightly but didn't step back. Instead, he offered his hand for the young boy to grab at. Mikey giggled as he grabbed at Vincent's fingers and hand, seemingly satisfied. "Did you wake your brother?" You asked after a moment and winced when your son nodded. "Where did he wander off to?"

"Over here," You turned your head to see Peter half asleep slumped against Bo, barely even keeping his eyes open. Neither of the men seemed bothered though. Bo even raised his beer bottle jokingly, "Seems he's ready to get drinkin' already." He teased and you snorted.

"God I wish they'd just stay small forever. I can't even imagine them starting school yet, much less drinking." You paled at the mere thought. It seemed like only yesterday they were just born and now you felt nauseous whenever you think about them starting kindergarten. Being away from your kids for extended periods of time felt terrifying.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Vincent signing something to you. Shit. Luckily, Lester translated from his seat on the couch, "He's askin' if ya want help bringin' em upstairs?"

Blinking a few times, you nodded at Vincent with a smile. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it! Here," you adjusted Mikey before passing the toddler into Vincent's arms carefully, "just support him here," you guided his arms to the right spaces and ignored the way your heart melted seeing him asleep in someone's arms. Reminded you of easier times before you and your partner split. "Lemme grab Peter and we can head upstairs." Vincent nodded to you and waited patiently by the stairs as you stole Peter back from Bo.

You felt the pair's eyes on you as you wished them goodnight from over your shoulder and headed upstairs with Vincent trailing behind. He carried Mikey like he was fragile, breakable, and you found it incredibly endearing. You set Peter down onto the bed, nestled back in the little blanket fort to prevent them from rolling off the bed, kissing him softly goodnight. Vincent mirrored your actions with Mikey and just stroked his cheek with his thumb in lieu of a kiss. "Thanks for your help. All three of you," you whispered to him. Vincent looked at you, shadows hiding his eyes from you. "It means the world to me that you're all willing to help. I know the boys appreciate it too." You smiled at him as you stood quietly. "I should get to bed," you trailed off and Vincent nodded but didn't leave the room.

Instead, he reached his hand out towards you before tilting his head, asking permission. You gave him a curious nod and felt his hand touch your cheek, stroking under your eye like he'd done to Mikey. "Night Vincent," you whispered and ignored how your face warmed up.

He shut the door as he stepped out of the room,padding down to rejoin his brothers in the living room. None of them said a word to each other but they all had the same thought: they wanted you to stay.

The next morning, Bo collected your car and brought it to the gas station to fill back up. You'd chatted about your plans to keep going west when he'd mentioned missing you. "Place jus' feels more lively with you 'round, s'all." He'd shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

You'd gestured to the empty streets before climbing into the passenger's seat. "You sure that ain't just because this town is quiet as is?"

Bo just gave you a smile.

When you tried to start your car, it seemed to spur, dead. "What the-?"

"Everythin' alright?" He asked, leaning against the window frame.

"It sounds like the battery's dead?" You frowned, trying again to start the car.

Bo jerked his head, urging you to follow him. "Lemme take a look." You followed him around to the hood of your car and he flipped it open. He hummed as he looked around, face screwing up in surprise. "Your fan belt tore."

"My what?" You blinked owlishly at him. He gave you a look of bewilderment and you just sighed. "You definitely know more about cars than me."

He snorted at you and slammed the hood closed. "I don't think I got any in the shop but I could order one for ya and have it in a few days."

That wouldn't do. "I- I need to get back on the road soon." Panic began to rise in your chest and tighten your throat. "If we're found here, then I'd have to…" You didn't want to think about it, you said to yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut. Obviously you had a plan if you got caught but you really, really, didn't want it to come to that.

Bo nudged you gently and gave you a warm smile. "Hey, we'll look out for ya. Ain't no one gonna hurt'cha here in Ambrose. Not get many tourists anywhere, doubt they'd think to look for ya here."

You sighed. You didn't exactly have much of a choice. If your car wouldn't start, you'd just have to wait.

The two of you were walking back to the house and you felt Bo kept glancing at you. Right before you were going to ask about it, he spoke up. "I know ya wanna go see the House of Wax. Which is all fine 'n good, but ya gotta know somethin' 'fore you go there."

"Sure..?" You said plainly.

Bo sighed loudly, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "So, when Mama got sick, Vince had been away at a real good art college." You nodded along to show you were listening. Bo looked guilty. "When she got worse, I needed help takin' care'a her. Lester and I were away workin' and she needed someone at home. So, uh, near her end…" He sighed again. "I called him back home. It's, uh, still a sore spot. Wasn't able to go back, since he got in on scholarships. An' we didn't have the funds anyway, her bills were too much."

The silence was deafening. "I'm sorry." You said, at a loss for words. "I- I won't bring it up then."

"I 'preciate it. He an' I don't talk 'bout it anymore. If he goes with ya, just don't ask."

You nodded, giving Bo a small smile. "I'm sure he doesn't blame you for it."

The man smiled back at you but you could see it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

Taking a small sidestep, you bumped your shoulders together. "I know so."

Later that night, things changed.

You'd gone to bed after showering and bathing the boys, the three of you all fast asleep in the bedroom. Vincent and Bo had gone to their own rooms while Lester slept on the couch. None of you heard the two cars that pulled into the town, driving slowly down the streets looking for any sign of life. After no luck at the first few houses, a small group of people approached the Sinclair's house, heavy footfalls making the little porch staircase creak under the stress.

They knocked on the front door and a dog could be heard barking in the backyard.

Lester had stumbled awake in surprise, his brain taking a minute to catch up. No one should be at the door because nobody else was alive in Ambrose. He still went to the door, opening it with a tired yawn. "Yeah?"

A man smiled at him, an acidic look that made bile burn the back of Lester's throat. "I'm looking for someone. Do you happen to know if there's been someone visiting your town?"

Freezing, Lester immediately recognized the man. Even though they'd never met face to face, he knew everything about this man. All child abusers look the same, Lester thought as he recalled his father. They all look like scum.

"Well, I ain't too sure. I work the night shift, I jus' got home. But my brother Bo might'a seen 'em. He works down at the autoshop." He said through a yawn.

"I'd hope so. Considering their car is in his shop." The man smiled, trying to force his way into the door, calling your name.

Lester shoved him back, slamming the door and locking it with a loud thud. He ignored your ex's screaming as he ran up the stairs.

Bo was opening his door before Lester could even knock. "The hell're you-?!"

"Guests." Lester panted, frozen in place as he kept an ear out in case your door opened. "Their ex is here."

His brother's eyes widened and he stormed to Vincent's door, knocking once before opening. He tore the blankets off Vincent and shook him viciously. "Get up, get the knives, we got intruders."

Vincent snapped awake, blinking through sleep-mussed hair. "Mm?" He said around his exhausted yawn.

"Intruders! Vince! Now!" Bo snapped. "I'll get my shotgun. You helpin' out, Les?"

Lester huffed, thinking it over. "Y'know I ain't a killer, right?"

Bo didn't have time for this. "You helpin' or NOT, Les?"

The younger brother sighed. "Does dad still keep a spare gun in his office?"

"Did he ever stop?" Bo said with a smirk, pulling his boots on his feet.

Vincent stumbled to his feet, putting his own boots on to sneak back down into the basement. If he went down and through the House of Wax, they could pin the group down. Bo'd meet them head on while Lester slipped around the side of the house to catch the strays. They vowed to make quick work of all of them but save your ex for last.

The Sinclair brothers were going to protect you. No matter what.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x s/o #house of wax #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x y/n #tired of running

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kiesbrainjuice · 6 months ago

Text

— SPACE SONG ! kenma kozume

syn : your boyfriend is rather distant because of his streams but make it up to you

wc : 3.4k

tw : angst, smut, fluff, timeskip!kenma, afab!reader, ruined orgasm, missionary then cowgirl, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, reader get drunk (not during smut)

Kenma Kozume, once a skilled setter for the Nekoma High School volleyball team, had transformed his passion for gaming into a lucrative career. His YouTube channel and Twitch streams boasted millions of subscribers, eagerly tuning in to watch his expert gameplay and witty commentary. His fame had skyrocketed, leading to numerous sponsorship deals with major gaming companies, each vying for his endorsement of their latest releases.

You stood in the doorway of Kenma's state-of-the-art gaming room, watching your boyfriend of nearly a year as he sat hunched over his setup. The glow of multiple monitors illuminated his face, his cat-like eyes darting across the screens as his fingers danced over the keyboard and mouse. You couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness, despite being in the same room.

"Kenma," you called softly, careful not to disrupt his stream. "Do you have a minute?"

Without taking his eyes off the game, Kenma responded in a low voice, "Not now. I'm in the middle of a crucial match."

You sighed, used to this response but still disappointed. "I was hoping we could talk about our plans for the weekend. Maybe go out somewhere?"

Kenma's brow furrowed slightly, more from concentration on the game than your question. "This weekend? I have a sponsored stream for that new MMORPG. It's a big deal."

"But we haven't had a proper date in weeks," you protested, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Kenma paused for a split second, his character on screen momentarily idle. He glanced at you, his expression a mix of guilt and irritation. "Look, I know it's been busy lately. The channel's growing faster than ever, and I can't pass up these opportunities."

He turned back to the game, his fingers resuming their frantic pace. "Do you want something? Use my credit card as you like, buy anything. And don't disturb my work hours," he added, his tone indifferent as he refocused on the live match.

You felt a lump forming in your throat. "It's not about the money, Kenma. I just want to spend time with you."

But Kenma was already back in his gaming world, his microphone reactivated as he called out strategies to his teammates. You knew he wouldn't respond now, not with tens of thousands of viewers watching his every move.

As you turned to leave the room, you caught a glimpse of the chat flying by on one of the monitors. Fans were speculating about Kenma's personal life, some wondering if he was single. You remembered the conversation where Kenma had asked to keep your relationship private, fearing the impact it might have on his career and your privacy.

Now, standing alone in the hallway of your shared apartment, you couldn't help but wonder if there was room for you in Kenma's life of pixels and paychecks. The sound of his voice, animated and engaged with his audience, drifted from the room behind you, a stark contrast to the quiet, disinterested tone he had used with you moments ago.

You made your way to the kitchen, your footsteps heavy with disappointment. The sleek, modern appliances and granite countertops that had once excited you now felt cold and impersonal. As you leaned against the kitchen island, the emotions you'd been holding back finally broke through.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you covered your mouth to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for Kenma to hear you crying over his livestream. The contrast between the enthusiastic voice coming from his gaming room and the silence of the kitchen where you stood alone was painfully stark.

With shaking hands, you pulled out your phone and opened your group chat with your closest friends.

You: Hey guys. Anyone up for going out tonight? I really need to get out of the house.

Ami: What's wrong? Everything okay with you and Kenma?

Yuki: I'm free! Let's hit that new club downtown. You sound like you could use a girls' night out.

Hana: Count me in. We'll cheer you up!

You: Thanks, girls. I just... I need a distraction. Things have been tough lately.

Ami: Say no more. We've got your back. Meet at my place at 9?

You: Sounds perfect. I'll be there.

You wiped your eyes, feeling a small sense of relief. At least you had friends who cared and were there for you. As you headed to the bedroom to get ready, you could still hear Kenma's voice, now punctuated by occasional laughter and excitement over some in-game achievement.

"I'm going out," you called out, knowing he probably wouldn't respond or even notice your absence.

As expected, there was no reply. You sighed, picked out an outfit that made you feel confident, and started getting ready. The night out with your friends wouldn't solve the underlying issues in your relationship, but at least it would provide a temporary escape from the loneliness that had become all too familiar in your shared apartment.

As you applied your makeup, carefully concealing the evidence of your tears, you couldn't help but wonder how long you could continue like this – loving someone who seemed to exist more in the digital world than in the real one beside you.

–

As you arrived at Ami's place, your phone buzzed with a message. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was from Kenma.

Kenma: Where are you?

You hesitated for a moment before replying.

You: I'm out with the girls. Told you I was leaving.

Kenma: Oh. When will you be back?

You: Not sure. Don't wait up.

You stared at your phone, half-hoping he'd say something more, express concern, or ask you to come home. But no further messages came.

"Everything okay?" Ami asked, noticing your frown.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, just Kenma checking in. Let's go have some fun."

The four of you piled into a taxi, the excitement of a night out slowly lifting your spirits. As you approached the club, the pulsing beats could be heard even from the street.

"This is exactly what you need," Yuki said, linking her arm with yours. "A night to forget about everything and just dance."

The club was packed, bodies moving in sync with the music. The DJ was skilled, mixing tracks that kept the energy high. You and your friends found a spot on the dance floor, and for the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to relax.

As you danced, the rhythm pulsing through your body, you tried to push thoughts of Kenma aside. But every now and then, you'd catch yourself checking your phone, hoping to see a message from him.

Hana noticed and gently took your phone. "Hey, tonight is about you, okay? Let's live in the moment."

You nodded, grateful for your friends' support. The night continued, a blur of dancing, laughter, and overpriced cocktails. For hours, you lost yourself in the music and the company of your friends.

It was nearly 2 AM when you stumbled out of the club, your feet aching but your heart lighter than it had been in months.

"Thank you all so much," you said, hugging each of your friends. "I really needed this."

As you got into a taxi to head home, the euphoria of the night began to fade, replaced by the reality waiting for you. You wondered if Kenma would still be awake, if he'd noticed your absence, if he'd care that you'd been out so late.

The taxi pulled up to your apartment building. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you inside. As much as you'd enjoyed the night out, you knew that come morning, you and Kenma would need to have a serious conversation about your relationship and your future together.

As you fumbled with your keys, the door suddenly swung open. Kenma stood there, his hair disheveled and eyes wide with concern.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

The sudden show of affection, combined with your inebriated state, caught you off guard. You giggled, your words slurring slightly as you spoke.

"Kenmaaa," you drawled, poking his cheek. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a cutie? 'Cause you are. Such a cute kitty."

Kenma's brow furrowed with worry as he realized your state. "You're drunk. Come on, let's get you inside."

As he guided you into the apartment, you stumbled, nearly falling before he caught you. "Whoopsie! My hero," you giggled again.

"I'm so sorry," Kenma said, his voice thick with remorse. "I shouldn't have ignored you earlier. I didn't realize you were so upset."

You waved your hand dismissively, nearly hitting him in the face. "S'okay. You were busy with your millions of fans. Who needs a girlfriend when you have millions of fans, right?"

Kenma winced at your words. "No, that's not... I've been terrible to you. I'm so, so sorry."

He helped you to the bedroom, where you flopped onto the bed, your world spinning. Kenma knelt beside you, gently removing your shoes.

"You know what?" you said, your voice suddenly serious despite your drunken state. "I miss you. Even when you're here, I miss you."

Kenma's face crumpled with guilt. "I know. I've been selfish and blind. I promise I'll make it up to you."

He helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water. "Drink this. It'll help."

As you sipped the water, Kenma busied himself getting you comfortable. He helped you change into pajamas, brought a bucket in case you felt sick, and made sure you had painkillers nearby for the inevitable hangover.

"There," he said softly, tucking you in. "Try to get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

You nodded sleepily, already drifting off. Just before you fell asleep, you felt Kenma's lips press gently against your forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't shown it lately. That's going to change."

As sleep overtook you, you felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

–

As you slowly regained consciousness, your head throbbing and your mouth dry, you became aware of movement in the room. You cracked open an eye to see Kenma looking at you with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

You groaned in response, your voice hoarse. "Is it morning already?"

Kenma chuckled lightly, taking in your disheveled appearance. "It's almost noon, actually. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," you mumbled, slowly sitting up.

"Come on," Kenma said, helping you to your feet. "I've made coffee. It should help."

You shuffled after him to the kitchen, squinting against the light. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you.

As Kenma busied himself pouring you a cup, you leaned against the counter, watching him. Something felt different, but in your hungover state, you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Then suddenly, a realization hit you.

"Wait," you said, your brow furrowing in confusion. "Don't you have a stream right now?"

Kenma turned to you, coffee in hand, his expression serious. "No, I cancelled it."

"You... cancelled it?" you repeated, stunned. Kenma never cancelled streams, especially not sponsored ones.

He nodded, handing you the coffee. "I cancelled all my streams for the next few days, actually. We need to talk, and you're more important than any sponsorship or subscriber count."

You took a sip of coffee, trying to process this information. "But... your career, your fans..."

Kenma shook his head, cutting you off. "They can wait. I've been neglecting what really matters - you, us. I realized last night how close I was to losing you, and I never want to come that close again."

Despite your hangover, you felt a surge of emotion. "Kenma..."

He took your free hand in his, his golden eyes meeting yours. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I got caught up in the success and forgot about the most important person in my life. Can we talk? Really talk, about us and where we go from here?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. "Yeah, we should talk."

Kenma squeezed your hand gently. "Finish your coffee, take a shower if you want. I'll be here when you're ready.”

As you settled on the couch, Kenma positioned himself between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. Your fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, gently running through the soft strands. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on either of you.

"I've missed this," Kenma murmured, nuzzling closer.

You smiled, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. "What, using me as your personal pillow?"

He chuckled softly. "Among other things. Your touch, your scent, just... you."

"Careful, Kozume," you teased. "Keep talking like that and I might think you actually like me."

Kenma tilted his head to look up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh? And what if I do more than like you?"

Your heart fluttered at his words. "Prove it," you challenged playfully.

In one swift motion, Kenma sat up and cupped your face in his hands. His golden eyes locked with yours, full of warmth and affection. "Challenge accepted," he whispered before pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

When you parted, you couldn't help but grin. "Not bad for a gamer boy."

Kenma raised an eyebrow. "Gamer boy? I'll have you know I'm a gamer man."

You laughed, pulling him close again. "Oh really? Then show me your high score, gamer man."

He smirked, leaning in for another kiss. "Game on."

As you feverishly clutched each other, all the pent-up desire from months apart erupted into a frenzy of passion. The hunger and longing was palpable as you devoured each other's lips, your hands greedily exploring every inch of skin. Words were unnecessary as your bodies spoke their own language, a primal dance of pleasure and release. There was no need for discussion, only the wild abandon of two lovers reunited at last.

Kenma's hands slid under your sweatshirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck as his lips met your skin. You couldn't help but let out a small gasp as he squeezed your breasts gently. "I need you," you moaned, craving more of his touch. With each kiss, the desire between you grew stronger, igniting sparks of passion like wildfire. Your breaths mingled, creating a symphony of pleasure as the world around you melted away. In that moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heartbeats and the overwhelming feeling of being consumed by each other.

As his skilled fingers traced a path over the fabric covering your heated core, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his hungry mouth. "That's it, baby," he murmured against your lips, his movements becoming more fervent. With a quick swoop, he removed your panties and shorts, exposing your now throbbing center to the cool air. As his fingers continued their maddening circles, his tongue eagerly explored your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. Just as you felt yourself on the brink of ecstasy, he abruptly stopped, leaving you flushed and wanting. "Kenma..." you breathed out, pleading for him to continue.

He slowly removed his pants, revealing the outline of his erect member through his underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he said confidently as he peeled off his underwear, causing you to gasp in excitement. You couldn't help but admire the size and girth of his throbbing cock as it stood proudly before you. He smirked at your reaction and teasingly rubbed the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy. "Look how wet you are," he whispered huskily in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, he pulled back and only brushed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper with frustration. "Please," you begged, gripping onto him tightly as he held your thighs apart. Without hesitation, he thrust himself into you fully, causing you to moan loudly into his neck. Your bodies moved together in perfect synchronization as he pounded into you with every ounce of strength and passion he possessed. And for that moment, nothing else existed except for the two of you locked in an ecstatic embrace.

With a predatory gaze, he slowly undressed, revealing the outline of his impressive erection through his tight underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he growled with confidence as he slid off his underwear, exposing a throbbing and girthy cock that made your mouth water with desire. He smirked at your obvious arousal and teasingly dragged the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy, eliciting an eager gasp from your lips. "Look how ready you are for me," he purred huskily into your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. But just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled back and only grazed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper in desperation. "Please," you begged, desperate for him to fulfill your burning desires. With a feral hunger in his eyes, he gripped onto your thighs tightly and plunged himself inside you with a powerful thrust, causing you to cry out in pleasure and cling onto him desperately. Your bodies moved together in a primal rhythm, each thrust driving both of you closer to the brink of ecstasy. And in that moment, nothing else existed except for the raw passion between the two of you as you were consumed by unbridled desire and pleasure.

Your bodies collided in a frenzy of passion, each thrust causing your entire being to jolt with euphoria. The taste of his saliva lingered between your lips, igniting a primal desire within you as he devoured your mouth. "Kenma...'s t-too much...t-too good," you gasped, feeling yourself on the brink of explosion. But before you could surrender completely to ecstasy, he flipped you over and guided you onto him in the cowgirl position, his depths reaching even deeper inside of you. "Ride me, baby," he commanded, and with a few moments to adjust and find your rhythm, you began to ride him with reckless abandon. Your hands gripped onto his torso for support as you moved together in perfect harmony, both moaning and groaning in ecstasy. His words of praise only fueled your desire as you picked up speed, feeling the rough friction between your bodies. He grabbed onto your ass, guiding and assisting your movements as you cried out his name in absolute bliss. Every sensation was heightened in this position, every thrust and grind sending shivers of pleasure through your body as you reached the pinnacle of pleasure together.

Each powerful thrust sends you spiraling further into a state of pure ecstasy. Your cries reach a deafening crescendo, urging him to never stop as he takes you with an unrelenting force. His torso presses against yours, his head buried in your chest as he hungrily tastes and teases your sensitive breasts. The overwhelming sensation of pleasure consumes every inch of your body, building towards an explosive release that you can no longer hold back. With a final desperate cry of "Fuck! K-Ken...!", you both shatter into oblivion, consumed by the intensity of your passion until there is nothing left but the sound of heavy breathing and the taste of each other lingering on your lips.

As you both lay entwined in the afterglow, your hearts beating in sync with one another, a sense of peace and comfort washes over you. Kenma's arms envelop you protectively, and you can't help but marvel at how this gamer boy has turned into a man who thoroughly knows how to take care of you.

You trace your fingers along his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. "I love you, Kenma," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion.

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his own shining with love and devotion. "And I love you too, more than words can express." He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your cheek in a tender caress.

tag : @haechansbbg

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