#I’ve been on such a doctor sleep kick so you know I HAD to gif him. also don’t you dare say anything about the quality ik it’s horrible 💀

[floralpascal]

Taking Care of You

Summary: You've been stressed out and working like crazy lately. John finally has enough and devises a plan to take care of you and make you forget all about your work.

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors do not interact)

Warnings: stressed reader, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), orgasm denial, praise

A/N: This one goes out to all my stressed and busy babes out there! This is 100% self indulgent since I've been working day and night recently. We all need us some Price to take that stress away

You knew that you had been distant for a while. Work had been piling up on you, responsibilities pressing in from all sides. It seemed like all you did was work, work, work these days. 

Your husband, John Price, was as supportive as he always was. He, of all people, understood that sometimes you just had to put your head down and get work done. When he was home with you, he always made sure that you ate and stayed hydrated. He limited your caffeine intake. He made sure you took breaks. In all, he was the most supportive, understanding man on the planet. 

…which was why his reaction now was so surprising. 

You saw him approach the makeshift office that you had set up at your kitchen table from over your laptop screen. In a soft, even voice he ordered, “Close the computer, love.”

Continuing to type, you spared him a questioning glance as you shook your head. “I just took a break like… an hour ago.”

“Three,” he corrected. “It’s almost eleven at night.”

You whipped your head up to look at the clock that hung on the wall behind him. Sure enough, he was right. Dread spread through you, your brain already kicking into crisis mode. “Shit. God, I’ve got to get this done.”

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” he countered. “You’ve been workin’ like mad all weekend long. I’m not gonna let you run yourself into the ground. So. Shut. The. Laptop.”

He stressed each word, and suddenly you felt what it must’ve been like to have John as a Captain, calm but commanding. Your eyes met his, your mouth open to fight him on the matter, but you found him ready for it, a testing eyebrow raised. It was rare that he would ever tell you what to do, but it always came when he was worried about you and trying to take care of you. Any time you had gotten a significant injury, he had made sure that you stuck to every word of the doctor’s orders. 

You huffed and leaned back, already sensing defeat. Instead, you tried to plead with him, “John, I won’t be able to sleep unless I get this done. I’ll just keep thinking about it.”

He put one hand on the table, leaned toward you, and pushed the laptop closed with the other hand. With his face barely a breath from yours and his eyes darkening, he rumbled, “I can fix that.”

Your body reacted to his sultry insinuation immediately, your heart rate jumping in an instant. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “And how’s that?”

“I’ll make it so that you can barely even think anymore. I’ll wear you out so much you’ll fall asleep without even a thought about this,” he said, tapping the closed lid of your laptop. 

At times like this, you hated how easy it was for him to get you riled up. He knew exactly how to play you, exactly how to make his gravelly voice even more enticing, exactly what to say to get you squirming in your seat for him like you were now. 

You pressed your lips together, thinking for a moment. You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t want this. You were so tired of all the work and John knew exactly how to play you. But if he was going to have some fun, then so were you. With a provocative flit to your voice, you challenged, “Then prove it, Captain.”

For a moment, all he did was let a sultry smile pull at his lips. Then he was on you, his hands guiding you up from your chair and his lips finding yours. It was all fire and passion, but yet not too rushed. No, John never rushed this early. He loved to work you up slowly and leave you begging for him to just touch you already. He followed that playbook now, walking you backwards to press you up against the wall, his hand guarding your head from hitting it. 

As he tilted your head to give his lips access to your neck, he rasped against your burning skin, “Never too stressed to tease me, are you?”

Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive part of your neck, your hands clawing at his back and tangling in his short hair. After a moment, he moved back up to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours for a long while. 

Eventually, his hands on your hips guided you to walk with him towards your shared bedroom. You took turns pulling at the other’s clothes, leaving a trail haphazardly in your wake. By the time you both passed through the doorway, John was only in his boxers and you in your plain black bra and panties. As he laid you back onto the bed, he eyed you as hungrily as he did when you wore lingerie for him. 

“D’ya know how fuckin’ sexy you are, love?��� His hands pressed against your stomach before roaming up, up, up as slowly as possible. Your eyes fluttered shut as he ghosted his hands over your bra, arching shamelessly into his touch. Still drinking the sight of you in, he rasped, ��Gotta take care of you. Gotta make sure I get rid of all that stress, all those worries.”

“John…” you whined, already needy and falling for his plan. One side of his mustache raised in a smile, clearly understanding that he already had you right how he wanted you. “Just touch me, please.”

John chuckled, giving your breasts a quick squeeze before placing a kiss just over your heart. “I am touchin’ you, baby.”

“Fuck, John, you know what I mean.”

He pressed the faintest of kisses up your chest and to your neck. Against the skin of your neck, he teased, “Maybe I don’t. Tell me. Use your words, love.”

Despite his insistence, he gave you no time to answer. Instead, his lips found the sensitive column of your neck, the touch no longer feather-light like it had been before. Now, he kissed and nipped with a passion that had you gasping beneath him. 

“Hhm? I didn’t catch that. Gotta speak up,” he mumbled next to your ear, the heavy timber of it sending shivers down your spine. But you could feel the curve of his lips against your soft skin, his beard prickling you as he did. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you grumbled halfheartedly. Even now, though, you couldn’t resist him. Giving in, you begged, “God, just fuck me, John.”

He made a sound of appreciation, deep and reverberating, the kind you could feel in your own chest. Leaning up over you, his icy blue eyes came to meet yours. “Now, was that really that hard?”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing your own smile as you grabbed his neck and leaned up to give him a bruising kiss. Returning the heat immediately, he dropped the act for a moment. Lips moving in tandem with yours, urgency lacing every movement, you felt him get lost in it. Surely enough, as he adjusted over top of you, you felt his hard-on graze your lower stomach. You chased him, hooking a leg over his hip to roll your hips against him. He groaned into your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. 

“So impatient today,” John chided. He pulled away and sat up, his hands coming to unhook and discard your bra on the floor. As he went to do the same with your underwear, you breathed a sigh of relief thinking that the torture of his teasing was finally over. 

Settling between your thighs, a man in heaven, he brought his mouth close to where you needed him. However, at the last second, his breath dusting your sensitive skin, he turned and brought his lips to the inside of your thigh instead. He still couldn’t hide his smile when you groaned in frustration. 

You were in for a hell of a ride. When he got in a teasing mood like this, there was no stopping him. 

Beard and mustache picking deliciously against you, he kissed up one thigh. Then, when he almost reached your center again, your breath hitching, he switched to the other thigh. There were some days when he did this that it felt like heaven — days when you were already losing yourself to the feel of him before he even got going. While you tried to conjure up that more present, more patient version of yourself, it didn’t seem possible now. You needed him so badly it ached. 

When your fingers found their way into his hair and gave him a light tug in the direction you needed him, he finally let you have your way. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, a small chuckle shaking the broad plane of his back. As he lowered his head, his hooded eyes meeting yours, he purred, “If tha’s really what you want, love. Have it your way.”

With that, he finally brought his tongue to you. Ever so slowly, he licked into you, drawing a gasp from your chest. Sliding his hands up from your hips to hold the sides of your stomach, his tongue made a twin journey up to your clit. He flicked his tongue a few times, slowly testing you.

Though it was all too slow for your liking, he steadily built up the pace. The scrape of his beard. The flick of his tongue. The reverb of his moan as you tugged on his strands. It was a delicious cycle, speeding up each time through. 

You let your head tip back into the pillow as you finally felt that tension in your stomach — a coil winding tighter and tighter. Your breath was ragged now, your legs already bracing around John’s head. 

“Yes,” you panted, eyes squeezed shut. “Just like that. I’m so- I’m so clo-”

Right as you were about to crest that hill, John pulled away all at once. Your orgasm dissipated like a wave against the beach — there one moment and gone the next. 

You whipped your head up to look at him, disbelief and righteous fury in your eyes. You were met only with a hungry, conniving smirk from the infuriatingly sexy man between your thighs. In this moment, even with his beard and the signs of age on his face, he didn’t seem a day older than the first time you had seen this smirk. The John Price that smirked in triumph at you now was the same as the John Price who had done it for the first time nearly a decade earlier. Had you not just had euphoria ripped away from you, you probably would’ve been more sentimental about this revelation. 

“Jonathan Price, I swear to god-”

You were cut off by another one of his chuckles. He licked his lips slowly, making sure you watched as he tasted you. “Still too stressed, love. Don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“You teasing asshole,” you huffed, but the edge was lost to it. 

It only made him smirk even more. “Fine,” he acquiesced, leaning back down. “Let’s try this again.”

At the same time that his mouth found your clit again, one of his hands traveled down to slip a finger into your dripping entrance. A small moan escaped you at the new sensation. As he started to build you back up again, his mouth and finger moving in tandem, you couldn’t help but forget his past transgressions. All that mattered now was the buildup leading to the big drop, the wonder that John could work between your thighs. 

Suddenly, he slipped a second finger into you, drawing a surprised whine from your lips. “Ohh… oh, fuck…”

He groaned in approval, the vibrations of his mouth against you only upping the unbearable pleasure. 

You were there again, so close to the edge that you could practically see it. Your body tensed in anticipation of the drop like a rollercoaster. It was just-

John pulled away again, shattering the buildup to your orgasm for the second time.

You let out a pained hybrid of a groan and a whine. Now, rather than annoyance coursing its way through you, all you had was desperation. “Fuck! John, please!”

“Hmmm, there we go,” he mused. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

“Please let me come, baby,” you pleaded. “I need it so bad.”

Pushing himself up, your heart sunk at the thought that he might keep teasing you and leave you hanging. Though he was never, ever one to leave you wanting, you were too far out of it to think straight anymore. All you knew was that you needed him and he was holding that just out of reach. 

Instead, he climbed up to lean over you. With a gentle hand, he cradled your jaw, making you look at him. Your slick glistened on his chin and beard. His pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of them nearly lost to it. With how much self control he had, his eyes and the tent in his boxers were the only indications that he was as affected by this as you were. 

“D’ya think you’re ready for me, beautiful? Think you can take me?”

You nodded immediately, still breathless. “Need you so bad, baby. Please. I can take it.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding. “That’s my girl.”

Finally, he stripped off his boxers, revealing his red, leaking cock. You couldn’t stop the small whine you made at the sight, your need for him overriding any coherent thought.

John pushed into you in one swift stroke, drawing your nails to scrape across his back. The stretch was delicious, tearing you apart and soothing the insatiable ache in your core at the same time.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he praised. If the feeling of him seated inside you wasn’t already enough to set you ablaze, his praise was. It always was. 

His arms came to rest by either side of your head as he leaned down and stole a heated kiss from your lips. Then, he drew himself slowly out of you before sharply driving back into you again. Your body shook with the force of it, forcing you to break from his lips as you let out the most lewd moan of the night. 

But, of course, that was just the beginning. John continued like that, fucking you harder with every quick snap of his hips until the only sound in your bedroom was the slap of skin on skin and both of your grunts and moans of pleasure.

“This what you needed, baby?” John asked, voice gravelly and breathy. “You needed to get fucked this good?”

Your voice caught in your throat, a strangled sound coming out in place of an affirmation.

He sped up his pace, his cock hitting so deep within you that you had to squeeze your eyes shut. He groaned, “My good girl. Always workin’ so bloody hard. You deserve this — deserve to just let me take care of you.”

Your pussy clenched around him at his praise, drawing groans from you both. You clawed at his back, searching for some sort of tether in the tidal wave of pleasure you were trapped in now. For the third time tonight, you could see the salvation of your orgasm on the horizon. Having been denied it so many times, its immensity and force was almost alarming. 

Though you were too lost in John to think clearly, you were able to gasp out one plea. “Don’t stop! Baby, don’t- don’t stop!”

Rhythm growing sloppy, John assured, “Not gonna stop this time. Been so fuckin’ good for me. Come for me, love.”

That’s all it took to have you falling apart on his cock, the tension in your stomach snapping in an overwhelming flood of euphoria. Breath catching in your chest as you rode out the high, John continued to fuck you through it, murmuring deep praises all the while. 

Just as you were coming back down to earth, your body finally feeling like it was yours again, John was nearing his high. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned, head lowered by your ear. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he was burying himself to the hilt in you, his warm cum coating your walls. You gasped at the feeling as he ground his hips into yours a little.

Still propped on his arms, he sagged down over you, his breath ragged like yours. You dragged a hand up from his shoulder blade and into his hair, letting your fingers card through the soft strands as John came back to you and pulled out. Then, he lifted up enough to meet your gaze again. He took you in for a moment before leaning down and giving you one last heated kiss. 

The two of you clearly spent, he leaned his forehead against yours after he broke away. He brought a large, calloused hand to brush against your cheek. 

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mused. “I love you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

“Feelin’ better?”

“So much better,” you answered. The stress and pressure you had felt for days was gone now, replaced only with the feeling of John. For the first time in a long time, you truly felt relaxed. 

“I told you I could fix it,” he said triumphantly, wiggling an eyebrow at you.

After taking a moment to clean you both up, John crawled back into bed and shifted to spoon you from behind. With his strong arm over your stomach and your legs intertwined, you let him envelop you. As sleep slowly pulled you under, the only thought on your mind was him.

[cultofdixon]

Patching up the holes in your thoughts

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • After finding a safe space to hold up, given everyone’s injuries, Daryl did his best to keep you safe and remind you…you’re not in that dark place anymore • ANGST/SFW • TW: Hallucinations / Head injury / Blood loss / Anxiety / Concussion

Requested by: Anon

She’s okay we’ve got her

Yeah that spill she took was awful

Did you see the amount of blood?

Guys, Daryl is still in the room. He doesn’t have to relive what happened

Siddiq’s right. Let’s get Y/N patched up

Y/N jolts awake in one of the infirmary rooms behind the main room where all the procedures and check ups happen. She anxiously looked around the room feeling a throbbing pain in her head.

The moment she sat up, Siddiq has stepped in to check on her and gave out an obvious sigh of relief.

“Thank god you’re alright”

“Wha…what happened?”

“You were helping with the bridge when one of the Saviors carrying some planks tuned too quickly knocking you in the back of your head. You had caught yourself but given parts of the floor was still being installed, your foot got caught and you went head first into the concrete.”

“Wow…that’s comedic”

“Mm. If you had woken up and brushed it off? Then maybe. But you were out cold and lost a lot of blood.” Siddiq frowns being careful with her when getting the blood pressure cuff on her as Y/N noticed a few bandages scattered on her arm.

“Did you fail the first stick or something?”

“No, again, you lost a lot of blood. So after you got stitches and bandaged, Daryl donated his blood” He states taking the cuff off when it was normal and checked the bandages to make sure they weren’t irritating. “Did you know he’s a universal blood type?”

“Yes, and what his brother did with it.” She frowns feeling the discomfort. “Don’t you dare abuse that fact”

“Hey, if he agrees to it in the future. Then cool, but the second he says no? Ain’t gonna do it. Besides, you’re the most recent serious case we had.” Siddiq sat on the edge of the bed taking out his flashlight pen, something Rosita found and gifted him. He checks the reactivity in her eyes watching her retract a bit to rub her eyes. “I’ll close the blinds, you could have a migraine from being out for a while. But I’d like to keep you here for a few days. Don’t want you going home where your room is upstairs”

“I could sleep on the couch…but I am enjoying a bed”

“Plus, I’m upstairs in case of anything” Siddiq smiles a little. “And Daryl desperately wants to be in here but Rick and Aaron have been keeping him out”

“Why?”

“He saw everything happened. He was stressed out bringing you here, stressed out watching me assess your injuries, and wouldn’t let me work until I’ve checked everything. So he got kicked out”

“Can he come see me?”

“I’d like to have you try and sleep for a while longer. Or at least an hour to do another neuro check…then he can come in”

“Mm…okay” Y/N was disappointed but never refused doctor’s orders.

The thing is, when he left, she was afraid to go back to sleep. Y/N wasn’t one to fear death but hearing what happened freaked her out. She tried her best to remember it for herself but there were holes in her thoughts.

So she did what was asked…and tried falling back asleep. It didn’t take long.

But something felt off…

“Move!” The familiar voice yells over her making her jolt unconsciously.

“I didn’t do anythin’ man. She was in the goddamn way”

“THE FUCK YOU SAY?!”

“Alright alright! There’s something more important to handle right now! ____ get your fucking shit together and get her to Siddiq” The other familiar voice interrupted the other and the unfamiliar one.

The unfamiliar loomed over her unconscious form as the blank expression that was formed on the blurry body, drove a chill down her spine.

“She’s dead”

“NO SHE FUCKIN’ AINT”

The voice she knew continued to argue with this unfamiliar that became voiceless while the scene moved.

“Wow she’s uh. Really bleeding” a new facial voice came into the channel while the warmth that came from this being brought sensations to her physical body. Like she’s felt this before.

“I can see that. She hit her head, but it doesn’t fucking help that this bastard hit her with a plank that knocked her already—then off balance—and then into the fucking concrete”

“___—“

Daryl

“Daryl, please. Your frustration won’t help this situation”

“It hasn’t on the way over here. Tell me where yea need me ___—“

Siddiq

“Get him out of here unless he’s going to be useful” Siddiq snaps applying pressure to the sound as the familiar took Daryl’s bicep feeling him pull away. Which lead to the familiar full on grabbing Daryl and taking him out of there.

Rick

“She’s okay, we’ve got her” Siddiq reassures Rick when he returned to help him. Soon another familiar came rushing through with another that could help with their infirmary experience.

“That spill she took was awful, not to be gruesome about it. But it was like a fruit being thrown at the ground until it exploded”

“That’s fucking vivid ____”

“Did you see the amount of blood?!”

“___—-! ___—-!”

Aaron

Rosita

“Daryl is still within goddamn earshot. Watch what you’re fucking saying”

“Ricks right. Daryl doesn’t have to relive this, okay?” Siddiq made his partner Rosita take a hold of applying pressure while he had Aaron get an IV in while he did a quick stitch job. “Thank god”

“What?”

“I can see her skull”

“WHY IS THAT A GOOD THING?!”

“BECAUSE I CAN SEE ITS NOT CRACKED OR BROKEN OPEN LIKE A COCONUT!” Siddiq snapped out of anxious habit when others yelled at him. Rick held his hands up defensively before watching Aaron tape the IV needle in place and the yelling triggered the archer to come in.

“Ah hell no!”

“If she’s gonna die I ain’t—“

“She’s not going to die!”

“I ain’t fucking leaving her regardless!” Daryl snaps and no one said another word, all that happened was Rick and Aaron sharing a glance and then quickly taking the archer that fought against the two, back out of the room. His anxiety would only make everything worse.

Then a sudden deep breath escaped Y/N and that startled Rosita and Siddiq, but once he took notice that that action helped her start breathing regularly. Overall relief occurred before the work continued.

“She’s dead”

The unfamiliar voice startled her awake from her unconscious state. Y/N sat up finding Siddiq and Rosita were no longer in the room and all there was was this unfamiliar being with a monotoned voice, compared to how it was on the bridge.

“Go away…”

“She’s dead”

“No…No no no I’m not” Y/N whined, holding her head as she tried to get up and leave. Only to realize she wasn’t in an infirmary bed or in that building anymore.

She’s been moved. She has memory of this. But currently she was in an old state of mind that her concussed state from the main injury was starting to trigger the past issue.

“Please…go away” She cried as she stumbled out of the bed making the thud noticeable to others within the house.

“She’s dead. She lost a lot of blood. How could anyone recover—-“

“Y/N?! Y/N oh my god” Daryl opened the door making this image of an unfamiliar being fade away, indicating she was snapping back into her reality.

But she didn’t know that.

“Hey hey hey, you’re okay. What happened? Did yea fall?” Daryl kept asking as he tried to hold her but she retracted at first. “Y/N…”

“You’re not here…this guy wants to hurt me. You’re not here. You’re not here” She sobbed, and it wasn’t going to be an entirely gentle approach to get her to realize that it was Daryl.

The way she started to corner herself in the room continuing to sob shutting her eyes tight. Daryl frowns trying his best not to fall apart at the sight as he quietly brings himself closer sitting on his knees before her. It was a risk, but he carefully took one of her hands feeling the first retraction—but she felt the familiar warmth from before. But different.

“You comfortable?” His voice was always so soothing and his touch was ever so gentle when it came to her fragile state. “I can get you another blanket”

No I’m okay

“Alright, but I’m stayin’ close.” He smiles bringing the blanket over her before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand into his. Rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

You know I won’t break if you leave

“I don’t wanna leave yea”

Can you at least do something when I’m asleep?

“Mmm. You tryin’ to kick me out, sunshine?” Daryl scoffs playfully but he couldn’t help but find himself admiring her smile and laugh again. It was only three days after the accident, and he missed it. He missed it so much.

Of course not, I would love for you to lay with me a while. But I am currently out of service. You can still help rebuild the communities

“Fine. But right now I’m staying” Daryl smiles bringing her hand to gently rest on his cheek so that he could feel that he was there.

“I’m right here, sunshine” His voice was a low whisper that made her re-open her eyes, her blurry tear filled eyes as her thumb gently brushes his cheek feeling the familiar scruffiness he had. “Y/N…”

“I’m sorry…I-I don’t…I don’t know what happened”

“You suffered a head injury…Siddiq warned about your concussion being a bit bad” Daryl frowns bringing himself closer as she brought her other hand to his other cheek. “Hallucinations could happen…not likely but I just…shouldn’t have assumed it not happening”

“…I’m okay now…I think”

“‘M here now. You can’t kick me out cuz imma just stick with yea every day until yer better”

“Please?” Y/N felt the tears fell as he gently brushed them away before bringing his arms around her making her move hers around his neck.

The archer carefully stood while holding his girl and making her legs wrap around his torso until he moved to the bed. Helping her lay down before bringing himself to her other side and laying with her. She carefully brought herself to rest her head against him, making him tense slightly afraid if he moved he’ll hurt her. But she kept her head on his shoulder, part of it where the stitches weren’t.

“I’m never leaving, okay?”

“If…if it happens again” The fear in her voice made Daryl worry as he looks at her waiting. “Will you help me out?”

“I’ll always bring you back, sunshine”

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Waiting For Shanks To Return To Tell Him Surprising News

Shanks X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes and a dagger is involved

Word Count: 1.7k

(A/N:) Hello readers! I should finally start getting back into the swing of things now that Christmas is here! I’ve missed writing so much and I have ideas I’ve been wanting to write especially about One Piece. Back in November I had went to see Red and to made me fall in love with the story. So now I have started reading and watching One Piece and Shanks and Zoro are my faves. So I’m starting out with Shanks but I have an idea for Zoro and an idea for Sanji so just keep an eye out hopefully I can write those soon! But I am still learning about this universe so mostly these imagines are just for funsies so don’t take them too seriously! X3 But it feels good to write again and I look forward to posting more! So until next time happy reading! ~Countess

You stood upon the shore of Foosha Village’s port watching the horizon as you did every evening as the sun began to set in the sky. The salty waves crashing the shore sent droplets of water to spatter against the hem of your flowing gown as the breeze billowed your hair behind you tangling it just enough that you would have to brush it when you got home. Nobody of the village would bother you at these moments, as you were waiting and hoping for Shanks to return and soon. Usually you were on the boat with him just another piece of his large crew. But the last time he docked at Foosha you were ill and couldn’t get well in time for him and the crew to set sail. So he left you with a house upon a private cove overlooking the ocean to see when he sailed in and in the care of Makino as he knew that she would take the best of care of you until you were well again.

“You won’t be long,” you had asked him weakly.

  He gave a gentle smile with a hint of sadness, “I’ll try my best. Wait for me to return upon that far horizon.”

“Okay,” you whispered falling back to sleep to escape another bout of nausea.

That had been six months ago and now you stood upon the sand watching and waiting with a protective hand over your swollen belly. Makino had fetched the village doctor when you hadn’t improved in several days and that’s when your pregnancy was revealed. Wedded to the notorious red haired pirate and now mother to said pirate’s child. You were nervous about how Shanks would take the news when he finally returned, yes he already had an adopted daughter in Uta, but having a baby while he was so busy was something you were afraid he wouldn’t accept. You also feared he’d leave you behind once more, only to never return leaving you alone to raise the child that he helped create. 

You kicked at the sand in frustration as the familiar ship didn’t part the horizon like you hoped. As the temperature began to drop as the sun sank lower you shivered, you decided to go back home. Your older more comfortable clothes no longer fit thanks to your large stomach so you had to make do with the flowing gowns Makino dredged up for you. With soup bubbling in the pot above the fire you dished some out and ate before deciding to just go ahead and sleep. You hadn’t been able to sleep much lately as the baby was beginning to grow more restless and keeping you awake for majority of the night with their squirming and moving. It didn’t take long for you to slip into dreamless sleep as the exhaustion was starting to get too much to bear.

Shanks knew that you wouldn’t be awake at this hour but he had pushed his crew to make it back to you tonight. He had been gone a lot longer than he intended, and while he knew you would understand he couldn’t help but still feel that pang of guilt deep inside. Since getting to know each other you both hadn’t left each other’s sides in so long. So leaving you alone without anyone there at all times of the day was a horrible feeling he never wanted to repeat. His bed in his captains' quarters had never been colder since he had to leave you behind. Now as his crew were about ready to drop he had them rush through docking the ship and making preparations to stay for at least a few days. He had much catching up to do with you and preparing you and all the supplies for an extra person tagging along once more.

 With the familiar boat docked in the bay he searched for you, it was late but he was sure that you would still be up looking for his return. When you didn’t show up rushing towards him with open arms Shanks gave his men free rein to do whatever they pleased (as he knew they wouldn’t take advantage of the good people of Foosha) he made his way towards the place he had bought you to stay. Upon the top of the cove he saw your place all dark and lifeless. He couldn’t stop the panic welling in his chest as horrible thoughts came to his mind. Surely you were okay? Shanks rushed in catching the door with his one hand before it could bang against the wall, while he was losing his mind he knew that there could still be the possibility that you were just sleeping. His worries eased as he saw the freshly dirty dishes and the smoldering fire in the hearth, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you. So to the bedroom he went where the sight that he beheld made him suck in a breath. There you laid, sleeping peacefully, warm blankets pulled to your chin. Though covered he could tell the difference in your form. Gone was the shape of the woman who was used to fighting, sailing, and climbing. Now you were round and soft and Shanks knew that the feelings that were rolling under the surface wasn’t just from seeing you for the first time in forever. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize that you were pregnant and heavily so. He sat on the edge of the bed not really wanting to wake you but having a hard time controlling his self. Reaching out with a calloused hand he brushed hair from your open mouth. Your face scrunched and you mumbled something he couldn’t make out, it made him chuckle. You immediately went into action, hand rushing to underneath your pillow, you pulled a dagger out holding it to his throat in a threatening motion.

“Who are you,” you snarled ready to slit your intruder’s throat.

“Hello to you too beautiful,” Shanks chuckled again and the dagger was dropped immediately.

“Shanks??”

“Yeah,” he sighed gathering you in his arm, “it’s me sweetheart.”

“Sorry that your first greeting back was a blade to your throat.”

“Not the worst greeting I’ve ever received,” he smiled cupping your cheek. “It’s good to know that you never lost those reflexes that you honed all those years sailing with me.”

“Well,” you pinched his cheek, “I can’t spoil my husband’s good name by being weak.”

“You’ve never been mistaken for weak and never will be. I’m the idiot who left you though in this condition.”

You hung your head ashamed, “We didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t send word to you. I was afraid you wouldn’t be happy.”

“How could I not be happy?! This is amazing and such a surprise. Who knew your sickness was just symptoms from being pregnant?”

“I’m sure the rocking boat didn’t help with the puking and bouts of nausea.”

“Yeah we rocked the boat ourselves on several occasions that’s what got you into this state in the first place,” the mischievousness in his gaze was not lost on you.

“Shaaaaaanks,” you whined punching his shoulder.

“Kidding,” he kissed you softly. “But not really, cause it is the truth.”

Moments passed by quietly as you just held one another basking in the presence that you both missed greatly. The sound of the ocean outside your little home bringing back so many memories over the years you both had spent on the high seas together. It was just a perfect moment that Shanks knew he had to interrupt, though he didn’t want to.

“Want to go see the crew,” he asked breaking the peace. “They’ve missed you almost as much as I have.”

Though your body was exhausted and you were embarrassed about how big you have grown, you couldn’t deny your red haired pirate or his lovable crew. “I need to change into something warmer and can you help me get there? The walk has been getting more difficult in my state.”

“You don’t even need to ask.”

Shanks held your hand tightly as he helped you down some of the steep slopes to the sandy beach below. While your little cove away had seemed so cold and lonely the last few months, this was the first time in awhile you enjoyed the walk with the warm hand squeezing yours with gentle pressure. Life without Shanks around was boring but mostly it was lonely. His warming presence was something you never really thought about until it wasn’t around. And whatever fear that had been pressing upon you, keeping you from enjoying watching your baby grow within you dissipated with his contagious grin. His ship came into view and you could see the guys buzzing back and forth taking care of the ship’s needs before theirs. You glared at your sheepish husband at seeing how exhausted his men were.

“I couldn’t help it,” he defended himself. “I was desperate to see you and so were they.”

“Treat them to a good meal tomorrow and some good ale,” you elbowed him.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed wanting to stay in your good graces. As soon as the hard working crew spotted you with their captain a roaring cheer lifted into the night sky. You could have sworn the ship rocked even harder than the waves crashing against it with the excited men. You laughed using Shanks as a sturdy crutch as you waddled across the shifting sand. They tossed themselves overboard stampeding toward you and Shanks. Shanks pulled you protectively into his side bracing you behind him just in case his rambunctious men got out of control. But as soon as they saw your condition they skidded to a stop in awe. “Surprise,” you teased sheepishly. Silence passed before a loud roar sounded out and several sharp slaps to Shanks back left him staggering and his back stinging. Some of the men softly asked if they could touch their stomach, as they were remembering pregnant wives at one point in their lives. You agreed tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as they accepted you and the little one inside. It felt so good to have your husband and friends back and you couldn’t wait to get back onto the seas sailing with your family with a new addition in tow.

[sp00kysk3lly]

I spoke to the GP this morning about my constant pain I feel when I walk, the bad pain in my chest when I walk and breath when I walk, my sleeping which I am now using alcohol to deal with (not that I told them that yet).

What did they say? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Literally just told me that the pain is caused by my multiple chronic illnesses, which it’s not. There’s no evidence of that. Yes type one can cause nerve problems, but it’s not that. I know it isn’t. I’ve been tested for all of that. And every test has come back normal.

Then they told me that I can’t have any more sleeping pills because they are “addictive” and “wouldn’t work”. So what? Am I suppose to drink vodka every night when I go to sleep? It’s like they want me to mess up my life and become an alcoholic. Because that’s what it’s going to come too, I’m going to rely on it to get me to sleep, then what do you think is going to happen? You’re the doctors, you tell me!

But they did prescribe me my eye drops so that’s all ok then! As long as I got my fucking eye drops, it’s all ok. Even though I wouldn’t need the eye drops if I could fucking sleep.

Honestly think the NHS just don’t want to help me. They see my name pop up on the system and think, “nah, we ain’t helping him. We’re sick of him even though he has done absolutely nothing wrong to us!”

Just want to punch and kick these doctors until there’s no more of them. I should be the doctor, I’ve got more experience with medical issues than they clearly do.

I’m the one that diagnosed my diabetes before they did, I’m the one who knew I had a bowel condition before they did, I’m the one who knew I had a bladder problem before they did.

One doctor even said I could walk on a broken hip???? Yeah, no. No you can not, Dr Do Fuck All!

Damn these people just piss me the fuck off now. I don’t know what I’ve done to be treated this way by the whole of NHS, but it’s really affecting my mental health and it’s honestly making me just want to die sooner.

[imbricare]

Arthur frowns, nods his chin at the bottle of Maker’s Mark. “For that?” He scoffs, perfectly measured and calm, like they aren’t standing in his kitchen discussing the quality of the mid-shelf hooch he hides on the Useless Gifts shelf in his liquor cabinet. He probably got it from his brother-in-law who had a knack for gifting things that collected dust more often than brownie points. “Don’t worry about it.”

But it’s Eames, isn’t it, and whatever slippery ground they’re on – You show me yours, I’ll show you mine – cracks under Arthur’s offhandedness, a trait he’s all too aware doesn’t earn him a lot of favors but that’s served him in good stead in other ways over the years. You don’t keep yourself alive by caring too much, or too deeply, or too quickly. 

(Even if the fact remains that he does, he does, he does.)

He watches Eames the way he always does: eyes pinched at the corners, that look that perpetually hovers between disaffected and all business, like Eames is a bullet point entry on a list that Arthur hasn’t figured out yet how to prioritize. 

What’s the square root of a business problem that has somehow gotten personal? He doesn’t know and that makes him uncomfortable as fuck because he never lets things become personal. Not since Mal, anyway. 

“I wasn’t stateside when I got the baptism.” The baptism alone takes him back, that slang of the early days for what it felt like: that cold dive under, the world rocking in and out of motion and back in again. It’s different these days, Arthur finds, even though he struggled to describe it to Ariadne when she asked: Like the river comes up to meet you instead of the other way around was the best he could manage, and then a couple hours later, Yusuf had driven a van down a bridge and they all woke up submerged and drowning and none of it had mattered anyway, like it never did, not in the thick of things.

Shit, he has been on sabbatical for too long, hasn’t he?

He files away the knowledge of six years of sobriety and he vaguely has to wonder if Eames wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t realize Arthur was right there, yesterday, when his medic buddy had finally set to work.

“Hold him down, yeah?” “Why don’t you wait for the sedative to kick in?” “What? The amount of sedatives he’d need to be fully out of it, I’d need him in an OR and hooked up to the big shit.” “Wait, he’s gonna feel this?” “Nah, he’s out enough for most of it. Just a little, maybe.”

Every childhood contains a lesson about doctors saying This will hurt just a little, and Arthur’s had been no different – so he grit his teeth and rolled up his sleeves and got on with it, and after that, Brownlow hadn’t been a man of many words, hadn’t hung around longer than it took to down a coffee while it was still steaming hot, and get into an Uber to take him back to Newark. By that time, Eames was already sleeping the sleep of the dead (not quite) and Arthur had his apartment back to himself, with the uncanny knowledge that his snarky British co-worker was currently occupying the room his ten-year-old nephew usually stayed in. 

“Kandahar,” he says, finally, and if there’s a trace of surprise in his voice it’s because he really thought Eames would have known. The fact that the Army contracted Mal for Operation Dreamshare wasn’t a secret between them, who had made up Mal’s core team for the years to come – the precious few that were left to her – and Arthur had always assumed that the fact Eames didn’t ask was either down to him already knowing or him not caring. Not that anything changed, really. “So yeah, I know what it was like at the start. To be honest, I…” 

Arthur reconsiders. He reaches into the drawer to his left, finds a pack of Tylenol between DayQuil and antacids, and drops it on the counter in front of Eames. His eyebrow quirks. “Knock yourself out,” he adds mid-sentence. “I’ve mostly stuck with routine jobs since inception.” That’s a white lie: Yeah, he dabbles in the scene here and there, comes in for recommendations and the occasional on-site support gig, but he hasn’t gone under since, either. 

The opportunity hasn’t presented itself is on the tip of his tongue but that wouldn’t even be white lie anymore, that’d just be a blatant lie. Truth is, he hasn’t trusted himself enough to-

To not end up like Cobb? To not end up like Eames, with that monkey on his back for the rest of his life?

“Haven’t dreamed since, actually,” it slips out the same moment Eames says Thanks and Arthur blinks, whether in surprise about himself or about Eames, he doesn’t know. Alright. He clears his throat. “Want something to eat?”

Arthur’s expression barely flickered. Eames wasn’t sure if that was flattering or insulting.

The guilt made his palms sweat. It didn’t matter how firmly he told himself that this was sensible, actually; that he was choosing the right option, and that he was doing it for the right reasons, his internal monitor was blaring, so loudly that it felt like a pounding in his head. Or maybe his head was actually pounding; it was hard to tell. Probably both; he still felt dehydrated, and he helped himself to a second bottle of water and poured the hot water into the tea, grimacing. A stove kettle. Liptons. Well, it was better than a microwave, and the sugar would help more than anything. The ritual, too, the pouring and letting it steep, and the smell of the steam coming off the top as the water darkened, reminding him of his mother and how she never took milk with anything. Ruins the flavour, she’d say, even when drinking instant coffee. His lips were cracked and dry and he was thinking of his mother. Jesus Christ.

It wasn’t that he didn’t drink. God, he drank. But this tasted different to him; it tasted of temptation and panic. He focused on his breathing as he sat back at the counter, keeping it slow and steady, sipping at the tea too soon so he burned his tongue; the sensation helped ground him. He nodded at Arthur in thanks and uncapped the bottle, barely taking in the expensive weight of the glass and the slender, elegant label, sloshing a healthy measure into his cup. He might’ve offered it to Arthur as a half-joke, but he was feeling a little too fragile to acknowledge the whiskey more than he had to, so he just screwed the cap back on one handed and pushed it away. It made a satisfying swish on the countertop. This time when he took a sip, it burned in a different way, and he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips, exhaling heavily. It would help, he told himself. It would help more than telling Arthur he was heading off, spending five minutes rifling through his drawers, and walking to the nearest park to spend whatever cash he found on a handful of oxy and a hotel room.

At Arthur’s question his head shot up. He regretted it instantly; pain burst in front of his eyelids, like the worst hangover in the world. The kitchen lights were too bright and everything felt too sharp, Arthur’s face most of all; too beautiful, really, the lines too clean. But his words were perfect; they cut through the haze, and made Eames laugh. That was all Arthur: seeking knowledge above all things. He was probably seeking to fill in a blank, a empty category in his little filing cabinet in his mind named Eames: Weaknesses; subsection - substances. God, but it felt good to be direct. It felt good to be honest. Eames finished the tea, though it was too warm, really, to drink so fast, and pulled the heavy glass bottle back towards himself, giving up on all pretence. His eyebrow flickered as he uncapped it and poured another helping into the bottom of his cup. “I’ll pay you back,” he said, meaning: for the Bourbon. For the bed. For the surgery and the vomiting and whatever the hell else you had to do to keep me alive these past few days. But mostly for the Bourbon.

After the second measure, Eames felt steadier. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then wiped his forehead and grimaced at the cold sweat there. “Honestly, it never hit me that way. Not as an addiction, anyway. I’d been on other shit before dreamsharing even came into it - it was everywhere in Musayyib, you know, and the shit they gave me for this,” he gestured to his thigh, where the bullet had been dug out in more sanitary conditions than Arthur’s house, but still left a deep depression in the skin like a thumb print, “was something else.” He whistled long and slow. “Mate. I’d give up - fuck, what, six years of sobriety? - for some of that stuff right this second.” He waved the bottle of Bourbon, as if to say, this is enough, and his expression turned serious again. “No, the somnacin was - well, you know what it was like at the start, and I bet you guys had better stuff over here than we did. When it was at its most addictive, right at the beginning, when they had Cobb building cellars and handcuffs, we weren’t having pleasant dreams; all any of us wanted was to wake up again. So I was lucky, in that sense.” When he grinned it came back in a rush of memory, the taste of blood etched around his teeth. “Now? Well.” He poured again, then capped the bottle, a deliberate gesture, enough. The pain was fading; the light hurt his eyes less. “I don’t use it enough to know. This was my first time under since…”

Eames stopped himself. Somehow, even here, saying the word inception felt too risky. Instead he tried to roll his injured shoulder back to loosen the tendons and stifled a groan, but the whiskey had relaxed him enough that he was able to move it, little by little. He imagined his joints grinding together and giving off sparks. The word came unbidden, no space between thinking and speaking: “thanks.”

[embrassemoi]

“Man takes a drink. A drink takes the drink. And then the drink takes a man. Isn't it so, Dad?”

EWAN MCGREGOR as DANNY TORRANCE in DOCTOR SLEEP (2019)

[thesuperiorrobin]

“I don’t like sleeping alone anymore ”

❥Pairing: Damian Wayne x FemReader

❥word count: 997

❥Summary: Damian confronts you after acting weird this past couple of days do Ku to find out you haven’t been sleeping, but for what reason?

❥Warning: mentions of nightmares

You had always had trouble sleeping, to the point where you had to go to the doctor so they could prescribe you medication but that never worked. The nightmares that you suffered constantly always came back. The lack of sleep had caused you to zone out in the middle of class, Damian had noticed. Noticing the way you would fall asleep and quickly jolt awake made him worry. He thought you were just pulling all nighter for an upcoming test, but that wasn’t the case here.

It wasn't until he had come to visit you during his patrol late at night when he realized.

You always leave your bedroom window open for him, making it easier for him to enter and he finds you struggling to keep yourself awake—sitting by your desk, leaning over it with a bright lamp as the only light source in your room. Watching as your head bobbles itself up and is trying to keep the weight up.

He frowns, gently walking up to you—the ex-trained-assassin's footsteps are quiet as he approaches you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

You jolted wide awake, head snapping to the side to see who’s hand it was. Eyes soften when you realize it was just Damian in his Robin suit.

“Oh Damian!” You whispered loudly— for only him to hear fearing you might wake up your sleeping parents “sorry. I was getting homework done. Math and my forensic class are really kicking my ass this semester”

A tired laugh escapes past your lips as you try to hide back a yawn.

“Are you alright, beloved?” Damian worriedly tilts his head “you’ve been….more inactive lately. Not in a bad way, but in a way that doesn’t seem yourself”

When Damian worries about you it makes you feel guilty. Not because he’s focused just on you but because you don’t tell him what’s bothering you. He always reassures you that you are his top priority—having a whole conversation between the two of you about why you’re first and his life outside of Damian Wayne comes second. You think saving the world is more important than you having silly nightmares that will eventually go away at some point.

“Oh it’s nothing. I’ve just been caught up with school and all I barely have time to sleep”

You lied and Damian knows it—which pains him even more. He lets out a soft sigh as his hands grasp the chair you sat on and he pulls it towards him. He grasps your hand shortly after and pulls you up to your feet.

“You’re having trouble sleeping,” he says. Pulling you away from your desk and turning off the light—still having a tight soft hold on your hand. “Those circles under your eyes tell me you haven’t slept not an ounce in a while. Have you not?”

Your silence was enough for him as he dragged you to your bed. He motions for you to get comfortable and you do so without a word. Silently watching as he opens your closet—pulling out a pair of night clothes fit for him, seeing as he left him in your bedroom when he secretly sleeped with you during summer vacation. You play with your fingers as he changes. Damian doesn’t like the silence you give him. He rather have you talk his ears off like you always do, talking about random subjects that come to mind. When you didn’t do that however he knew something was wrong.

“What wrong y/n” Damian climbs into bed, sitting right next to you as he once Gaona graos your hand into his. His thumb is softly rubbing at the back of your hand.

“It’s nothing really” you let out a laugh hoping to make things a bit more lighter “I’m just tired from all the school work”

“You are lying, beloved. And the only reason I know that is because you aren’t looking me directly in the eyes like you a always do”

You always hated how observant Damian was.

“Please tell me what’s wrong”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders—pulling you closer to his side as you gripped his fingers snuggling closer into his side. Having a wave of protectiveness and a warm feeling in your chest. He gently rubs his tan cheek against yours, digging his face into your neck.

“Never” he whispers into your ear.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips and Damian holds you tighter.

“Nightmares” you choke back a small sob “they just keep coming back. No matter what I do. No matter how much help I get they always come back. I know they aren’t real but…they just feel so real it’s scary. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll come true. I can’t keep doing it. I can’t keep going to sleep if those nightmares keep coming back. And I can’t keep staying up. I’m losing my mind—im falling behind in most of my classes. I just can’t- I just don’t like to sleep alone anymore-“

Damian listened carefully, still holding you close as you cried out to him about your nightmares. The ones that keep you up—hunting you. He mentally wishes he could just fight them for you but that’s just a silly thought. He waits until you’ve calmed yourself down. Once you’ve done that he lays the both of you down. Fixing the position you were both in.

Laying on your side in your lover's arms. Just the way you liked it.

“You don’t have to worry, beloved” he gently twirls a strand of your hair or two around his finger, “as silly as I’m about to sound and as much as it pains me to say—I’ll help you fight those horrid nightmares of yours. Or I’ll do it myself. As for now I’ll stay with you for that night. How does that sound?”

“I’ll…I’ll like that”

[worldofheroes]

A Family, With You

doctor strange x fem!reader, reader x america chavez (platonic, mother/daughter)

summary: When Stephen sees you care for America after she’s been crying, he realizes something he never thought he’d ever want to do.

warnings: none besides it’s mostly reader caring for America, it’s just wholesome.

a/n: I’m so sorry (I’m not at all sorry) I’m stuck in this domestic strange world

Ever since America came into you and Stephen’s lives, things became… different.

A good different, though. You had mentioned to Stephen once or twice before that you wanted kids, but he was hesitant. He always claimed that after working with Peter Parker made him lose interest in having kids.

You reminded him that Peter was a kid with superpowers.

While America also had superpowers, none of that mattered when it came to the young girl. As the three of you began to get to know each other, you and Stephen became smitten with her.

“Wong told me America is learning quickly,” you tell Stephen late one night as the two of you get in bed.

“Yes, she’s doing great,” Stephen smiles. “She needs to slow down from what I’ve heard.”

“Reminds me of someone else,” you tease.

“Watch it,” Stephen snips.

You smile as you move closer to Stephen, and he wraps his arms around you.

“I’m glad she’s here,” you say, staring at the ceiling.

“Me too,” Stephen says, holding you even tighter.

There’s a soft knock on your door, you almost didn’t hear it.

“America, is that you?” you call out.

“What are you saying?” Stephen asks.

“You didn’t hear that?” you ask him, furrowing your brow. You get out of bed and walk to the door.

You slowly open the door to see America standing there, eyes watery.

“Oh, honey, are you okay?” you say, wrapping her up in a hug.

Stephen gets out of bed to join you, his face riddled with concern.

“I like living here with you guys but… I miss my moms,” America says.

“I know, I know,” you hum, holding her close and rubbing her head gently.

“We’re going to find them, America,” Stephen whispers.

“Can I… stay with you guys for tonight?” America says, still sniffling from the crying session you’re sure she had moments earlier.

You glance over to Stephen. He nods.

“Of course, come on,” you say, taking her hand and helping her to the bed.

Stephen gets into bed on the other side, and you lay between him and America.

“I’m sorry, I feel stupid asking to do this,” America says.

“You’ve been through some traumatic events, America. I understand. You can stay with us whenever you want,” you tell her.

“We’ll always be here for you, kid,” Stephen chimes in.

“Thank you,” America says, wiping the tears from her face.

You pull her into a hug and kiss the top of her head. You hum to her softly as she falls asleep.

The next morning, Stephen is already out of bed when you wake up. You move, and America doesn’t wake. You pull the blankets up around her and quietly leave, heading to the library where you know you can find Stephen.

“Hey you,” you say upon entering.

“(Y/n),” Stephen says with a soft smile, standing up. “How’s America?”

“She’s still sleeping, but I’m going to go back after I talk to you so she’s not alone.”

“You’re a great mom,” Stephen says.

“What?” you say, slightly caught off guard.

“You’d make a great mom. I mean, your motherly instincts are kicking in with America here and… It makes me want to have our own kids.”

“Oh,” you say, still trying to get your thoughts straight.

Stephen wraps you up in a hug. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s not that, I just… never would’ve thought you’d want kids.”

“I think my life situation has changed dramatically recently, and I like the change.”

“Well, I’d say you need to put a ring on it and maybe we can discuss kids,” you tell him with a mischievous smile.

“I’ll think about it.” Stephen leans down and kisses you. “You better get back to America and make sure she’s okay.”

“Alright, as long as you think about what I said,” you tease, walking away from him.

“I told you I would!”

You get back to the bedroom and America is still asleep. You get into bed next to her, and she stirs, moving to face you and snuggling close.

“I love you,” she mutters, half asleep.

You kiss her head and fall back asleep next to her, happy with the family you’ve created with Stephen.

[thetinyadventurer]

Oh my god thank you so much for that! 🤣 That was terrifying to type out/explain! Social Anxiety is a bitch to have.

And no problem! 👍🏻

Lol Clydesdale feet! God, I miss having horses!

I wish I was tall, too (and pretty and strong and kick ass and more organized). Huh, maybe that’s why I like Helga so much… I guess I envy her a bit. Then again, I think she might’ve been viewed as different, too, but in a different way than me. The girl’s an Army Brat, basically, and never stayed in one place for very long. She’s tall for a woman and knows how to kick butt which, to me, is cool. She commands respect from the people around her. However, she probably doesn’t have that many friends due to her icy demeanor and the walls she probably puts up to keep people from knowing too much about her. (Hell, even Milo admitted that she intimidates him and he’s Mr.Friendly!) Given the era she was born in and people’s values at the time (plus their views on women), I think she’d scare a ton of men (and other women) away. I mean, back then women were expected to just stay at home and do house work and here’s this chick going out on dangerous missions with a bunch of tough guys. She “wears the pants” so to speak and I feel like a lot of guys, back then, would find it emasculating and would reject her.

LMAO! Any guy she tried to date would be fucking terrified of her HA! 🤣 They’d think she’d probably kill them in their sleep! Anyway, to modern women she’d be badass but in her era she’d be a freak… And suddenly, that’s the most comforting thing I could think of; That this chick isn’t “normal” at all and now that I think on it, that’s why she’s awesome.

Hmm, maybe that’s why she got along with Rourke? They’re both tall/intimidating people, they both have relationship issues, both had unconventional childhoods… No wonder they got along! Both of them are different!

Hell, the entire Atlantis cast is different in their own way! Milo is smart and sweet, Audrey’s a mechanic before the profession really took off, Vinny likes to blow things up, Cookie is an old fart who can’t cook but still does it anyway. Sweet is an African-American/native American man who chooses to help people as a doctor despite being born in one of the most racist times in the united states (post-civil-war). He’s a man who, despite all the hatred going on in the world, chooses to be kind! Mrs.Packard, on the other hand, doesn’t give a fuck! Mole is just… Mole. 😅 And Rourke had probably one of the toughest childhoods I’ve ever read about! I just wanna give the poor guy a hug!

Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why the movie resonated with me so much as a child? Because everyone in the movie was different in their own way and yet they were all friends with each other and were using their own unique skills/differences to go find a lost city that everyone doubted existed! Nobody else could’ve done it but them and in fact, I’d go so far as to say that the things that made them different are what made them so strong and amazing!

So… I guess I should be a little kinder to myself even though it’s hard. 😅

Sorry for the tangent my brain had a “lightbulb moment”/epiphany.

Seriously, what is it about these two jerks that makes me smile so big?! And how can they make being bad look like so much fun?!

[okay-j-hannah]

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act

Doctor Who : Multishot

Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 5616

Warnings: AHHH this is IT! the EPILOGUE. I’m so proud I managed to get this far with this series. It’s been such a long time coming - thank you to those that stuck with it! There’s a fair amount of FLUFF here!!!!

Request: This is just from my own head 😊

A/N: The Doctor takes you on a ‘practice’ honeymoon - full of antics, new friends, and telepathy - and perhaps the final question. Does he propose? Happily ever after?

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 5: The Regeneration

Part 6: The Lost Shoes

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act {You Are Here}

Finale: All Of Time And Space

The bed wouldn’t stop wiggling, swaying (Y/N) from her deep sleep. She groaned, shifting uncomfortably until her eyes opened lazily. It was still pitch dark.

She rubbed at her face, suddenly noticing that the mattress was weighed down on her left side. It was easy to notice as she normally slept in the middle of the bed.

She lifted her head and saw the Doctor snuggled there, buried under her blankets and cuddling her pillows.

(Y/N) rested on her elbows, sighing at him. The conclusion was clear: he had another nightmare.

She leaned over and poked his nose. He scrunched his face and grumbled.

“What are you doing?”

He took a deep calming breath, surrounded by (Y/N). Her room. Her bed. Her blankets. Her smell. Herself.

The Doctor scooted towards her, eyes still closed, “Safe.”

Her brow creased, smirking, “You being cryptic again?”

He nudged even closer to her, his head now reaching her shoulder, “Safe.”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, looking at the serenity of his face. Quietly she lifted her arm, and he took full advantage, wriggling into her embrace and holding her torso.

She giggled, getting comfortable again with their arms wrapped around each other. She began combing through his hair, one of his new favorite pastimes. It was lulling him to sleep.

His breath tickled her collarbone. (Y/N) rested her cheek against his head, running her fingers down the base of his neck.

She sighed into him, whispering, “I love you.”

She felt the Doctor stop breathing against her. And in a matter of seconds his fingers tickled her as he climbed his way to her face to kiss every inch of it.

“HA! Doctor!”

He peppered kisses along her cheeks and nose and lips. “I love you too!”

~~~

The Doctor wrung his hands, hunching his shoulders against the console. “Romantic. I can be romantic, can’t I? Of course I can – I’m a professional – the king of romance. Don’t quote me on that.”

Amy had her arms folded tightly, leaning against the railing. Rory was sitting beside her and fiddling with a ring box. The one they were meant to keep safe.

“How am I supposed to get her to say yes if I don’t ask her right?” the Doctor slammed his hands into his eyes.

“She’s going to say yes regardless of how you ask her,” Amy retorted, “You’re overthinking this, Doctor.”

“I’m going to mess it up, I know I will,” he rambled, “If I wasn’t so much of an idiot…”

Amy yelled out, “Oi! You’re clever and you know it.”

“A clever idiot,” the Doctor now said, “How can I convince (Y/N) to marry me?”

“How can you ever doubt that she’ll say yes?”

Rory piped up, “He has a point.”

Amy kicked him with her foot as the Doctor pointed at him in thanks.

“What?” Rory cried, “It’s natural to doubt even if you’ve been together for years.” He waited for Amy to kick him again, “You did run off on our wedding night – a bloke worries.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N) is the type that would settle down and enjoy a family life.”

The Doctor groaned, “This isn’t helping!”

“What do you want us to say?” Amy asked, “I’ve already told you there’s nothing to worry about. She’s going to say yes.”

Rory opened the box and peered at the ring, “Maybe you just need to be certain she’s ready for the question.”

Amy scoffed, “Oh, please. She’s ready.”

“How do you know?”

“Girls talk.”

Rory rested his arms on his knees, “Yeah, but the Doctor would like to know that for himself.”

“How do I do that?” the Doctor wrung his hands again.

“A date.”

“A date!” he exclaimed as if it were an original thought. “We’ll go on an adventure that’s actually a date – she won’t know that of course – but I’ll know it.”

Amy gaped, “What?”

The Doctor twirled around, finding a spare compartment on the console and rummaging through it. He yanked out a baseball, an umbrella, and a hair dryer before extracting a jewelry box.

“It will be a cleverly devised plan where I’ll find out if she’s ready to be married – if she’d want to marry me – and what her preferences are on how to be asked.”

Amy had a crease in her brow, gawking at him, “Do you remember when I said you were overthinking this? It’s getting worse.”

The Doctor pulled a couple things from the jewelry box, tossing it over his shoulder. It shattered on the floor.

“Nonsense,” he said, holding one of the small objects to the light, “I’m clever, remember?”

“A clever idiot.”

The Doctor placed the object onto his finger. It was a simple golden band. “Right, (Y/N)!”

“What are you doing?” Rory cried out, shoving the ring box into his pocket. “I thought there was going to be some planning.”

“There has been planning,” the Doctor said, admiring his ring, “This was the planning.”

“What is the date, then?” Rory asked, flabbergasted.

“(Y/N)!” the Doctor shouted, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll hear all about it during girl talk. (Y/N), I need you!”

From the top of the stairs came (Y/N), a thick novel in her hand and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, “What are you yelling about? I was in the library.”

“Ah, having a swim?” the Doctor asked, knotting his fingers.

(Y/N) scrunched her brow, but smiled, “I was reading,” she held up her book, “And having a cuddle on the couch.” She lifted the edge of her blanket.

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor laughed quite unlike himself, “Bit nervous I suppose.” He then sprinted towards the stairs to reach her.

“Nervous about what?”

“We’ve got a top secret mission,” he said, flinging the blanket from her shoulders with a flourish, “And you and I are going undercover.”

“Undercover?” she laughed, lifting her novel away from his hands, “You are not throwing my book.”

The Doctor snapped his fingers, “All right, just set it down. We’ve got to go!” He ran to the console to set their destination.

“Hello, Amy – Rory,” she said, used to the Doctor’s antics by now. “Enjoying your morning?”

Rory got to his feet rather clumsily, folding his arms to hide the bulge in his coat pocket. “Fine, fine. How about you?”

“Well, I was getting to an exciting bit in my book before being rudely interrupted.”

“What are you looking at me like that for?” the Doctor asked.

(Y/N) sighed, “And Amy… why are you looking all huffy?”

“I am not,” she retorted, “Your boyfriend is just working on my last ounce of patience.”

“He tends to do that,” (Y/N) said, “How exactly are we going undercover?” She turned to the console to see the Doctor waving his left hand around. Something was twinkling there.

“A married couple. Has a nice ring to it. AHA, get it?” he jumped down towards her, brandishing something in his hand, “Figured it’d make things easier where we’re going.”

She stared at the second ring. It was a simple gold band, slimmer than the one the Doctor had on. And this one had a tiny white diamond in the middle.

“Do you like it?” he asked, lightly taking her left hand and gently placing the ring on her finger.

She didn’t respond for a while – she was too preoccupied trying to memorize the feeling of the Doctor giving her a ring.

“Um… well, I prefer silver. I like the simplicity, small diamonds. But perhaps a bit more of those, and maybe something a bit more unique with the band.”

The Doctor was looking at her with such seriousness, as if he were locking that into memory. “Yes, good to know – thanks for that. But for now, will that suffice?”

(Y/N) giggled, lifting her hand to admire the way it looked, “I suppose for now.” She squinted her eyes at him, “What are you trying to do?”

The Doctor twiddled his fingers, running to the door, “Uuuhhh… questions for later. At the moment we are undercover.”

She gave a look to Amy and Rory, “I expect an explanation when we get back.”

Rory nodded to her, avoiding her gaze, but Amy rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out by the end of the day.”

“Come along, wife,” the Doctor said, all giddy like, “Let’s go.”

“All right, husband,” she said. It made the Doctor giggle again. “Let’s have that adventure.”

They joined hands and left the TARDIS. They were outdoors. They were surrounded by a beautiful pine forest, bristling in the light breeze. Birds were chirping and a river was somewhere nearby, rushing against rocks.

Ahead was a log and stone cabin, framed by trees and mountains. Peculiarly the mountains glistened like they were made from more than just rock. The cabin was many stories high and had extensions including a probable greenhouse and an elaborate back garden full of hedges, fields, and meadows.

“Is this… an outdoor retreat?” (Y/N) asked.

The Doctor squeezed her hand, “Smell that fresh air!” He took a dramatic breath. “We’ve got to go check in.”

“Is this an excuse to go on holiday together? Cause that’s basically what we do every time we go out on an adventure.”

The Doctor pulled on her hand, “No, no – we’re still undercover to gather information.”

“What kind of information?” They padded along a cobblestone path.

“That’s uh… classified.”

(Y/N) laughed, letting the Doctor open the large oak front door for her. “Maybe Amy is right. I’ll figure your motives out before long.”

A hostess desk was just inside and a cheery woman, who was clearly not human, greeted them with a blueish smile.

“Good afternoon, how are you?”

“Splendid,” the Doctor said, “My wife and I are wanting a little weekend getaway.” He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulling her into him excitedly.

The hostess grinned, “Oh, how nice! Is this visit for any particular reason?” She opened a logbook to check for room availability.

The Doctor couldn’t stop his smiling, “Well, it’s actually our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” the hostess said, almost sad, “Oh, you should’ve called ahead. We could’ve set up the entire honeymoon suite and perks with the purchase of the honeymooners package deal.”

“Good to know,” the Doctor said, “But that’s all right. Is there something else complimentary that we could enjoy while we’re here?”

(Y/N) leaned over, “It’s really all right, we’re just here to enjoy the scenery.”

The hostess nodded, “Yes, well – at the moment we’re accommodating some families and other guests for our annual stargazing fest. There’s quite the spectacular shooting star show tonight. Seeing as you’re an obviously lovely newly married couple… I could give you a discount on a room with a balcony – beautiful views. And I’ll slip you into the VIP dining room, free of charge.”

“Spectacular,” the Doctor remarked, “Put us down for the weekend.”

“Really, thank you for the trouble. We appreciate it.” (Y/N) removed the Doctor’s arm, so they were holding hands again. “Never let the husband plan the first trip – lesson learned.”  

The Doctor looked offended, but the hostess interrupted, “Here is the key to your room. There is a luncheon just in the back garden now. Feel free to enjoy a meal before going up.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said, taking the key before the Doctor, “Have a lovely evening.” She tugged on his hand, and they made for the glass double doors to the dining room and back garden.

“Lesson learned?” the Doctor mocked.

(Y/N) patted his arm, “Oh, hush. This is all undercover work – we’re playing a part.”

They peered around at the few tables set in the garden. There was really only space at one table with two men.

(Y/N) tugged on the Doctor, “Come along. If we’re here we might as well be sociable.”

“Shall I introduce us as Dr. and Mrs.?”

She made a face, “Let’s stick with first names. I like this – being undercover. It’s sort of like this is our trial run.”

“For what?” the Doctor asked, looping her arm through his, “Being investigative partners?”

“No, for being actually married.”

The Doctor tripped over his own ankle, dragging (Y/N) down a bit.

“Woah, there,” she laughed, winking at the other guests, “My husbands a bit jet lagged. Quite the flight over here.”

They neared the table with the remaining seats – facing the two men. They looked comical at the couples antics.

The Doctor pulled a chair out for (Y/N), and she sat in it laughing, “Do you mind if we join you?”

“Not at all,” one of the men said, “You two look like a riot.”

“I promise to keep her in line,” the Doctor said, though his confident smile fell, “Unless she’s made up her mind about something – then I have no say at all. I’m just along for the ride at that point.”

(Y/N) gave him an admiring smile, reaching for his hand. “My name is (Y/N). You can call him the Doctor. He refuses to be called by anything else.”

“I like that name,” said the other man, leaning forward, “I’m a kind of doctor myself.”

“Fantastic,” said the Doctor, “Practicing what in particular?”

The man reached out a hand to shake, “Pediatrics. The name’s William.” He had dark hair and light eyes. His jaw was strong and angular, dimples clearly visible in his smile – all in all a rather handsome face.

The Doctor was oblivious to that, of course, as he shook his hand, “Hello, Dr. Will. You can tell he’s a medical man by the handshake. Good, strong handshake.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “You’ll have to excuse my husband. He says strange things – chronically.”

Will laughed, resting back in his chair and smacking the shoulder of the man next to him. “This is my kid brother, Thomas. He can be on the quiet side, but he sure knows how to host a dinner party.”

The brother did appear embarrassed by the introduction. He was shy with his glances, his face much more boyish than his angular brother. It suited his sandier hair and light brown eyes.

“It’s all about the attire,” Tom said quietly, “You must look the part to play a proper host.” He reached up and straightened a bowtie at his collar.

The Doctor snapped his fingers, pointing at Tom, “Brilliant – absolutely brilliant. We are going to get along splendidly; I can already tell.”

“What do you do for a living, Tom?” (Y/N) asked pleasantly. She was warming up to him instantly, wanting him to be comfortable in conversation. They would have to be friendly if they were to stay the whole weekend.

The man crossed his legs, hiding his hands between them, “Ah, well – I’m a schoolteacher.”

“He’s being modest,” Will said, reaching for his glass of what looked to be something fruity. “He’s a history professor.”

“A professor!” the Doctor exclaimed, “And of history, no less. Do you teach at a university?”

“I teach around,” Tom said, quietly. “I’m a scientist by nature. I travel the galaxies to teach lectures, but to also conduct research.”

William smacked his lips at his drink, “Fond of space exploration, this one.”

“Not you?” asked the Doctor.

“I’ve found my fancy on a planet called Earth – ever heard of it?”

(Y/N) and the Doctor shared a look, laughing immediately. She nodded, “Yes, we’ve lived there for a number of years, actually. We’re very fond of the planet.”

“How about that,” Will chuckled, “Well, that’s where I practice my pediatrics. I bounce between countries, but with some help from my brother, we’ve researched incredibly innovative studies. We’ve just about found a cure to the common cold.”

“No,” the Doctor muttered, “Impossible. But that would make you…”

“An absolute genius?” Will said with some arrogance, “Why yes, it does.”

Tom cleared his throat, “Sometimes I believe he enjoys being the face more than the doctor.”

“Don’t be like that,” Will said, clearing the air with his smile. “You know that’s not true.”

The Doctor folded his arms, “Because of the children.” His smile was fond, admiring, “You’re a healer of children. No sane man could hold an ounce of arrogance when looking upon a sick child.”

Will looked towards the table as if he’d been discovered. It made Tom smile brighter.

“Your deductions are spot on,” Tom said.

(Y/N) put a finger to her chin, “Is it the stargazing festival that brings you here?”

“Yes,” Will said. Clearly he was the one that spoke for the two of them in public outings. “This is a family favorite location. We all visit here now and again – a great meeting place for reunions, actually.” He nudged his brother.

“What brings you two here?”

The Doctor got that stupid grin on his face, “It’s our honeymoon.” He bounced on his seat, intertwining his and (Y/N)’s fingers. He lifted their hands to show off the golden wedding ring.

The brothers held slight confusion in their gazes.

“Your honeymoon?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) played along, “Isn’t the ring beautiful?”

Thomas peered at it, “Yes, quite.” But the look on his face didn’t hold the same affirmation.

Will questioned, “How long have you two known each other?”

“Oh, it’s been years now,” (Y/N) laughed before the Doctor could exaggerate a false number. “I’d say nearly five.”

The brothers nodded, seemingly less confused by that answer.

“Should’ve seen the wedding,” the Doctor whistled. “Lasted for days. This one…” he jutted a thumb in (Y/N)’s direction, “Was very particular about how she wanted things done.”

“Oh, really?” (Y/N) scoffed, “I thought we knew who the drama queen was in this relationship.”

The Doctor shook his head, “She wanted everything chartreuse. Such an odd color, but what the bride wants, the bride gets. A fifty tiered cake, glow in the dark balloons, a live orchestra, a five course meal for the luncheon… the list goes on and on. Quite the bridezilla if you ask me…”

The brothers appeared amused by the talk. It seemed they could sense the Doctor wasn’t being overly truthful – probably by the furious look on (Y/N)’s face.

She screwed her lips and stared at him, trying to think of a comeback to shut him up. “Yes, well – if I hadn’t felt as rushed to do the wedding maybe we could’ve done a thoughtful, quiet ceremony.”

“Oh, nonsense,” the Doctor said, “You just couldn’t stand not being married to me for another day.”

“No, I do believe it was the hormones.” She put a few fingers to her temple, suddenly flushed, “I was all over the place when we first found out.”

All three of the men turned to look at her with bewilderment.

She leaned forward and whispered, “We’re pregnant, you see. He’s been scared stiff ever since I told him.” She took a deep breath, touching the Doctor’s arm. “The baby wants something sweet. Do you want something from the refreshments, dear?”

The Doctor was staring at her gob smacked. The surprise comeback definitely shut him up. He swallowed hard and lightly shook his head.

(Y/N) got up from the table, pretending to be off balanced by her growing stomach, and walking with a wide gait towards the platters behind them.

The Doctor blinked a few times, watching her go – his imagination running wild.

The voice of Will cut through his thoughts, “Um… congratulations are in order? Though it looks like you’re just as surprised by that information as we are.”

Tom and Will did look increasingly more confused the longer they talked.

The Doctor shook his head, sighing out a smile, “All right, chaps. Here’s the deal. We’re not actually married yet. Not even engaged.” He held up his ring finger, “This is a wedding ring I stole from a prince decades ago. This is all a rouse.”

Will looked like he was hiding a loud laugh, “Might I ask why you’re making it all up?”

“Because I like free stuff. And newly weds are usually entitled to free things on their honeymoon. I wanted to see what free stuff we could get here. And…” he peered around his shoulder to see where (Y/N) was at, “I want a gauge on what she might like. I do plan on proposing quite soon.”

The clarity seemed to relieve the brothers.

“So you made up a game to pretend you’re married to see how she’d feel about being married?” Tom said jovially.

“And perhaps to see if we should make this place a honeymoon spot. I expect the honeymoon phase to last years at least.” The Doctor sat back, growing lost in thought, “I want her to enjoy the places we visit.”

“Surely you’ll keep some a surprise, though,” Tom asked, clearly invested.

The Doctor brightened, “Oh, yes. I’ve had a lot of time to think it through. I did say I wanted it to last years.” He smiled sweetly, “I just want her to have fun.”

“So, the pregnancy is a rouse too?” Will asked.

The Doctor dimmed, “Yes. Yes, that was simply to get back at me for calling her a bridezilla.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Tom said, “Your secret is safe with us.”

“We’ll keep it up for you, if you’d like,” Will winked.

The Doctor smiled at them, grateful, “I do believe she likes playing the part.”

~~~

They were residing in their shared bedroom, getting ready for the night. (Y/N) stood in front of a full length mirror, dressed in a nightgown. She kept looking at herself from the side, holding her stomach.

The Doctor was on the bed watching her with his mind delved in lost thought. His eyes trailed her frame, taking in the sight and locking it within his memory. The way she was holding her stomach as if she were harboring a secret treasure there.

“Maybe I should stuff my shirt to look more pregnant for tomorrow,” she said aloud, “Make it more convincing.”

She could see the Doctor’s reflection in the mirror. The way he was just silently looking. His eyes had that wide and innocent look about them.

She took off the fake wedding ring for the night, admiring it for a few moments before placing it on the dresser.

Her steps were quiet as she joined him on the bed. Sitting side by side, she shared his silence. Within a few moments, he was reaching over to take her hand, holding it curiously within both of his.

He took his time to admire it, using his thumbs to trace her fingers and to make little circles around her knuckles.

(Y/N) stared at him doing this. Her voice came out in a whisper, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He took a calming breath, as if he were making a complicated decision. One that might upset her.

“Would you like to practice your telepathy?”

She was taken by slight surprise. Since discovering her Time Lord heritage, (Y/N) hadn’t explored much past Gallifreyan and general history. Being a Time Lord, she was born with the ability of telepathy. An ability she hadn’t explored much.

“Sure,” she whispered back.

The Doctor turned until they were facing each other cross legged on the bed. He seemed more apprehensive than she’d seen him in a long time. This version of him reminded her of when she first woke up.

“You’re going to read my mind,” he said, “All you have to do is close your eyes and reach…”

He took her wrists and guided her hands to his temples.

“Wait,” she said, “You want me to dive into your mind freely? Since when do you…”

“I trust you, (Y/N),” he said kindly, though his eyes were still innocent and fearful. “I am a master of concealing my mind; everything you’ll see is because I want you to.”

She nodded, placing her fingers in the correct spots.

“Concentrate,” he said, “Open your mind… and reach out.”

(Y/N) did. She felt a spark of connection between them, and a movie screen appeared in her mind. She gasped upon seeing a familiar sight.

It was herself holding hands with a beanpole of a man.

He had his brown suit and matching trench coat, complimenting the bright red shoes. He was guiding her down the halls of the TARDIS.

“It’s got to be one of these closets.”

(Y/N) giggled, emotion burning as it crept up her throat. This was the day they went looking for pajamas.

The Doctor skid to a door, yanking it open – it revealed a dark hole where the only sound was that of crickets. He pulled it closed immediately, “Definitely not that one.”

She laughed at him, a look of wonder still on her face.

This was the early days, (Y/N) thought.

The Doctor pulled on another door and found it stuck, “Right… must be this one.” He relied on his sonic screwdriver – smaller and blue-tipped – and managed to unstick the handle. After a heavy hit with his shoulder, “Ow…” the door flung open. A mountain of useless and forgotten items poured out, burying them.

Shoes, blankets, basketballs, tires, swordfish, ribbons, rubber ducks, amongst other things… covered them up.

(Y/N) bit back another giggle at the memory.

The slender hand of the Doctor shot through the pile of lost things. He pulled himself up, coughing, “(Y/N)!”

Seconds later a smaller hand appeared, “I’m here! I’m fine.”

The Doctor grimaced, “Rubbish closet. Never know what you’re going to find.” He grit his teeth, reaching down with his still buried hand, “But sometimes… if you’re lucky… you’ll come across exactly what you need.”

He yanked hard and from the depths came a bundle of flannel.

“Flannel pajamas?” she laughed.

He grinned his classic grin.

(Y/N) swallowed hard.

“Oh, yes!” he said in the way he used to, “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

The movie screen flashed forward to a different memory – a different thought. This time (Y/N) was sitting on the ramp of the TARDIS, arms scraped and folded limply around her. Her gaze was watery and unblinking.

Immediately (Y/N) knew what this was. They had their first rather traumatic adventure. Too many people were lost, too many of the good ones. It involved terrifying creatures and nearly losing her own life.

The Doctor came down to join her, fitting snuggly on the ramp. He had his suit jacket off and was placing it gently on her shoulders.

“How are you doing?”

She continued to stare off.

He responded with a quiet nod. “I’m sorry that happened. It shouldn’t have happened. Not to you.”

She still refused to answer.

It was peculiar seeing the memory from an outside perspective. (Y/N) was now able to look at the Doctor’s expression.

He was pained. Guilty. Trying too hard to hide his feelings – which of course meant you could see them very plainly.

(Y/N) had forgotten all the little freckles across his nose. Had forgotten the pout of his lips.

She had forgotten how dark his eyes could be. The deepest brown – so deep you almost felt like you were falling into the vastness of them.

Instantly she found she wanted to see his green eyes. They were so much lighter. Light like the sun reflecting off lake water. She could skip rocks on that shore all day long.

Her throat ached, her nose burned. She knew tears were probably close to falling.

She turned around in her mind’s eye. And in the distance was a dancefloor. People in fancy dress and lights flaring like it was a rave.

Right in the middle was a girl dancing to her hearts content. Her hair was flying as she moved like no one was watching. Her smile was bright and wide – beautiful. (Y/N) found herself jealous that the Doctor was highlighting such a woman. (Y/N) found she wanted to be like her. Carefree and stunning.

She had her dress bunched in one hand to keep herself from tripping. Her other hand waved around as she twirled. Her laugh was genuine and contagious. And trailing down to her feet, (Y/N) realized she was barefoot.

“She’s beautiful,” (Y/N) whispered.

The voice of the Doctor was directly in front of her when he replied with, “She’s you.”

Immediately (Y/N) recognized the outfit as her bridesmaid dress. The dancefloor was Amy and Rory’s wedding. And the reason she was barefoot was because her heel had broken.

It was bewildering – she looked so beautiful. Had she always looked so beautiful?

It struck her like a bolt of lightning.

This was how the Doctor saw her.

Carefree and stunning. Genuine and contagious.

“You’re such a sap,” she laughed, and her voice was full of tears. She longed to reach out and tell the girl – tell herself – how beautiful she was. How deserving she was. How much her life would turn out to be.

But she was being swept off to memories she had never seen before. But these couldn’t have been memories. They were thoughts.

The daydreaming thoughts of the Doctor. The things he explored when he was lost in thought.

She saw flashes of an entire life. A life with her and the Doctor.

Surprisingly, they were all mundane things.

Washing dishes and spilling soapy water on each other. Wrapping Christmas presents and trying to sneak a peek at each other’s contents. Settling in for bed and him kissing her goodnight. A walk in the park and feeding the ducks. Unpacking cardboard boxes. Cuddling on the couch. Roasting smores over a fire. Jumping in rain puddles. Blowing out birthday candles.

A pregnant (Y/N).

She was cradling her stomach, the Doctor painting the walls of a nursery. A mobile of stars and planets twirled above a cot.

Holding a newborn, the Doctor hugging them protectively.

(Y/N) finally opened her eyes, feeling dried tears on her cheeks. She quickly removed her fingers from his head. She found the Doctor already looking at her, quite like he had been watching her reaction that entire time.

“You think about all those things – all those times I catch you lost in thought.”

He smiled, “I once told you that I was capable of being domestic.” He cupped her face, “That I do think about those things too.”

She choked out a laugh, “You really are such a sap. Have I ever told you that?”

He matched her laugh, bowing his head to kiss her.

~~~

Amy and Rory were whistling and meandering the console room, waiting for (Y/N) to show. It was all incredibly suspicious. And (Y/N) told them so the moment she walked down the stairs.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Amy said, very unlike herself.

Rory cleared his throat, holding out a note, “We found this. It was uh… it was on the floor. But it has your name on it… so we thought… it was for you.”

The sigh that came from Amy spoke of her annoyance, “Yeah, the Doctor told us to give it to you.”

(Y/N) snorted, taking the piece of paper and reading aloud, “You never know what you’re going to find. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll come across exactly what you need.” She looked up, puzzled.

Rory bounced on his toes and Amy bit her lip.

“What does this mean?”

“You tell us,” Amy said, excitement building. “It’s a clue for you.”

(Y/N) read the note again, “You never know what you’re going to find?” She had heard that wording before. Was this the reason the Doctor showed her that particular memory? “The rubbish closet,” she laughed.

Upon finding the old rubbish closet, she found another piece of paper with the Doctor’s twirly handwriting. It was another clue. She was being led on a scavenger hunt. More like a goose chase with a place like the TARDIS.

“Careful you don’t get your book wet.”

She took off towards the library. There on a pool chair was another note.

“She heard you. Enough space for two now.”

She ran for the full sized kitchen, remembering how panicked she was after he told her that. Another clue was stuck to a carton of custard.

And she went around like that for over a dozen clues. Finally she reached an old room she used to visit when the Doctor tutored her on all things Gallifreyan. The artifact room.

Glass cases on pedestals held objects of great value. Some ancient, some dangerous, some heirlooms. (Y/N) walked through them, peering to see if the next clue was in one of the displays.

She was rather invested in the game now. She was curious to see the purpose behind it. Although judging by the actions of Amy and Rory… she had a pretty good guess.

Butterflies were erupting in her stomach, attempting to flutter up past her frantic hearts.

She looked into another display to find a bunch of wilting flowers. But they weren’t just any flowers.

It was Amy’s wedding bouquet.

And taped to the outside was another note, reading, “You know what they say about the person who catches the bouquet.”

She could have sworn her breathing stopped.

“(Y/N)?”

She closed her eyes and grinned so wide she knew her cheeks would hurt soon. She slowly turned around to face the nervous voice calling her name.

There stood the Doctor, bowlegged and strapping in his tweed. He wore a new bowtie in her favorite color. And held in his hand was a small velvet box. A deep tardis blue box. A ring box.

She took a shuddering breath, tears immediately welling her eyes.

“Hello,” he whispered, full of anxiety. But her earsplitting grin was making him feel better, “(Y/N)…” He blinked.

All he did was blink.

And she was gone.

Just vanished.

Vanished into thin air.

“(Y/N)?” he whirled around, hearts dropping to his feet. “(Y/N)!”

She was simply gone.

Vanished.

~~~

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[quietlyimplode]

Hi there! I have a prompt or more a rough idea: Nat being kind and caring to everyone else but not herself, e.g. making sure someone's favourite snack is available but choosing one for herself she doesn't actually like. Feel free to go anywhere with it or not if you don't want to. You're amazing, have a great day!

Oh Anon, this is a lovely prompt and fit with a quote I’ve been wanting to do for such a long time - thank you for the prompt, the opportunity to write this one, and for your kind words <3.

If you know the Doctor Who quote “All that pain, and misery and loneliness and it just made it kind” I love this quote for Natasha, and have been wanting to write it. I wish I had time to make this longer but alas time got the better of me. (5+1 fic, 1.5k, gif not mine, bwf2022)

How to be Kind

1/ Tony

“Thanks,” Tony grins, as she hands him the ratchet. Swinging her legs, she stifles a yawn and points out that the components don’t align.

He nods, fixing it and then pulling the metal tight.

The clock reads 3am, and she promised she’d help.

She’s learning, how to be kind.

Natasha knows that following through on what you say you will is one of those steps. So when he’d asked, she’d of course said yes.

Even if she’d only had two hours sleep last night.

It’s nice, spending time with him, even if concentrating is hard, and means she digs her nails into her palm to refocus herself when she finds herself drifting.

“Nat?” He asks, popping his head out of the work space.

She smiles and nods, and tries to think about what he just asked but she comes up blank.

“Sorry?”

“You’re tired?”

She shrugs, “I’ll be fine,” she smiles, counting the hours in her head til she needs to leave for Bali.

Sleeping on the plane with Rumlow and Clint will have to do, even if it’s something she hates.

“Do you want to try it out?”

Natasha sips the water on her right then stretches, she wants to go to bed, but this feels more important.

“Of course,” she smiles.

His sheer delight back is worth it.

She’s learning to be kind.

2/ Steve

The first roundhouse she hits him with knocks him back, following up she feints and punches at his face.

Steve avoids it, the first time he does so, and picks her up and throws her to the ground. She lands heavily, winded.

“Oh shit!” He exclaims, “Sorry Nat, I just reacted.”

She manages a laugh. It comes out more as a huff but she pulls it off.

“It was good, Steve, but you shouldn’t have been hit with the first.”

She takes a breath with her back away from him, touching her rib gently, knowing there’s some bruising there.

“Again,” she commands.

He can’t keep falling for stupid mistakes, someone will find out; he’s at risk.

Worry makes her stand straight as she readies her stance and faces off against him.

He dodges the first kick, the next punch but not the back hand that smacks him across the face.

“Shit!”

Natasha cringes, expecting a hit back.

“Sorry,” she apologises quickly.

To her surprise he nods and apologise back.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have been so lax about training.”

He rubs his face ruefully.

“Will you help me train?”

Natasha thinks of the blooming bruises on her ribs and arms as she adjusts her sleeves down.

If he knew the cost to her body, he’d never ask.

And she’s never going to tell him.

She needs to keep him safe, so that he can keep the others safe.

“Of course, Steve,” she promises.

.

3/ Bruce

She hears the Hulk roar over the cacophony of chaos reigning in the city.

She’s the only on that can calm him down, to reassure Bruce and hope against hope that he doesn’t destroy the neighboring town.

She can feel her breath catch as she knows it has to be her, that of it was Tony then anyone on the ground would be at risk to not have his cover.

She’s expendable.

Running, she cuts off the Hulk off at the lake.

It would be comical if she wasn’t so scared. He’s throwing a bike and then startles as it lands and the bell on it rings.

“Hey Green,” she shouts, hoping he turns to her.

It works and it takes all of Natasha’s courage to stand her ground.

For Bruce, she thinks, this is for Bruce.

He stamps at her, once; twice and she waves tentatively.

“It’s time to go home,” she squints at him, her voice shaking a little.

She can’t breathe.

All the weapons on her body are useless, even her body is useless.

All she has is her words.

“We’ve won,” she smiles, “you did it.”

Natasha has no idea if the Hulk understands, or even will respond to flattery.

She’s working at a disadvantage and knows ultimately she needs more intel to help Bruce with this.

“Can you come with me?”

There’s a noticeable shift and she knows what’s coming next.

Using the reflection of the lake, she turns her body as he de-transitions to Bruce.

Her body feels hot, panicked, but she maintains her composure.

Her childhood has taught her to remain calm. She bites the inside of her mouth til the metallic taste of blood gives her something else to think about.

“Nat?”

Bruce is down on one knee and she’s never been so thankful to hear his voice.

“Hey.”

She schools her face to one of neutrality and ignores her body screaming at her to run and hide.

The compact suitcase containing clothes is kicked over to him and he thanks her from afar.

“How bad?” he cringes as she turns to face him.

She chooses kindness these days, even if all she wants to do scream and run away in fear.

“Better,” she placates.

.

Later, when she’s alone, she evaluates herself.

Better, she thinks, she did better too.

Even if she’s still awake at 2am and can’t stop shaking.

Next time, she’ll do better.

4/ Thor

“My brother,” Thor starts, “was a menace as a child, he’d throw snakes at me. You know the ones with three heads that have the piecing tail?”

She’d found him sitting alone, drinking Asguardian alcohol that made the room smell like rose water.

He wasn’t okay, as sad eyes looked at her hopefully for someone to talk to.

No one else wanted to hear about Loki, and he knew it.

His brother was a source of pain for so many of the others, for obvious reasons, but this was something she could share.

Natasha nudges him, “we don’t have three headed snakes,” she reminds him.

“What else did you do together?”

The tiny smile on his face is worth the question, as she remembers running with Yelena, practicing gymnastics.

“We liked to fight,” Thor reminisces, launching into a story of taking on some aliens.

Natasha leans back, letting his words wash over her. Talking about family is always painful.

Always hurts.

It reminds her of all her losses.

But as Thor talks, she’s reminded that not all familial memories are bad, that they can be met with an affection too.

“You can go, if you want to,” Thor tells her, taking a swig, and leaning back with her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your evening.”

He’s right of course, this isn’t how she wants to spend her evening, but she can’t leave him in this stupor either.

“Tell me more,” she decides, at the expense of herself, “tell me about your brother.”

.

5/ Clint

“You fucking idiot,” Natasha swears, pulling his unconscious body around the corner.

“Fuck,” she swears again, as she sets up the comms and sends a distress signal out.

She heaves his body into the office building, and secures them in, breathing heavily.

It’s only then does she feel blood running down her arm and sweat running down her back.

She ignores the pain as she checks his vitals.

She hopes just knocked out.

“Clint?”

Trying to rouse him, the blood reaches her fingers. She doesn’t even remember how she got hurt, only the distress at seeing him get hit and drop.

The explosion that followed had been enough to make the world light up and the heat permeate into the cold streets.

The renegades had dispersed, some dead, some injured, and she’d completed the mission of recovering the anthrax vials, now securely with her.

‘ETA 1 hour’ the text reads from the exfil team.

She sighs in relief, adrenaline fading.

“Clint?” She tries again, rubbing his chest as finally he starts to come to.

Letting out a small sigh, she bumps her head into his, wondering at the pain that radiates as she does so.

“You’re okay,” she assures as he holds his hand to his head and groans.

“We got it?” He asks after a minute.

“Yeah, we got it, don’t worry,” she sighs.

He pats her thigh.

“Why would I worry? You have my back.”

It’s said flippantly and post concussion, but his faith in her never ceases to amaze her.

“Always, Clint,” she tells him seriously.

He looks up at her and frowns.

“Nat, your head…”

She’s confused at his concern.

The world tips.

“Oh,” she says out loud.

At least he’s safe, she thinks before she blacks out.

.

6/ The Team +1

Their kindness is not lost on her.

Tony reconfigures her widow bites so they no longer burn her.

Steve draws her pictures of flowers and birds.

Bruce teaches her about medicine, about patching herself up and when and how to seek help so that she feels safe.

Thor let’s her talk about Yelena and the girls in the Red Room without judgement or comment.

Clint loves her unconditionally.

One day.

One day she’ll learn to be unconditionally kind like they are.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Accidents Happen Part 2–Joe Keery

Part 1

Reader's POV

I woke up, my head pounding. The lights were bright and there was this annoying beeping sound. I turned my head to see my manager half-asleep in the chair next to my bed.

"Jeff," I mumbled. He bolted awake and turned toward me.

"Y/N," he said, relief coming through. He scooted closer to me, unsure of what to do. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I whispered. "And my head won't stop spinning."

"I'm gonna go get your doctor," he said softly. "Maybe he can get you something for your head."

He hesitated before leaving my hospital room. The next few hours were filled with tests and questions. Eventually, the pain medication kicked in and I could barely keep my eyes open.

"We should let her get some sleep," the doctor said as he checked my pulse.

The next few days went like that: I woke up to doctors, continually poking and prodding at me. In between each interrogation, I had visitors. Ryan, Shawn, Joe, the stunt coordinator, make-up team, hair team, and anyone else I've worked with on set came by. The people who came the most were Ryan, Shawn, and Joe.

I was in the hospital for three days before I was finally released. I was cleared to go home but I wasn't cleared to go back to work. I spent the rest of the week in my apartment with Jeff constantly visiting me. The first night I was home, he refused to leave. Even though I told him I would be fine, he slept on the couch.

I woke up the next morning to Jeff, Joe, Ryan, and Shawn in my kitchen. They stayed that whole day. That one day stretched to the rest of the week. I soon caught on to the fact that they were taking shifts. They each took turns spending the day with me.

On day two when I almost passed out walking from my bedroom to the bathroom, they started insisting on having someone by my side 24/7. They were worried that I'd get annoyed but I thought it was sweet that they were so protective of me. The night before I was able to go back to work, Joe brought over dinner.

"I have to ask," he sighed, in the middle of dinner, "are you sure you're ready to come back to work?"

"Joe," I sighed. "We've gone over this. I've been cleared by the hospital doctor, the set doctor, and even the stunt coordinators. I'm fine."

"I know you say that but. . ."

"Hey," I cut him off. "I'll be fine."

"Just," he stuttered, "promise me that if you start to get. . . anything, you'll let us know so we can take a break."

"I will."

                                * * * * *

When the video got to the right spot and Joe got to his mark, I said my next line.

"Wow," I sighed, "those two were young and dumb."

"Geez," Joe gasped. "So we're breaking and entering now?"

"How does it feel working for a galactic black hole of frozen shit?"

"You have to leave. I can't talk to you."

"Shame will have that effect."

"No, Millie," Joe sighed. "I mean I can't talk to you. I can't even see you. I'm literally focusing on background objects because looking at your lips move violates my NDA and it could get me fired."

"Aw," I fake pouted, "fired by Antwan, the guy who stole our work?"

"No, he bought it and then he shelved it. Alright? You're living in the past. You are stuck. You gotta move on."

"How can I move on? How can you? Antwon swiped our AI engine to use in his dumb shooter."

"Did he, Millie? Because honestly, I'm not so sure. Our game was complex and beautiful and interesting, and Free City, it may be popular, but it's so idiotic, it makes me want to cry."

"Then stop defending him and help me beat his ass."

"Millie, I'm. . ."

"Come on, Keys," I recited. I was about to say my next line but the room started to spin. I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to remember the words.

"He stole. . ." Suddenly, my knees gave out.

"Y/N!" Joe gasped as he instantly caught me.

"I'm sorry," I said shakily.

"It's okay," he said gently. He tightened his arms around me and led me over to a nearby couch.

He sat us down, his arms still wrapped around me. People ran over to us and started asking me questions, but I couldn't focus.

"The room won't stop spinning," I said weakly under my breath.

"She needs to lie down," Joe spoke up.

"He's right," Mandy our set medic said gently. "Joe, why don't you help me take her to her trailer? I'll look her over there."

"But we should. . ."

"He's right," Mandy interrupted the stunt coordinator. "She needs to rest."

"Come on, Y/N," Joe said gently.

He stood us up, not letting me go. My knees gave out, but Joe tightened his arms around me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again as I leaned against his chest.

"It's alright," he whispered. "I got you."

                                * * * * *

I stayed tucked into Joe's chest as he led me through set and to my trailer. He opened the door and led me inside. He gently helped me sit on the couch. He knelt down in front of me and reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"You okay?" He whispered.

"I don't know," I stuttered. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that," Joe chuckled. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"I. . . I think so. . . But I don't really remember."

"How about this? I'm gonna grab an assistant and have them get us some lunch. Okay?"

"Joe. . ."

"Y/N," he cut me off. "You need to eat something."

By the look in his eyes, I could tell that he wasn't going to let this go. I bit my lip and nodded. He sent me a smile, slightly hesitating before he got up and poked his head out of my trailer. I heard him catch someone's attention and got them to grab us lunch.

When he came back, I played with my hands. Joe sat next to me and reached over, softly placing his hand over mine.

"How are you feeling?" He whispered.

"A little embarrassed."

"Why?"

"Because," I hesitated. I sighed before opening up to him. "Because how can I be an actress who shuts down whenever a stunt goes wrong?"

Joe scooted closer to me, tightening his hold on my hands. "Not every stunt goes wrong," he said gently. "And your's wasn't a simple stunt. You fell and. . . Just because you got a little scared and hesitant, doesn't mean you shut down."

"What if I can't do this?" I stuttered.

"Y/N," Joe whispered, "you can do this. There's nothing wrong with how you're reacting to the accident. Just because you're reacting at all doesn't mean you aren't cut out to be here."

"But. . ."

"Accidents happen, Y/N. Sometimes you can't avoid them."

"I don't remember."

"What?" He stuttered.

"I don't remember what happened," I finally admitted to someone.

"Did you tell your doctor?"

"No," I whispered, looking down at my hand still intertwined with Joe's.

"Y/N," Joe said under his breath. "You need to. . . You have to tell someone. The doctors. . ."

"Will tell me that it's going to take time," I interrupted him. "Besides, I remember everything leading up to the accident. I just don't remember what happened."

"What all do you remember before?" Joe asked, sounding slightly weird.

"I remember getting to work," I started to list off. "I remember getting hair and make-up done. I remember. . . Wait, did we talk?"

"We did," he said, clearing his throat.

"I don't remember what we talked about," I said slowly.

"We talked about the stunt," Joe explained for me. "You were nervous and I tried to convince you to talk to Shawn and maybe put off the stunt."

"I clearly didn't," I scoffed.

"No," Joe chuckled awkwardly. "You thought you'd be fine. Was there anything else that you remember?"

"No," I shrugged. "Should I remember something else?"

"No," Joe said, slightly clearing his throat. "There was nothing else."

Part 3

[nikoruistyping]

Ik Morgan’s technically more of a unisex name so it works for both a boy and a girl (like in the comics where iirc he’s Tony’s cousin and in the MCU, she’s Tony’s daughter) but imagine Tony and the reader bantering about the baby’s name and it all started when he referred to the baby as Anthony Stark Jr. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Yes, ik that’s a RDJ reference but I love the headcanon of Tony having Anthony Stark Jr. as a possible child name bc of some Wattpad preference book I’ve read before and don’t mind me requesting again XD

Stark Jr. || Tony Stark

Dad!Tony Stark x Pregnant!Wife!Fem!reader

Requested by: @smokeywhalee​

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to find Tony none other than tinkering away in the workshop and you try to bring him back to bed except that once he calls the baby Anthony Stark Jr. that's when the banter starts...

TW: Fluff, Mention of Pregnancy/Talking about Babies, Overprotectiveness, Playful Banter, Small Hint/Mention of Insomnia (symptom resulting from PTSD but no mention of actual PTSD)

Word Count: 1,629

A/N: I loved writing this! Such a good idea and them being just tooth rottenly fluffy and sweet to each other talking about baby things is just cute af it warmed my heart so thank you for the request and hope you enjoy it!

It was almost 3 am in the morning and you had been woken up by the insane amount of kicking your child was doing to your insides while you slept. Being six months pregnant was already starting to (literally) kick in and you sure as hell felt it both in your uterus and also by the fact that you had to go to the bathroom at least ten times a day. You sat up slowly, your hand instantly going to your belly to feel the kicking of the baby. It was only getting harder and harder to sleep in the bed and actually be comfortable since the baby was not making this pregnancy very easy on you.

"Hey, why are you kicking up a storm at 3 am? Mommy really really needs some sleep right now." You were talking to yourself rubbing your bump and speaking downwards to the baby.

You found the strength to get out of bed and grabbed your robe looking over to Tony's side of the bed and clearly he was nowhere to be found. Knowing your husband you knew exactly where he was and well since the baby wasn't letting you have any peace and quiet might as well join Tony and his night owl tendencies. The farther along you got in the pregnancy the more you found Tony tinkering away in the workshop, hard at work, trying to keep on improving his suits and gadgets in order to make sure the both of you were protected from all the harms the world had to offer. Sometimes he was a little too overprotective and you had to sometimes pull his head out of it all to just calm him down. You were his anchor and now both you and the baby would be both his anchors in trying to keep him grounded and sane.

You made sure to tie the knot on your robe and putting on your slippers you slowly made your way down the stairs towards his workshop. You could already hear the clanking of metal, sparks flying from the soldering machine, and AC/DC was blasting from the record player. You opened the glass door walking in and rubbing your eyes at how bright the lights in the workshop were. You shuffled your way over to where Tony was, sitting at a lab table, so in the zone that he barely even heard you walk in.

"Honey, you're tinkering again aren't you?" You ask clearing your throat loud enough for him to hear you were right next to him and he suddenly froze in his tracks stopping what he was doing and immediately turning his attention to you.

"Guilty as charged. What are you doing down here and at this hour? You should be resting like the doctor said-" He was cut off by your hands coming up to cup his face, your fingers stroking at his scruffy beard.

"I should be asking you that." You raised your eyebrow at him.

"I just had an idea and I needed to come down to the workshop and try it out before I lost it." He admits although you could see through him like a sheet of paper, he was a terrible liar.

"Tony, you said that last time I caught you down here." You said taking a step closer to him as your hands guided his head to rest softly against your bump, his ear clearly pressed to your belly.

"Fine...I just can't sleep. I come down to the lab to do what I know. I tinker. I need to protect the one thing I can't live without and that's you and now this little guy right here," He said as he pulled his head away from your belly and pointed at it.

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something ever happened to you or Anthony Stark Jr. over here." His hand touched your bump feeling the baby kick when he said the name and the biggest smile came on his face.

"I know honey but you also need to think about yourself. We both are going to have long sleepless nights to come with the baby and I just don't want you getting so caught up in this," Your hand motioning to the whole lab and to what his current project was on the lab table.

"We both need to rest. Come on back to bed," Your finger tilted up his chin so that he could look up at you, his hand still touching your belly.

"Also don't think I didn't hear you call this baby Anthony Stark Jr., you already know how I feel about it." You said with a chuckle as you turned around and started to walk towards the door.

"What's so wrong with the name Anthony?! I like it."

"Of course, you like it Tony because it's your name! Besides remember I want the gender to be a surprise, which means we are picking gender-neutral names only." You said with a sigh knowing that you have already had this conversation with him once before and now you were repeating it yet again.

"Gender-neutral is so boring sweetheart. I don't get why we can't just pick a name that's already a good choice as it is." He said getting out of his seat and following you toward the door to help you back up the stairs to the bedroom.

"And what if it's a girl, hmm Tony?"

"Then we name her Antonia...?" His voice was unsure of the name or how it sounded, he clearly wasn't on board with that one but he was just being stubborn and trying to make a point.

"Really Tony? Antonia?! There is no way in hell I'm naming our daughter that." You said firmly trying to stand your ground as the both of you started to walk up the stairs and you could feel Tony holding your hand and having a hand placed on your back to make sure you didn't lose your balance or fall on the way up.

"Fine then, what brilliant names do you have in mind?" He asked with an annoyed huff of air leaving his lips.

"I like the name Morgan and at least it's gender-neutral. I'm still doing my research for names but I know I want something meaningful for our child." You explained, a little out of breath as the both of you finally reached the bedroom in one piece. Tony still kept close to you, helping you walk all the way to the bed as you sat down on the edge facing him.

"Morgan? Absolutely not. That's the name of my cousin, are you serious?! I'm not naming my child after my cousin who I barely even speak with." His head nodded 'no' while he kneeled in front of you, his hands holding yours while he was by your side.

"Tony can we just put a pin in it and revisit this conversation later? I'm exhausted and your child is the one who woke me up in the first place." You sigh having enough of all the banter between you both over the name. You knew that when the time was right and you saw the face of your baby you would know what name to give him or her.

"Oh so now all of a sudden it's only my child? It takes two to tango sweetheart," He exclaimed still with a slight annoyance in his voice but he still couldn't help but smile at how glowing and beautiful you looked even while almost being heavily pregnant.

"Well, this baby is definitely tangoing at the wrong time of day right now." You said with a laugh as your hands went down to cup his face once more making sure his eyes were looking into yours.

"I know you're worried about us honey but everything is going to be fine and we all are going to be fine. I know you're going to be an amazing dad and this child is going to be lucky to have you in their life." You could feel the baby kick in response to what you said which cracked a smile in between the both of you.

"You're right...have I ever told you how much I love you?" He questioned as his head went in again to lean softly up against your belly, feeling the small kicks against his head.

"Constantly." You said with a smile as your hand raked through his hair, knowing that the feeling soothed him.

"Good, well I'm going to remind you again. I love you," He said kissing your bump and it made you almost want to cry at how sweet and gentle he always was with you and the baby.

"and I love you too...Stark Jr..." He whispered so that you wouldn't hear.

"Tony, I heard that." Your voice was stern once again but you were too tired to try and entertain the idea again so you just let it slide without another comment.

"Fine, fine I'm gonna drop it...for now that is." He said pulling away from your belly and standing back up while you yawned in response your eyes getting heavy again.

"For now?" You questioned finding a way to roll yourself back into your spot on the bed.

"Yeah, for now." He confirmed while walking into the closet to find his PJs.

"We will see about that." You mumbled into the pillow as you tried to once again get comfortable and hopefully by some miracle you would fall asleep again and also hoping Tony would drop the name thing for good, especially since you already knew you were the one going to make the final decision anyway, you just would let him think he also had a say.

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[sp00kysk3lly]

Things people do that I HATE with every fibre of my being!

Date: 27th January

Time: 18:45 PM

Feeling: Pretty much dead because I’m exhausted from not sleeping so have some fun reading about what I hate.

People who f**king leave the house when they stink! I don’t give a flying f**k if you’re too old and you’re in a care home. F**king have a wash before you leave the house or fucking spray something because you make me physically sick and I feel the need to kick you!

Kids who think they’re f**king special for doing something that everyone else can obviously do! You know those videos of kids calling 911 or 999 and “saving their parent or guardians life”, well anyone can do that. I can do that, does that mean I’m going to be on the news? No because they only give a shit if you’re young and “cute” (which none of them actually are!)

People who f**king stare at me! Why the f**k you staring at me? I know I look so much f**king better than you, but don’t look at what you can’t f**king afford. I’m probably worth more than your organs, so stop f**king looking at me, and do something else with your eyeballs!

People who keep talking when they either know I can’t hear them properly, or know that I don’t give a shit. Excuse me, just shut the f**k up, I’m trying read my book! I couldn’t care less what you have to say!

Hospitals cancelling my appointments without a reason. Why is it that when we cancel appointments we have to give a reason, but when they cancel our appointments, they don’t give us any reason? Nah, not fair in the slightest! Next time I’ll just cancel the appointment and I won’t tell you why so f**k off.

People who say one thing, but do another. For example, I’ve been waiting for a walking stick to be delivered to me today. I was told it would be today, they rung up and told us. But it’s gone 5 f**king PM and still nothing. Why say you’ll turn up when you don’t? Dickheads, the lot of them. Not the first issue I’ve had with this company! Trust the NHS to use shitty companies.

People who talk loudly when they don’t need too! I don’t know why they need to be so f**King loud, there’s just no need for it. Like, I’m right in front of you! You don’t need to shout in my face. I have so many family members like this and it pisses me off so much. Another one that just needs to shut the f**k up!

People who copy everything I do. It just annoys the hell out of me. What don’t you get about Being. Your. Own. Person!!!! I’m the only one around where I live that dyes my hair bright bright colours, reds, greens, blues. All of them. Now suddenly two people that live near me have got bright colours in their hair??? Just be your own person, don’t copy my looks. I don’t even do it to be “stylish” I do it because instead of people looking at me, seeing my disability, they see my bright hair instead and it takes the focus off my disability!!!!

There’s certain people that just piss me off just from being them. I’ll bullet point them because there’s too many.

Family

Teachers

Doctors

Nurses

Police officers

Old people

Copycats

Children

Girly girls

Bullies

Child abusers

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Flu Season

  Requested: 911 imagine eddie diaz x Buckley reader where I've not been really ill for the past week and Eddie and buck are worried about me and send maddie over to check on me and she takes me to the hospital cause I collapse and turns out I'm pregnant and the 118 all turn up to see me and I tell them and Christopher is really happy about it thanks xx @beth-winchester21​

Flu season was here and it hit your school hard this year. 

Working as a teacher you were always exposed to germs and always knew this time of year is when the flu came and kicked everyone’s ass. 

This year it felt like you were getting it the hardest you ever got it. It was nothing you ever felt like before.

 You were so sick that you could barely get out of bed. Throwing up and feeling nauseous.

Eddie was worried about you, he hated to see you sick. Not being able to help or make you feel better killed him. 

He wasn’t the only one who was worried about you though. Buck and Maddie were both overprotective. You could of had a sniffle and they threw fits. 

So you didn’t think you were that sick. I mean everyone was just making a big deal out of nothing. 

You thought it was just a rough case of the flu. All you thought you needed was some crackers and ginger ale. The best medicine for the flu. 

Currently you were laying in bed. In and out of sleep. But you were woken up by the chatter coming down from the hall. You listened to see if you could hear who it was. 

Eddie’s voice rang through the hallway first. 

“Look man I’m worried about her this is clearly something else than the flu and I’m worried about her.” you heard him say. 

“ I know me to but you how bullheaded she is.” Buck said back and you heard Maddie agreeing with them. 

You just laid back and rolled your eyes. You knew they cared about you but dang why did they have to be so dramatic about it. You weren’t dying you were just sick. 

You heard Buck and Eddie get up to leave. They had to leave for work which you were grateful for because you didn’t want to be hounded over. 

You decided to get up out of bed and see Maddie. Getting up you felt a little lightheaded. But you decided to just push past it. You reached the end of the hall barely. 

Maddie saw you and rushed over at you. Yelling that you shouldn’t have gotten up out of bed. 

Which at this point you couldn’t argue you regretted your decision. Because you just felt you whole body give out and everything went black. 

You don’t even remember ending up at the hospital. You woke up being blinded by a light and what sounded like a heart monitor going off. You could also feel someone holding your hand. 

You finally opened up your eyes and looked down and saw Maddie sitting there with you. 

“What Happened?” you asked 

“You fainted at the apartment i had to bring you here. They took some blood work and test were just waiting. It hasn’t been that long.” she told you. 

They had you hooked up fluids and they were making you feel better. The two of you sat in silence. 

Just waiting for the results you weren’t too worried about it you thought there’s nothing going to be there. 

After what seemed like a while a doctor came in the room and you immediately sat up. 

“We have the test results and well congrats are in order your pregnant.” the doctor said. 

“You did have the flu but it was made worse due to the pregnancy but we got you hooked up to some fluids and were gonna get you rehydrated and you could be released later.” the doctor said. 

He left the room and you just sat there in silence because you didn’t know what to say. Maddie was smiling and trying to laugh you were glad this was funny to her. You had no idea how Eddie would react would he even want more kids? 

Later that evening the whole 118 and Christopher showed up to see me. Maddie called them and they came over at shift. You didn’t want anyone to make a big deal about you. 

When they showed up Maddie excused herself and let Eddie come in to see you by himself. You knew you just had to rip off the band aid and just tell him. 

“Hey Y/N are you okay ? I mean what’s going on are you okay baby we all been so worried about you.” he said grabbing your hand. 

“Eddie Listen I’m fine but there is something I have to tell you I’m Pregnant. I just found out. That’s why I have been so sick I had the flu but the pregnancy made it worse, and listen I understand if this is not what you want but-” he cut you off by kissing you rather hard. 

He placed a soft hand on your stomach and you placed your hand on top of his. The kiss broke and Eddie looked down at you with soft eyes. 

“Of course this is what I want I’m so happy I love you Mi Amor. were having a baby that’s so awesome.” he said to you. 

You heart swelled at his sweet words. You were happy that you were going to have a baby with this sweet man. The anxiety seemed to just go away. 

The rest of the 118 came in and everyone hugged you with Buck squeezing you so hard like you were at death’s door. 

Eddie got everyone’s attention, Listen we have an announcement to make. 

“Y/N is pregnant ! were going to be parents again.” Eddie yelled. 

Chris ran over to you giving you a hug and the whole room cheered and hugged each other. He couldn’t stop smiling and laughing and kept telling everyone he was finally going to be a big brother. You knew he would make a great one. 

“We knew it though we were all placing bets since you got sick.” Chim yelled out. 

The room burst out in laughter and Chimney started collecting his money. 

“I’m so proud of you.” Maddie Whispered in your ear. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Buck whispered to you. Maddie punched him in the arm laughing. 

Looking around the room you were so happy to have this wonderful and supportive family. You couldn’t have possibly believed this was your life but you were so beyond grateful.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.