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roosterforme · 6 months

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The Younger Kind Part 56 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley finally gets word about a return date, he has no idea what he's about to walk into at home. You tried your best to take care of things by yourself, but your visit to the hospital shows you how much you need someone with you for physical help as well as emotional support.

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

Length: 4100 words

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

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

You managed to get in the car even though Natasha was protesting. "What's wrong?" she asked at least a dozen times as she tried to call an ambulance for you. But you just told her you could drive yourself to the hospital to be checked out. You thought you said the word pregnant to her at some point, but you weren't really sure. Nothing was making very much sense right now.

There was traffic on every road as dinnertime approached. Everyone else was going out for the night, perhaps for a family meal at a restaurant. You saw kids walking along the sidewalks with their parents, and you started crying. You didn't like leaving Noah to wake up from his nap with Natasha suddenly there instead of you. She would take care of him, of course, but it might confuse him. You didn't see what choice you had in the matter though, as your mind was flooding with worst case scenarios.

What was happening to the baby?

You sobbed as you ran through a yellow light to try to get there faster. What if it was already too late? You were educated enough to know that there were about a million different things that could be going on right now, and they ranged from innocuous to horrifying. Maybe you did something to cause some minor bleeding. Or maybe the baby was already gone.

"Please, no," you gasped as you parked at the hospital and walked quickly through the increasingly dreary weather to the emergency entrance. Your phone was vibrating in the pocket of your sweatpants as you headed right for the desk and blurted out, "I'm pregnant, and I'm bleeding."

The exhausted looking nurse looked up at you and said, "Please have a seat in the waiting area, and I'll come get you when I'm ready for you."

You blinked at her. "I'm bleeding," you repeated in a harsh whisper. "And I'm pregnant."

"Yes," she replied with a nod. "I'll be with you in just a minute."

You took a seat and cried, afraid to use the bathroom in the waiting area, terrified to see more blood when you wiped yourself. Anytime patients came to see Dr. Kelly, you made sure you took care of them right away, especially if they were bleeding or upset. You couldn't stand the tears that would well up in a child's eyes along with uncertainty and fear.

But then you got it. It only took you a minute to understand that if there truly was something wrong with the baby, then there was nothing they would be able to do at this point.

Your phone was ringing again, and it was Natasha. As the nurse came to retrieve you from your seat, you texted her and let her know you made it to the hospital and to focus her attention on Noah. You were shaking again as the nurse took your temperature and blood pressure, and you wanted to scream at her to do something more than check your vitals. You needed an ultrasound. You needed a doctor. You needed someone to focus on why you were bleeding.

She handed you off to another nurse, and at least he smiled sympathetically at you and said, "We'll get you checked out in no time." But you could barely walk, and you felt his hand wrap around your bicep to keep you upright as he guided you into one of the many rooms in the emergency medicine corridor. "I'll get a doctor right in here, okay?"

His voice was calm, emulating what you tried to do at your own job, and he left you a gown to change into. Once he was gone, you put it on, afraid to check your underwear as you settled onto the narrow bed. The room smelled sterile, and the fluorescent lights were making you nauseous, but he was true to his word. You started counting to yourself, trying to keep track of how much time had passed without panicking, and a few minutes later, a doctor appeared in the doorway.

She spoke your name, and when you nodded, she introduced herself. "You're pregnant?" she asked you evenly as she reached for some latex gloves. She reminded you a bit of Dr. Kelly, and you immediately felt a little bit calmer.

"Yes. About thirteen weeks along, and I just started bleeding like an hour ago." Your voice broke on your words, but you tried to keep it together. "I'm a pediatric nurse, so I'm not completely proficient in obstetrics, but can you give me an ultrasound and check? I need to know if the baby is okay."

"Lay back so I can see what's going on here." You did exactly as you were told as your heart pounded and panic rose within you. The baby was already so loved; you and Bradley were both looking forward to the due date. Sure, you'd been a little scared of the unknown, but the idea of miscarrying had you sick with worry.

If Bradley were here right now, you knew you'd feel so much safer, but if the baby was gone, your preference would be to deal with this yourself. The disappointment on his face would be too much to bear. You'd rather never look at him again then have to see how sad he was going to be when you told him. If you had to tell him.

You ran your thumb along the band of your engagement ring as the doctor gave you a quick examination. "Have you had vaginal intercourse in the last forty-eight hours?"

"N-No," you sputtered. "My fiancé is deployed. He's in Japan."

"Did you masturbate?"

You shook your head; you were so tired, you could barely clean up after dinner each day, let alone get yourself off. "No."

She pulled the gown down again and said, "It's most likely just your cervical tissue reacting to something, but let's get you taken back for an ultrasound to be sure."

"Thanks," you sobbed, letting your palm come to rest on your belly as you closed your eyes and tried to stay afloat in your own terrible thoughts. "I just want to know if I'm still pregnant."

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"Finally," Bradley muttered, running his fingers through his hair as he walked through the hangar with his helmet in his hand. Six weeks was a long time to be away from you right now. Too long, really. He had kind of fallen in love with flying Shadowhawk, but nothing compared to sharing a bed with you and reading bedtime stories to Noah. And he was itching to see the newest ultrasound photos.

He'd been confined to the Naval base at Yokosuka except for one day when the weather was too unsafe to let him fly. He took a short trip back into the city, chaperoned of course, but he was allowed to visit a bookstore. He ended up buying eight books for Noah and the baby, and he couldn't wait to show them to you. And he'd be able to do that soon, because he finally had a return date. If he did his math right, he'd be home in time to take Noah out to get candy on Halloween, as long as he wasn't delayed.

With just a few days left flying Shadowhawk, he really let the throttle tilt. He could hear Admiral Palmer warning him about his speed over the crystal clear comms, and he smiled before he responded. "Yes, sir. I'll ease off." But he didn't until he made a beautiful loop through the air. He was getting used to the ridiculous pressure on his body now, and when he got to San Diego and switched back to his Super Hornet, he was going to miss this feeling. He couldn't wait to try to describe it to you.

He knew what was coming. He was anticipating hours spent looking at his own flight data with the officers, but when the time came, he just felt antsy. The sixth-generation fighter had been moved back into the hangar for storage. He'd taken his last flight. His bags were packed, and he was ready to go home, but he had to pretend to be interested in what came next: at least fifty admirals sifting through data before anything would be determined. Bradley hoped these jets would eventually come to find a home with the US Navy, but it would be years from now if they did. He had done his part, and he wanted to be let loose again.

When he woke up on the day of his departure, he signed a final set of privacy forms before his phone was returned to him as he was ushered out to a car waiting to take him to the airport. He couldn't leave soon enough at this point. All he could picture was your face and Noah's, happy to see him home again. He could practically feel your body in his hands, and it was the only thing he wanted.

Once he settled in for the short ride, he turned his phone on to find that he only had a tiny bit of battery left. Without even checking to see what time it was at home, he called you. He'd let his phone die talking to you right now if need be, and then he could charge it later. But you didn't answer. That was okay.

"Princess, I'm coming home. I'm on my way to the airport in Tokyo right now, and it's a ten hour flight. I think I'll be landing after midnight, so don't worry about getting Noah out of bed to come pick me up. I'll get an Uber or a taxi. I can't wait to see you, Baby. I love you."

He ended the call, and as soon as he started to investigate all of his missed text messages, the phone died. He was dropped off at the airport with barely half an hour to spare before his flight was scheduled to leave, and that's when he realized he didn't even have his phone charger with him.

"Fuck," he muttered, rooting around in his bag but coming up with nothing. Maybe it got lost in his room in the barracks when he dumped his bag out? Maybe it was in his duffle which he checked at the airline desk. Regardless, he didn't have time to try to buy a new one, because his flight was already boarding by the time he found the gate. After questioning the flight attendants as to whether or not they had the type of charger he needed, he gave up hope, tossed his phone into his bag and tried to sleep for as much of the ten hour flight as he possibly could. He would be home with his family soon enough.

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You played the voicemail message from Bradley over and over again, but you could barely understand a word that he said. It sounded garbled and fuzzy, and it kept cutting out. He said something about being in Tokyo and something about Noah, and then he told you he loved you, but that's all you could figure out for sure.

"Can you understand what he's saying?" you asked softly, holding up the phone for Natasha to listen to it pretty much as soon as she walked through your front door in her uniform. "I've been trying to decipher this all day."

She took it from your hand and listened to it on speakerphone and then listened again with it pressed to her ear as she made a face. "Hang on," she muttered, playing it a third time.

She'd been staying at the house with you since your overnight visit to the emergency room. She had essentially been doing everything for you and Noah so you barely had to lift a finger after work each day. You wouldn't have been able to do it on your own, but every time you tried to thank her, she told you it was no big deal and that Bradley was her best friend. You were afraid you were eating into her time with Javy, but she just rolled her eyes and said, "Hoes before bros."

She listened to the message one more time before she said, "It kind of sounds like he's coming home? And he's going to arrive after midnight? And he's getting an Uber from the airport?"

Your heart beat faster. "Do you think he means tonight?"

Noah came running into the living room with a coloring sheet in each hand and Skittles bounding after him. "Aunt Natasha!"

"Hey squirt," she said, picking him up and flying him around the room. She turned back to you and said, "Hopefully it means he'll be back tonight. Let's just leave the porch light on after dinner in case." Then she hauled Noah off to the kitchen where she started cooking while you took a shower.

Dr. Kelly had immediately cut your hours back for which you were so thankful. She was very understanding when you talked to her. Tomorrow was Halloween, and it was Saturday. The plan was for Natasha to wear the costume you originally bought for Bradley, but if he arrived home tonight and was able to function tomorrow, maybe he'd want to go out to collect candy himself. You were just aching to see him at this point, and now your skin was tingling with the anticipation of him holding you.

After you ate, you tried to clean, but Natasha said, "I'll clean up after Noah's in bed." And then she sent you to the couch with a blanket while she and Noah took Skittles for a long walk down to the beach. You fell asleep there shortly after they left, and you weren't surprised that you ended up in your bed even before Noah was in his for the night.

You let Natasha take care of everything while you tried to text Bradley again. You'd been trying all day, but he hadn't responded to a single one of them. You checked to see which flights were currently on their way from Tokyo to San Diego, and three of them were arriving late tonight. Honestly, the garbled voicemail had you on edge all day long, making you more exhausted than usual. You fell asleep hoping that he was on one of the flights and that he would be home soon.

And then you woke up to a loud voice coming from the living room. You jolted in bed, throwing the covers off of you in alarm before you realized that the voice was familiar.

"Princess? Baby, it's me! It's Bradley. I didn't want to scare you."

"Bradley," you gasped, jumping out of bed and grabbing at your nightstand until you could get your footing. "Bradley!" you called out a little louder.

"It's me, Baby," he answered. "Is Nat here? Why is her SUV in the driveway?"

You nearly collided with his best friend in the dark hallway, and when you both made it out to the dimly lit living room, you saw him standing there. Tears filled your eyes as you raced for him, and he picked you up into his arms and cradled you against his big body while Skittles whimpered at his feet.

"Daddy," you whispered, aware that Natasha was standing right behind you. "I missed you so much."

He kissed along your neck and your cheek and all of the parts of your face that he could reach as he said, "I love you. I love you so much. I missed you and Noah and the baby." He ran his nose along the shell of your ear and said, "Hey, Nat. What are you doing here? And why are you holding my mom's antique lamp?"

You turned to glance at her over your shoulder where she was indeed standing with the lamp in her hand at her side in her ratty old shirt and lounge pants. "I was making sure you were really you and not an intruder."

He laughed. "You were going to beat the shit out of me with a lamp?"

"Absolutely," she said with a yawn. "Welcome home." Then she turned and went back to the extra bedroom leaving the two of you alone.

Bradley's lips were on yours immediately, and even though you knew you had so much to tell him, you let yourself enjoy the indulgence of his kisses. You whimpered against his mouth and brushed your fingers softly through his hair. "I'm assuming we need to talk," he murmured. "You wanna tell me why she's here?"

You nodded and whispered, "Let's go to the bedroom."

He left his bags on the floor and carried you there immediately, setting you on the unmade bed and dropping down next to you. The room was pretty dark, and you curled up against his body, getting as close to him as you could. You inhaled his scent and soaked up his warmth, finally feeling better than you had in over a month. All of the fear seemed to wash away as he said, "I'm sorry I only left you that one message, but my phone died, and I can't find my charger. Nobody on my flight had the right one either, because apparently my phone is as ancient as I am."

You laughed softly. "I like vintage things, remember?"

"I do recall that," he replied easily. "Is tonight the first night Nat slept here?"

You took a deep breath and whispered, "No. She's been staying here for about a week to help out. Ever since I started... bleeding."

"Bleeding?" he echoed, his arm wrapping around you a little tighter as you nodded against his neck and tried to gather your thoughts. "Princess, what happened?"

His voice was alert and strong yet worried and cautious, and you told him, "I went to the bathroom last week, and when I wiped I was bleeding." His sharp intake of breath had you scrambling as you said, "The baby is okay."

"Are you okay?" he asked, gently rolling you onto your back to get a better look at your face. "Fuck. I should have never agreed to go away." He ran his big hand across your forehead and down your cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you promised as you cried for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I was just so scared," you admitted, your voice barely a squeak. "I was so scared the baby was gone."

You realized Bradley's fingertips were rubbing soothing circles against your side as he whispered, "I'm sorry I left. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to take care of everything. Please, tell me what happened. Tell me everything."

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Bradley got you cuddled under the covers, and he turned the lamp on so he could better see your face. You looked beautiful if not exhausted, and he was so grateful for his best friend being there for you. "I guess I overdid it a little bit," you admitted. "I took some extra hours at work and started getting the bedroom ready for the baby. I just wanted the weeks to pass quickly, you know? When I started bleeding, I called Natasha, and she came right over. She's basically been here since then."

He kissed your nose. "What did the doctors do?"

You closed your eyes and whispered, "They checked me over. Every inch. And they found that I needed progesterone shots. They caught it just in time, so maybe it was good that I ended up there."

Bradley felt like an idiot, but it didn't matter as long as you were okay. "What's the progesterone for exactly?"

You smiled as you snuggled closer to him. "It'll make my uterus better for the baby. Safer. The injections are pretty common, and I only need to get them a few more times. But I'm tired of all the needles, and now I can kind of understand how some of my own patients feel."

Bradley laced his finger with yours and asked, "And you're sure you're okay? Perfectly safe and healthy?"

"Yes. The baby is, too."

He kissed your forehead as he realized he was crying. "Just as long as you're okay, Princess. I love you." You nodded as you fell asleep, and he knew how badly you needed to rest. After he turned the light off, he held you against his chest and tried to make sense of everything.

You and the baby were okay. Your doctor and the staff from the emergency room were monitoring your blood work every week now. You were getting injections in your thigh which were making your leg sore and bruised, but it was helping the baby. As much as he'd loved flying Shadowhawk, he regretted his time away from home a little bit more now.

When you rolled away from him around six o'clock, he had barely slept. Carefully, he extracted himself from the bed, and Skittles came trotting right over to him. He picked her up and straightened out the wrinkled clothing he had been wearing for way too long, but when he walked out to his kitchen, he found Nat was already there. She turned to face him as Skittles started licking his face, and he walked right into her arms for a hug.

"Thank you," he whispered, letting her hold him while he cried. "Is she really okay? She told me she's fine."

She rubbed his back and said, "Mostly. I think. She is stubborn, Bradley. When I got here, she drove herself to the emergency room before I even had a full grasp of the fact that she was pregnant. She told me to stay with Noah until she came home, and when I told her I'd get Javy to come stay here while I met her at the hospital, she yelled at me."

"That tracks," he said softly. He thought about how you stood up for him and Noah and fought alongside him for custody. Even after you got hurt. Even after he hurt you.

"She was terrified that you'd be upset about a potential miscarriage."

Bradley felt like she slapped him in the face. "Shit," he grunted as she released him from the hug. It wasn't like that kind of thing could usually be prevented. He would have been sad, yeah, but only because he was so excited. He wouldn't have been upset with you though. Not at all. "I'll talk to her more about that when she wakes up." He scratched his head and set Skittles down. "Did you clean my kitchen?"

"Yes," she replied evenly as she switched on the coffee maker. "And if you try to thank me for anything I did, I swear to god, I will fucking key your Bronco. I did it for her, because she needed help."

He caught himself before he could thank her again, too afraid to find out if she was telling the truth. She probably was. "I'll make sure she's getting all the rest she needs. She will not be lifting a finger around here."

"That's what I like to hear," she said, patting him on the chest. "Now, I'm going to take one of your travel mugs full of your overpriced coffee from your fancy machine and head back to my place. I'll call you later, and I'll stop by tonight to hand out candy to your trick-or-treaters while you take Noah around the neighborhood."

"Shit, I guess I need to go out and buy candy and costumes and everything."

As her coffee brewed, Nat said, "It's all been taken care of. The bags of candy are on top of the fridge."

Bradley glanced in that direction and said, "You have to let me repay you, Nat."

She grabbed the travel mug and pulled her keys out of her pocket, brandishing them in his face. "Fuck around and find out, Bradshaw. You will not thank me, and you will not pay me back. You'll just let me come over and play with Noah at least once a week now while you take care of your wife-to-be. Those are my terms. Have a nice day."

"Okay," he called out, following her to the door to make sure her key went directly into her own ignition where it belonged. Then he got to work, pulling up some recipes on his phone; he was going to attempt to be the best dad and almost husband in the entire world, because that's what his family needed.

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If you have been through any of this kind of shit like I have, I'm sending you a hug. It's stressful and scary, and not something you should have to deal with alone. Bradley is home and ready to be the absolute best. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 57

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reiderwriter · 1 year

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The One Thing You Can't Have

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)

Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.

Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception

A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!

With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.

When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.

You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.

"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.

The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.

"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.

He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.

The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.

"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.

"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.

"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.

You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.

After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.

Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.

There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.

After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.

He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.

It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.

He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.

You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.

“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.

It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.

You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.

“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.

He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.

Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.

To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.

“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.

“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.

“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.

“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”

“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.

Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.

Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.

So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.

Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.

So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.

“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.

“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.

“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.

“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”

“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.

Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.

“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.

He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.

“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”

And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.

You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.

It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.

He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.

When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.

You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.

The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.

You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.

"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.

Derek was going to give him hell.

"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."

"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.

"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.

His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.

He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.

It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.

The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.

Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.

Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.

The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.

The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.

"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.

"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.

"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.

"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"

"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.

"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.

"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."

"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.

"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.

He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.

And he had a third pair of your underwear.

He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.

He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.

Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.

It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.

In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.

The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.

You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.

They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.

"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.

You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.

"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.

Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.

"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."

"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.

You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.

"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.

Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.

He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.

You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.

You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.

"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."

"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.

By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.

Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.

Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.

Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.

You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.

This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.

Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.

You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.

He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.

But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.

Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.

You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.

Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.

The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.

With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.

Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.

His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.

He was screwed.

"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.

Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.

"What did I miss?"

"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."

"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.

"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.

"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.

But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.

But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.

He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.

"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.

You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.

He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.

"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.

"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."

"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.

"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.

For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.

“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.

“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”

You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.

Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.

When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.

“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.

“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”

“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”

The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.

“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.

He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.

Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.

“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.

“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.

“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.

“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.

“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.

“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”

“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”

“Was that a threat, Spencer?”

“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”

“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”

“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.

Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.

When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.

“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”

“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.

“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”

You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.

“Peace offering?”

He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.

“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”

He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.

Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.

“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”

“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.

“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”

“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.

His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.

Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.

You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.

You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.

“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.

“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.

When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up

You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.

“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.

You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.

You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.

“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.

“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.

You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.

“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”

You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.

Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.

Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.

“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.

“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.

There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.

“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.

“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.

“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.

“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.

“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.

“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”

“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.

“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.

“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”

“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”

“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.

“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”

“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.

“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.

You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.

“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.

“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”

“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.

“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.

“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.

“What?”

“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.

“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.

“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Spencer! What are you doing?”

“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”

“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.

“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.

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megalony · 4 months

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I Need To Help You- Part 2

This is a follow up to my Eddie Diaz imagine, thank you all for the amazing feedback on the first part. I hope you will all like this one.

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Part 1

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) hasn't been feeling well lately, and when she gets worse while Eddie is at work, Chris has to call him to come home and help.

Enjoy.

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

"How far along were you, roughly?"

Leaning forward, (Y/n) crumpled her chest over until it was almost touching her thighs with her arms bound around her middle and her forehead tipped down on her knees. A groan tumbled past her lips and she rode out the tremors that started to rise back through her system again.

Why was nobody listening to her? Why was everyone presuming she was lying to them? Could nobody see this from her point of view? This was the third person to come into their room and start asking the same questions they had answered the first time around when they got here.

"I don't know! Why aren't you l-listening to me?" Uncurling one hand from her stomach, (Y/n) reached behind her and clamped her hand down around Eddie's wrist when he held onto her shoulder. He sat down just behind her on the bed and leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck.

"Do you think we would of had no antenatal care if we knew she was pregnant? Or that we'd have a home birth with no midwife and no fucking help? Until she gave birth we didn't know she was pregnant."

They would have gone to antenatal check ups and had scans and gotten themselves prepared for this if they knew. They wouldn't leave everything until the day (Y/n) gave birth and hope for the best. This wasn't their idea of a joke and it was far from a practical situation.

"W-where is she?" (Y/n) lifted her head up just enough to do a sweep around the room. She felt like she had blacked out when they brought her through the emergency room and into this room. She hadn't realised Hen had left the room until a few minutes later when she suddenly didn't hear her baby's cries anymore. And that had been near enough half an hour ago since they arrived and their daughter still wasn't back yet.

Hen had rode in the back of the ambulance with (Y/n) and Eddie while Chimney drove the ambulance. Bobby had taken the truck back to the station with Buck and Chris who were heading back to Eddie's house now so Buck could watch Chris until tomorrow. And Bobby had done a quick hand over with the B shift and was now on his way here to check how they were all getting on.

"She's gone to get weighed and checked over, then we'll bring her back to you. Your exam looked fine, nothing retained and the bleeding stopped before you arrived which is good. I'm going to give you some pain relief and a few things to level out your system and combat the shock."

"I wanna go home."

(Y/n) couldn't help the whine that burned at the back of her throat and she turned her head to the side to bury her face in Eddie's neck. Her arm looped around the back of his neck and she pushed herself into his chest until he practically pulled her into his lap.

(Y/n) didn't want to stay here. She had been checked out and their daughter was being looked after. But now she wanted to go home. (Y/n) wanted to get some morphine and go home and curl up with Eddie, Chris and their sudden, new addition.

"We can't go home yet-"

"Eddie, please, please." Tears continued to burn down her face as she clutched at Eddie tighter as if gripping onto him for dear life would make him change his mind.

"No, mi amor you've just had a baby, we're staying here. You're gonna be fine, I'm not leaving you here alone." He smoothed his hand up and down her arm, gently swaying them from side to side. He couldn't take her home no matter how desperately he wanted to, but Eddie wasn't going to run off and leave (Y/n) here on her own. He was staying with her until he could take her and their baby back home safe and sound.

"We would like to keep you in overnight for observation and to make sure baby can take her first feed properly, you both need a bit of TLC."

(Y/n) didn't answer. She knew she wasn't being asked, she was being told and she could understand keeping the baby here for a while. She had been a surprise, there could be any number of complications wrong with her and she needed to be watched so they could ensure she would be okay to go home. But (Y/n) didn't want to stay.

"I'll go fetch a nurse to give you the shots and set you up with some fluids." The doctor smiled at them weakly before she turned and headed out the room, leaving the door open when she passed someone outside.

"How are we doing?" Bobby rapped his knuckles on the door and poked his head round, grinning softly when Eddie waved him inside.

He was family, with Eddie's family being back in Texas and his relationship with his own dad being strained, Bobby was almost a surrogate father to him and most of the team. He didn't have to stand and lurk in doorways waiting for permission to come in. Bobby walked over and sat down in the chair on the right side of the bed. And he leaned across to rest his hand comfortingly on (Y/n)'s knee.

"I feel sick." (Y/n) grumbled quietly as she shifted around on the bed. She crossed her legs beneath her and slumped her back up against Eddie's chest, smiling weakly when Eddie's arms curled around her waist. He rubbed his hands soothingly over her aching stomach and pressed his lips to the top of her head with a small smile.

"I can imagine… right, now I've brought some of the paperwork with me to finish up while I stay with you and make sure you're both alright." Bobby didn't want to bombard either of them if they were in too much shock to think and go over things right now. But he suspected that they would want something to take their minds off of things and it would keep them all occupied.

Bobby knew (Y/n) didn't do well in hospitals. He had restrained (Y/n) with Eddie on more than one occasion when she tried to discharge herself from the hospital even though she had been in bad condition. And either way right now, Bobby wasn't going anywhere so he could fill some other forms in if they weren't up to it yet.

He was staying until (Y/n) was checked onto a ward and the baby was given the all clear. Then he would have to make a few calls and sort some cover shifts since Eddie would now be going on leave.

Eddie nodded and ran a hand over his jaw and chin before he went back to keeping his arms tight around (Y/n), holding her into his chest. He began swaying them from left to right as he watched Bobby.

Bobby rummaged around in his pocket for a pen and set all the papers he brought with him down on the little pull across table. He could fill out the incident report on his own when he was back at the station, but he needed to write a few things down now and get ready for Eddie's time off.

There was protocols to follow whenever a family member was taken to hospital or treated out on a call, and (Y/n) was family. And they had to write up what happened on their calls to prove they gave the right treatment, just in case anyone tried to sue.

"You didn't know you were pregnant, right? I just need to be sure."

"No… I thought I was having a prolapse." (Y/n) huffed and glanced down at her hands as she spoke. But keeping her eyes open felt too hard and she was too exhausted to be embarrassed.

She let her eyes close and snuggled down against Eddie's chest, clinging to his arms that were wrapped around her chest and waist. She needed whatever comfort she could get right now and her body was still shaking and spasming in his arms.

She didn't suspect she might be even one month pregnant. She had been waiting just over a month or so for her latest period to happen but she was usually random and late so it wasn't a big deal. Clearly, what she thought was a short period had been spotting during the pregnancy. (Y/n) would have told Eddie if she suspected anything. They had talked, briefly, about starting a family and if she thought that was happening she would have told him.

When the pains got worse (Y/n) thought she was having a prolapse or having some kind of blockage or a hernia. A baby didn't cross her mind at all.

"Okay," Bobby's voice was soft and he briefly gave (Y/n)'s knee a squeeze while he jotted a few more notes down.

This was mainly to cover themselves and so he could get Eddie some emergency annual leave approved. They were supposed to give four weeks notice for any leave they wanted but Eddie couldn't have done that in this situation and he undoubtedly needed time to be home with his family right now.

(Y/n) reached down to grab Eddie's hand and started to mess around with his fingers. She swirled the wedding ring around a few times and traved the pad of her finger up and down his hand with a feather-like touch.

"I don't think the Chief will have a problem with you're early leave. I've approved you for two weeks, if you need any more than that just let me know. I'll pinch someone from another station to cover your shifts."

Bobby hastily wrote a little paragraph, trying to keep his hand steady as possible. It didn't have to be long-winded, his incident report would be long enough and contain all the details. But he needed a brief summary and once Eddie signed off on it, he would be on annual leave as of now.

"I'm sure Maddie will help you get your maternity leave from work, but if you need me to do anything in that regard, I'd be happy to."

A quiet groan left (Y/n)'s lips as she pushed further back into Eddie, feeling tears tracing down the bridge of her nose at the thought of work.

She was supposed to be on shift at dispatch in the morning. She hadn't even told Maddie what had happened or had chance to get hold of Sue and explain that she wouldn't be on shift for the next few months. How was she going to explain this?

'Sorry I can't come into work, I've had a baby?'

No one was going to believe her. They would think she was crazy or had tried to hide the pregnancy. Maddie wasn't going to believe this and (Y/n) had a feeling Buck would have rung her by now anyway to give the gossip and explain what their little sister had gone and done.

"They'll fire me." She mewled, letting the tears splash down her face as she smothered her face into Eddie's arm and curled her knees up to her aching stomach that was on fire.

"No they won't, mi amor."

"How could I not h-have known?"

Tears continued to stream down (Y/n)'s face and the trembling in her system got worse. Eddie pulled his lower lip between his teeth as his cheek brushed against the top of her head. He held her tighter, trying his best to comfort her as he hushed her quietly.

"It happens, baby. Sue will understand, I'll talk to her, don't worry." Eddie had always gotten along with Sue down at dispatch and he knew she was the understanding type.

She would immediately understand because she knew (Y/n) and had seen her every week when she was at work. She had clearly seen that (Y/n) didn't look pregnant and that she hadn't told anyone or acted like she was and she would see that this wasn't some great scheme. Sue would understand their predicament and approve (Y/n)'s leave and try to help where she could.

Bobby put his paperwork away before he reached out and rubbed (Y/n)'s arm affectionately.

"I'll speak to Sue in the morning, I can get the doctor to fax her a report from tonight and your medical history. That will show you haven't received any antenatal care and Sue will need to approve you for maternity leave, it won't be an issue."

(Y/n) managed to open her eyes that were still watering when she looked across at Bobby. He would do that for them? He would speak to the doctor and Sue and try to sort this so they didn't have to worry? Affection flooded her eyes and she tried to smile his way, despite how her head was fogging over and she just knew once she was given that morphine, she would be out like a light.

She only wished they could have done this pregnancy ordeal in the usual fashion.

Things would have been so much easier if they'd of only known about the baby beforehand. Why did (Y/n)'s body have to be different and conceal this little fact- this little life- from her like a surprise present she wasn't supposed to know about?

Why couldn't she have known before now? Eight months of nothing and then all of a sudden, she was landed with a baby in her arms.

***

"Okay?" Eddie's lips attached to the side of (Y/n)'s head and his hands found her arms, giving a gentle squeeze as he walked up behind her. His chest merged against her back and he smiled softly against her skin when she let herself lean back into him.

"It feels like a dream." Her head tilted back on his shoulder but her eyes wouldn't drift away from the newborn in her arms.

It was too strange to be real.

They were about to walk into their home with a baby. (Y/n) still couldn't believe this weight in her arms was her own little girl; her own version of her and Eddie. This was their baby that they were bringing home.

She wasn't going to be back at work for a few months now. She was going to be home looking after Chris and Bella. No more sleep-filled nights. No more time to themselves when Chris was at school and they were off work. Everything was going to be revolving around the kids now, they were going to be looking after a newborn, not just a nine year old.

A worried smile pulled at her lips when Eddie wormed his arms around her, keeping one arm glued to her waist while the other hand carefully rested over Bella who was snuggled into (Y/n)'s arms.

The further they walked up the path, the more trepidation (Y/n) could feel swirling in her stomach, taking over her body. Were they ready for this? What if (Y/n) couldn't do this? What if she wasn't going to be a good mother to a newborn? Chris was different, she had been in his life since he was almost five years old and for the last four years she had taken on the role as his mum.

She had looked after Chris since he was little more than a toddler. She'd never been around when he was born or had much experience with looking after newborns.

This was all foreign territory to her.

"Eddie, we don't have anything ready for her-"

"I'll sort it, I promise, mi amor. Let's just get inside first." He knew (Y/n) had been through enough, he didn't want her to stand around and panic any longer. He would sort everything, Bobby had already given him two weeks off and Buck had today off. Buck would be more than happy to stay with (Y/n) and Chris so Eddie could head out and get everything they would need for Bella.

She stepped back into Eddie, eyes wide when the front door opened before she could even ask Eddie for his key.

Chris was stood on the other side of the door, a bright smile on his face, so wide that he could barely keep his eyes open. And before he uttered one word, Chris pushed forward and barracaded his arms around (Y/n)'s waist with his face meshed into her stomach just beneath her arms. His hands scrunched up in Eddie's waist and he giggled before he tilted his head back and carefully peeked at the bundle in her arms.

He had briefly seen Bella yesterday, but not for long.

After the whole debacle, Chris barely slept, he and Buck had spent most of the night watching movies in the lounge, both too hyped to go to sleep. Then Buck had taken Chris down to see (Y/n) and his new little sister before they both came back home for the rest of the day. Chris hadn't slept much last night either, too excited that his parents and new sibling would be coming back home in the morning. And Chris had been telling everyone he could that his mum had had a surprise baby, and now, finally, they were all going to be back home.

"You're home!"

"We are, now can you let us in?" Eddie quipped back with a smirk plastered across his face and he reached out to ruffle Chris's wild curls that clearly hadn't seen a brush this morning.

Chris whined quietly but he obliged and shuffled back, still keeping his arms about both parents so it looked like he was dragging them in the house.

"There you are, how are you feeling?"

A smile fluttered over (Y/n)'s lips when her brother came into her sights. He reeled an arm around her waist, pulling her out of Eddie's embrace and into his own. Careful not to nudge or squish the newborn in her arms. He grinned down at Bella, brushing his thumb across her cheek. She had been awake and wriggling around yesterday when Buck held her for the first time and he was so proud, just like he was when Jee had been born.

"Rough," (Y/n) mumbled back, but her smile was enough to tell her brother she wasn't upset or distraught. She was coping as well as she could be right now.

She leaned around Buck when a movement caught her eye and her lips quirked up when she noticed her sister hurrying out the kitchen towards them. (Y/n) hadn't talked to Maddie yet, but she knew Buck had told her what had happened. No one had spoken to their parents yet though, (Y/n) wasn't ready to brave that phone call just yet.

"Hi!" Maddie reached out and wrapped (Y/n) up in a tender hug, keeping an air of space between them to be careful of the newborn who was just beginning to stir.

"Now do you believe me?"

"No, no I don't think so." A bright grin spread across Maddie's face and she cooed down at the little girl before stretching her arms down, silently begging for a cuddle of her first niece. "I still can't get over this."

She had seen her sister no more than five days ago and Maddie didn't have the slightest inkling that she had been pregnant. (Y/n) didn't look, feel or act as if she might have been close to giving birth and Maddie couldn't imagine the trauma this had created. Being in so much pain and not understanding why. Giving birth on her own with her son frightened in the next room and her family on their way to help her.

It was a relief to everyone that (Y/n) and the baby were both okay, so many things could have gone wrong that night.

"We have a surprise." Chris grinned up at Eddie and wrapped his arms around his dad's waist before he looked over at Buck. "Can we show them now?" He had waited all morning for them to come home and now they were here, Chris didn't want to wait any longer to show them what the three of them had been up to all day yesterday.

"Go ahead."

Chris grabbed (Y/n)'s hand and started tugging until she relented and slowly followed him down the hall. She felt Eddie's hands on her waist and his lips against the back of her head as they headed down the hall, being dragged along by Chris. Buck was close behind with Maddie beside him and Bella asleep in her arms.

"What are you doing?" Eddie mumbled softly when he noticed Chris aim for the study rather than his or even their bedroom.

Chris began laughing, swaying his and (Y/n)'s entwined hands back and forth while he slowly opened the door to the study and dragged them inside. A loud 'surprise' flew past his lips and he stood, practically vibrating like a rocket about to launch in the middle of the room.

(Y/n) couldn't breathe. All the air disappeared from her lungs and her free hand moved to grab Eddie's wrist, but she could feel him right behind her. His chest tensed and pushed out into her back and his fingers dug into her hips when he looked around the room.

How had they done this in the space of one day?

"You- Jesus, Buck." His words were affectionate, coming out in a breathless huff as he looked over his shoulder. Eyes wide, jaw dropped, shoulders sagging down.

"Now we couldn't get everything sorted, and we weren't sure what colour scheme you'd want, but Chris picked out the stickers and we thought it was better than messing about re-painting the walls." Buck clapped a hand down on Eddie's shoulder while he looked around the room, shoulders tense and chest tight with apprehension.

He didn't want them to feel like he and Maddie had tried to take over, but they wanted to do something to help.

They knew Eddie and (Y/n) would be struggling now they were home. They would have to sort this room into a nursery, buy everything they needed for Bella. Nappies, bottles, clothes, pram, all of that for a start without thinking of the cot or the wipes and accessories and all the necessities they would need. It was a lot.

It was something they should have had the last eight months to sort out slowly, over time. But with how sudden Bella made her arrival, Buck and Maddie thought they should at least lend a hand.

The study was a pale cream, a dusty vanilla shade that actually looked quite nice once the room was cleared out. There had only been a desk and chair, a computer and a few shelves and ornaments on units.

Now though, the room was reinvented.

(Y/n) bit her lip as she looked around, doing slow circles from left to right, taking in the expanse of the room.

Large Winnie The Pooh wall stickers were dotted around the room, various pictures of Winnie with a red balloon, Tigger, Piglet and Eeyore all dancing around the walls. There was a cot on the right side of the room, the old chest of drawers that used to be unused beneath the window was now opposite the cot. And stacks of clothes ranging from mini socks, pull ups, onesies, mittens, bibs and dresses were all neatly stacked and lined up in front of the cot.

Maddie didn't want to put any of the clothes away in case (Y/n) didn't want them all. She thought it would be best to let her sister go through everything and decide what she wanted and what she didn't like.

The nicnacs had been rearranged, most of them taken out of the room. There were teddies in the cot and a few on the shelves. (Y/n) recognised the selection of teddies from her and Eddie's room, the teddies she and Buck had had since they were little which (Y/n) never brought herself to get rid of. And there were a few toys in the cot that she knew belonged to Chris, which he was graciously donating to his little sister.

"Is this okay? Did we do good?" Buck began to run his hands up and down his thighs when neither Eddie nor (Y/n) said anything. They just looked around in wonder like they had walked into Narnia.

"Mum?" Chris continued to bounce up and down, pushing up on his toes and then sinking back down on his heels as he eagerly awaited a response.

He wasn't quite expecting his mum to deadlock her arms around him and drag him into her arms. Her face buried in his curls and he froze for a second when he realised she was crying. But when he felt her kiss his temple, repeating 'thank you, baby' into his hair, he began to giggle. And he was more than eager when she let him go and Eddie reeled him in for a cuddle.

"You- you didn't have to… thank you."

(Y/n) hated the way she trembled when she reached out and wrapped her arms around her big brother. She pulled Buck close and buried her face in his chest, feeling her tears soaking into his shirt, but he just held her tighter. He bound his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head, smiling broadly as if he had just heard news that he was being commemorated for something.

"Anything for you." He wanted to help. He wanted to make himself useful and do something nice for his sister. He didn't want her and Eddie to struggle or panic and anything he could do to make things easier for them, he would.

Easing Bella into her left arm, Maddie reached out and gave (Y/n)'s shoulder a light squeeze as she stepped close to her two siblings.

"It's mostly Jee's old stuff, if you don't mind second-hand? And everyone at the station had a few baby clothes they were more than happy to give. They said call it belated baby shower gifts."

Maddie had agreed immediately when Buck called and asked if she would help him and Chris sort out a nursery for their sister. She had kept Jee's cot and some of her baby clothes and a few toys and dummies and little nicnacs that had all been boxed up. She didn't find it likely that she and Chimney would be having another baby, at least not anytime soon. So she was more than happy to hand most of the stuff over to her little sister to help them out.

And Hen and Karen had a lot of things they had given to Buck since they fostered all different aged kids and had clothes piled up for emergency placements.

"Thank you, this really means a lot." Eddie kept his right arm looped around Chris's shoulders while he reached over and pulled Buck into a hug.

They had saved him and (Y/n) a lot of panicking and rushing about, it was a hefty weight off of their shoulders. Barely two days old and already their little girl was spoiled.

***

Eddie leaned his head around the living room door and took a peek inside. He rose a brow and slowly padded across towards the sofa, taking in the sight of his family. Maddie was curled up on the armchair with Jee perched on her lap, both of them relaxed and looking like they were about to fall asleep.

Chimney was on the other armchair, playing another game of cards with Buck even though Chris had long since given up playing against them and toddled off to his room.

When his eyes landed on his wife, Eddie's smile softened and his arms folded over his chest. (Y/n) was laid on the sofa next to Buck, her legs over his lap, Bella snuggled down on her chest and a blanket over the pair of them. Both girls were fast asleep.

"Comfy?" Eddie murmured, looking across at Buck who was slouched down on the sofa, keeping his cards close to his chest since he kept demanding Chimney was cheating.

"Yep."

Eddie nodded while he crouched down beside the sofa and looked down at Bella. She was probably due another feed now and he would rather do that than wake (Y/n).

He muttered a soft "Come here baby," and eased Bella into his arms as carefully as he could, trying not to wake (Y/n) rather than the newborn. His lips attached to the top of her head and he gently started to sway from one side to the next. He knew he would have to wake (Y/n) soon when the food arrived, but he wanted to let her sleep a bit longer.

Chimney had finished work, picked up Jee and come straight down to see them all and they all decided to have a family night and eat tea together.

When he heard Chris's bedroom door swing open, Eddie turned and moved towards the hall. His brows furrowed and his lips stayed meshed against his daughter's temple, keeping her bundled up against his chest as he looked over at his son.

"Dad!"

"What's up bud?"

"Nan and pops don't believe me! Tell them about Bella!"

A quiet groan rumbled past Eddie's lips and he tilted his head back, mentally cursing Chris for ringing them already. He knew Chris wouldn't be able to refrain from telling everyone, but Eddie had hoped he wouldn't call his parents just yet.

He had been so focused on trying to get (Y/n) and Bella home and sorting the house that he hadn't called his parents yet. There had been far too much going on and all the team and family popping by. They hadn't even been home a full day yet, Eddie wanted today to be home and try to get settled. He had planned to call his parents first thing in the morning and tell them the surprise news because he knew they would be on a plane down here the moment they knew.

Jugging Bella into the crook of his left arm, Eddie reached out and took the phone from Chris, muttering a soft "Go supervise uncle Buck." and watched as Chris happily hurried off.

He had called his grandparents in his room because he knew Eddie would tell him not to, but he wanted them to know. He wanted to be the one to explain that (Y/n) had had a baby and Chris now had a little sister. He wanted to tell them because Chris knew they would come down and visit for sure now.

"Eddie, sweetheart." His mum smiled so brightly it caused Eddie to smile in response.

He held the phone up to his face and slowly headed into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on.

"Hi ma, you both okay?" He could scarcely see his dad in the corner of the camera, trying his best to lean in and look at his son.

"What's Chris going on about? Is (Y/n) pregnant? Are you going to have a baby?" The anticipation in his mum's voice made Eddie's heart soften and explode at the same time.

He could see the hope swelling up in her eyes and her red lips were curved into such a wide grin that made Eddie feel bad. He wished they had known about Bella beforehand. He wished he could be giving his mum the news in the proper way, telling her and sending her a scan picture and having time to get things ready. His parents weren't going to take this news lightly, the shock would settle in quick, he knew it.

His mum had gathered from Chris that (Y/n) had to be pregnant, but Chris kept rushing through his words because he was so happy. And when he said (Y/n) had had a baby, they thought he was getting mixed up with his words. They had talked to (Y/n) and Eddie only two weeks ago, and they said nothing about being pregnant.

"How far along is she? Chris kept saying you've got a baby girl, he was getting confused, bless him."

"Uh, no papi… um, (Y/n) wasn't well Friday night," He tilted his head back and tried to gather some unknown strength from somewhere. He couldn't help but wince when he looked back down at his parents. "She went into labour and had a baby Friday night."

"I- I'm sorry?"

"Edmundo, why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't know! The doctor called it a cryptic pregnancy, we had no idea she was pregnant. We just got home today, I uh, I guess Chris was too excited to wait to tell you."

He had never seen his mother's jaw hang so loose before. Her wide brown eyes were watering up and she smothered her open mouth with her palm while she leaned to the side into her husband. Whereas his dad was sat with furrowed brows and a curled upper lip. He removed his glasses and ran a hand across his face, trying to process what he was being told.

"Is she okay? Is the baby okay?" A flurry of other words fell past his mother's lips but Eddie couldn't work them all out.

To stop her from rambling on, Eddie slowly tilted the phone down, panning the screen along his plain black shirt before the camera finally settled on the bundle in his arms. Bella was curled up in his arm, both her hands hidden in mittens, arms curled to her chest and her knees pulled up near her tummy. Her eyes were scrunched closed and her button nose was twitched up while her cheek nuzzled into Eddie's shirt.

"Meet Isabella," Softness melted around the edges of his voice and he could hear his mother gasping and a quiet sound rumbled past his father's lips. His dad had never been so quiet and dumb-struck before.

He twisted to lean his hips back against the counter and crossed one leg over the other while he pulled Bella up a bit higher so she was cuddled against his upper chest. Allowing Eddie to see his parents on screen again but also keep Bella within their sights so they could fawn over their granddaughter.

"Chris wasn't joking," This was the first time in a long while that Eddie had seen his father tear up.

"They're both doing great, considering the shock. The doctor said she's perfectly healthy and (Y/n)'s doing great."

"Can- can we come down, visit you all?" There was something hidden in his mother's voice, as if she thought Eddie would tell her no.

His parents hadn't been over to LA since Eddie first moved here. He, Chris and (Y/n) had always made trips down to Texas to see them because it was convenient and easier for them all. But now, with a newborn and a lot of stuff to sort out, his parents coming here was going to be their easiest option.

"We'd love that."

Eddie propped the phone up against the coffee cannister and began prepping a bottle single-handed while Bella stayed in his left arm. He chimed in whenever his parents asked him a question and he smiled brightly when he could hear his mum cooing and trying to get a better look at the newborn. And he could already hear his dad getting his own phone out, saying how he was going to call the girls (Eddie's sisters) and tell them each the good news.

That meant Eddie would be swamped with phone calls tonight from all three of them and no doubt his sisters would be face-timing them. He knew what they were like. They had been round every day to see Chris when he had been born. They would likely send presents down here to LA if they couldn't make a trip to visit them.

When the bottle was made, Eddie tucked it under his arm and grabbed the phone, making his way back into the living room where everyone was crowded together.

"Ma and papi are on the phone, wanna say hi?" He tilted the phone down towards (Y/n) when he stood beside the sofa, noticing that she was still curled up but she was awake now. Presumably she woke up not long after he removed Bella from her arms.

His brows furrowed and his head tilted to one side when he realised (Y/n) was biting her lower lip and he could see tears hiding in her eyes. The way her nose crinkled and how she was pressing her lips together showed she looked like she wanted to cry and that made nerves spark through Eddie's chest.

But (Y/n) took the phone from him and tried to plaster a small yet somewhat exhausted smile on her face. She had always gotten along with Eddie's parents, even if his relationship with them had been strained. They felt more like parents to (Y/n) than her own parents were.

He watched (Y/n) sit up a bit straighter and Chris leaned into her side, wedged between her and Buck.

Eddie slowly moved to sit down on the floor in front of (Y/n) and leaned his back up against the sofa. He pressed the bottle to Bella's lips and started to feed her while his eyes swept around the room.

Everyone looked a little on edge now and it made his heartbeat pick up. His eyes finally settled on Maddie and he rose a brow.

"What's up?"

"I… I told mum and dad the good news."

"…Okay?"

Had they had a bad reaction? Eddie knew the Buckleys well enough to know they weren't supportive at the best of times. He had a feeling that they wouldn't be so happy or endearing about this. Part of him was sure that they wouldn't be as interested because it was (Y/n) who'd had a baby and not Maddie. They had been happy and involved when Maddie had Jee.

Maddie pursed her lips and held her daughter tighter, looking across at her little brother who had his arms crossed over his chest and a grumpy look on his face that he was trying and failing to hide.

She finally sighed and leaned forward, feeling guilty as ever for telling their parents, but (Y/n) asked her to. (Y/n) knew she needed to tell them now rather than letting any more time pass by, but she didn't have the nerve to start up that conversation. And neither did Buck. They all knew their parents were more understanding and easy going when it was Maddie they were talking to.

So she had done as she was asked and tried to calmly explain to their parents that (Y/n) had given birth despite not knowing she was pregnant.

"They're coming down for a visit."

#imagine #911 imagine #eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley #maddie buckley han #eddie x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz

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multifariousqueer · 1 year

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Hello girl! how are you? doing well?

Can I request a E 42 yandere miles X reader? Am yes, E 42 reader is dead, omg how original XD

But the E 42 reader had this "church girl" or "flower girl" innocent type persona. And when E 1610 reader arrived with miles, she is a loud, cusses out a lot and has a hammer with her at all times.

E 42 miles sees her and while stunned to see such drastic personality change, he still sees his beloved in her and wants to keep her in his world and in his life? Add flashbacks if ya like! you can change it if you want! whatever makes it be awesome! luv you! <3

Hey, love!! I can totally do this

Suerte- Miles G x Reader

A/n: I hope y’all enjoy this!!

Warnings: strong language, angst, suggestiveness, reader being a spider person, descriptions of blood and yandere behavior, kidnapping, lmk if I missed anymore

You were falling off of a building, it seemed your screams would never end as you looked up into the endless sky waiting for someone, anyone to save you. Miles watched as he tried to run and save you but by then it was too late, the sound of your skull hitting the pavement and the crimson blood that flowed from your nose was enough to indicate that you were gone and there was no saving you. Miles cradled your softer skull as the police and ambulance arrived.

Suddenly, Miles woke up in a cold sweat. It was Sunday now, and he had to get ready for church the only reason he was going was because you convinced him too

You managed to convince Miles to do just about anything; he just couldn’t say no to your adorable face and he hated disappointing you. You two seemed like an odd couple at first, with Miles being tough, cold and closed off whereas you were bright, happy, innocent and it seemed like you could do no wrong. You went to church every Sunday, you prayed all the time, you helped everyone and everything and Miles fell for your soft innocence and your warmth. He fell for your simplicity, your poise, your patience and how you felt like a piece of heaven.

The day he lost you was the day he lost himself. Miles was never the same after you left; he closed himself off completely and adopted the Prowler moniker. He felt like he failed you and that you would be so dissapointed if you saw him now. Miles would have flashbacks to you telling him how much you loved him and how you would always love him in every universe, so he decided to pray and beg God for you back and eventually, he got that.

“MILES WHERE THE FLYING FUCK ARE WE??” you shouted

“I’M TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT, Y/N” Miles shouted back

You and your Miles were best friends since you both came to Visions. He found out you had powers the same as him and you two clicked immediately. It seemed you two were fated to be together; same music taste, fashion choices and morals its just you were a bit more harsh than him

“I think we’re home?” Miles questioned

“I don’t remember Brooklyn looking this shitty” you said

“It’s just dark, come on, we can go to my house. My mom loves you” you said

Mrs. Morales loved you because not only were you quick on your feet, you also made Miles happy and you made a great first impression. She thought you were exactly like Miles, just more abrasive and she thought you were sweet.

You went to Miles room and it looked different, almost more grown. Your spider-sense went off and just as you went to tell Miles, Rio was there and greeting him. She looked at you like she had seen a ghost, tears spilling from her...green eyes??

“Y/n?” she whispered

“Yeah? Hi Mrs. Morales” you went, going to give her a hug which she reciprocated just more eagerly

“Oh Mija, I thought you were dead. Gracias Dios, you answered my prayers” she said, sobbing and looking up at the sky

Her and Miles had a conversation and you both revealed your identities in which she was indifferent about. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal an Uncle Aaron.

He saw you and his eyes went wide. He stalked closer to you before grabbing your shoulders and shaking his head

“Is it really you, y/n?” he said

“uhh yeah last time I checked” you chuckled, grabbing your body as a joke

“Where did you go? How are you here?” he asked in disbelief

“Well interesting story actually, we used something called our legs and walked here” you joked, usually Aaron could appreciate your humor because it was one of the things he told Miles before he died

“Miles, you won’t find another girl like her. Girls like y/n don’t come around like that so I’d advise you to keep her"

“Got it” Miles would say

It was like you were looking into a portal of dead people, your entire body clenched when his gaze suddenly went cold.

He lead Miles and you to the roof when suddenly, you felt a strong stinging in your neck and just as you were about to hit the floor, a strong pair of arms grabbed you and you heard voices

“She’s not your, y/n man. She’s meaner”

“I don’t care"

You awoke with a splitting headache on a couch. Your limbs were handcuffed together and it was dark; your eyes immediately went to search for your Miles when you saw him tied to a bag

“He won’t be up for a bit, hes out cold. Maybe we can keep him that way” a voice said

“He’s not the only one who’s gonna be out cold. Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” you snapped

“Hm. So hostile, my Y/n would never speak like that” a man said approaching you

“Dawg are you smoking crack? Speed? Bath Salts? Because you gotta be fucked up if you think-“ you started

“la muchacha sucia(dirty girl), I should’ve put that gag on you while you were out” he said, taking off his mask to reveal your boyfriend just more gaunt

“Listen here you Rick and Morty knockoff, if you try that, I will bite your finger off, comprende?” you said

“Si. Eres muy bonita pero tu boca es tan asquerosa. I can tell you aren’t from here” he smirked

“Just so you know, just because you called me pretty doesn’t mean I won’t crush your nuts the second I get out of these chains. Listen, your knockoff prowler suit doesn’t scare me and neither do these chains, I could break out right now but I’m intrigued” you said

You heard groaning and saw your Miles move

“MILES” you screamed into the other Miles’ ear

“Y/N. GET AWAY FROM HER” your Miles shouted

The other Miles ignored him but he grabbed your throat and forced you to look up at him

“It’s not a knockoff mami and unless you want to find out just how powerful this suit can be, I suggest you pipe down. It’s gonna take a bit of work, maybe force” he tightened his grip at force, causing your eyes to water and your tongue to come out

“But I think I can make it work. You may not be exactly like her, but you’ll be close enough” Miles said, lowly

If the circumstances weren’t what they were, Miles would’ve found your position hot, you were tied up, tongue hanging out a bit and your eyes looked so pretty; in his mind, you were giving him the “fuck me” eyes but in reality, you were using this as a way to escape

The idea of playing along until he got his wish came to mind but you realized this was deeper than that, he wanted you in every form and if it wasn’t you, what’s to stop him from taking another version of you that may accidentally come by.

“What happened, mami? You had so much to say, say it.” Miles taunted, hand still flush against your throat

“Yeah its kinda hard when you’re choking the life outta me” you said

He took his hand off your throat and you coughed.

“Dude just leave her alone, okay? You can have me, kill me just please let her go” your Miles said, his voice faltering at the end

“Oh but where’s the fun in that? Plus cabron, I don’t want you at all, its not about you. It’s about her and her making a promise

“What promise did I make?” you asked

Miles got a flashback of you laying next to him, playing with his braids and giggling

“I’ll love you in every universe, Miles Morales” you said sweetly

Miles teared up and explained this to you

“Okay well bud, I’m not her and in a way, I do love you in every universe, I love my Miles but” you said before he slammed his fist next to you, causing you to yelp

“I am your Miles, mi amor. At least, I will be. I’m never letting you go again” he said close to your face, hovering above your lips before getting up and striding over to your Miles

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sanest-bsd-delegate · 5 months

Text

──SOULMATE [Part-1]

⪩oneshot: Soulmates are meant to be with each other, even if death do them apart.

⪩pairing: Dazai x reader

⪩a/n: soulmate au where the soulmate will feel other's pain in form of flowers blooming in the hurt area

Nothing seemed to make Dazai happy. Sure the fake mask of his personality he wore everyday could deceive others, he could fool everyone but himself, and maybe his soulmate too. Dazai viewed it like a curse. Soulmates shouldn't exist in the first place. He couldn't help but empathize and feel sad for his soulmate, for every suicidal tactic he survived, his soulmate will be somewhere, getting hurt or injured by the flowers and thorns that grew. And yet, with no sign of revenge, his soulmate never sent him a flower when he sent a bouquet of them. Human mind is weird. Should he be happy about it? He didn't knew.

You were tired. You were so tired of this life, this soulmate link that existed between you and your soulmate. Whatever his job was, how could he be so reckless. At first, you thought maybe he is still in his teen spirit dirtbag era, but it wasn't the case. For every flower that bloomed on your skin left the scars of the openings. It pained a lot at first, but you got used to it. You wanted to end this connection. It was tiring for you. As you would sob about how tough your life get, another flower would bloom open in your arms, like a lover sending his love a bouquet of flowers. You would smile a little, maybe you weren't alone in the sufferings of this world, maybe your soulmate is too, and maybe, just maybe you both could fill the emptiness in your heart with each other.

You were walking on the street returning from your job when suddenly a sharp throbbing pain arises in your forehead. Did you forget to take your medicine? Is it because of you using your phone? Are you getting heartburn? What ever the reason was, it pained so much, it felt like someone wants to burst your head open with all the forces they got. You drop on your knees, holding the pain, it hurts so much, and you didn't even know what was the cause of that. People surrounded you, calling for an ambulance, and shifting you to a hospital. The last thing you remembered were the shocking faces of people and the concerned medical team trying to talk to you. And then, you lost consciousness.

Dazai was devastated, how could chuuya shoot his head thrice? "CHUUYAAA HOW COULD YOUUUU" Dazai whined, forgetting that his soulmate existed somewhere. Maybe he was selfish, maybe people would call him a person who lacked feelings, but did it matter when the world's fate was in his hands? Chuuya did nothing but shake his head in disapproval, as both of them were on their way to walk out of the prision. Dazai whistled led all his way walking, annoying chuuya every second he got. "Can you stop being annoying?" "Come on shorthat, we have been doing this since the long time" Dazai replied, his arm around Chuuya's shoulder as they walk, "Cant believe i still have to bend my knees to get to your height".

A brief moment of silence passed when Dazai wined in pain….No it wasn't the usual physical pain he felt for the first time, it was something intense and deep, an emotion he had never felt before….it felt like his soul would ripe apart if he breathe any longer and then he felt numb.

"Are you going to just stand still? we have the world to save you know?" Chuuya remarked, rolling his eyes as he opens the door stepping outside for others to see that infact they were alive. Dazai does nothing but remained silent at his remark, before walking out the door. Suddenly he felt something on his forehead, it was a withered leaf, sticking on his forehead. Maybe it came with the wind, yeah maybe.

His soulmate had died and it was way to long gone before he could have realized.

TAGLIST: @averagehisoilluenjoyer @high-on-dazai @ruru-kiss @kissesmellow21 @just2normalperson

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#bsd x reader #bsd #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #drabbles #requests to sbd #bsd dazai #dazai #bungo stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #bsd manga

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steveshairychest · 2 years

Text

Time travel au where Steve is the last one to go through the gate in Eddie's trailer, except when he comes out, he's not in his Hawkins anymore. Instead of being greeted by the sight of his friends safe and sound and Wayne's mug collection, he's standing in some random guys trailer.

He gets shoved out the front door and into the strange new world that is undoubtedly Hawkins, but not the Hawkins he remembers.

Everything feels wrong. The people look strange in their weird clothes and a lady across the park screams into a flat rectangle in her hand. The trailers look the same but there's something about them that's definitely wrong. Some guy blows smoke in his face while walking past and instead of the gross smell of cigarette he was expecting, it smells sweet, almost like strawberries. He's so fucking confused. He knows he's causing a scene by walking around gaping at everything, but what else is he supposed to do? Steal a car and drive off? He's never seen cars like this in his entire life!! Do they even work the same way?!

Maybe he has a concussion. Maybe this is his version of a vecna hallucination.

And then things only get more confusing when a little girl runs over to him and beams up at Steve like they've been best friends forever. "Hi, Mr Harrington! Why are you here?" She can't be older than 9.

Why does this little girl know him? He stares at her and his confusion must show because she tilts her head and frowns. "Are you okay, Mr Harrington?"

She keeps calling him Mr Harrington, is he a teacher here? Oh god, does that mean there's another version of himself running around here?! Wherever here is.

"I'm... fine. I'm just a little lost." He walks away before he scares the poor girl with his rising hysterics. Steve knows these roads like the back of his hand, he's driven them his entire life, but he takes a million wrong turns because there's suddenly so many new streets he's never even heard of. Where there should be a huge clearing, there is now a building so high Steve swears it touches the sky and the tree him and Robin used to have picnics under is now gone and replaced with a parking lot filled with more weird cars.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?!" Steve finally makes it to where his house should be and there's... nothing. It's just a block of land for sale. It tips him over the edge. He can't remember the last time he cried but right now he is balling and hiccuping as he stumbled down the street he grew up on. But it's wrong. It's all so wrong. People drive past and give him weird looks, a lady even stops jogging and takes out the tiny earplugs that play music so loud Steve can hear it, and asks if he's OK. "No, I'm not. This isn't real. This isn't real!"

It has to be vecna. He's got him. That's why he's stuck in this nightmare. "You have to play music! Give me your plug things! Make them play anything! Get me out of here." The woman refuses and does nothing but stand there in shock as Steve sinks down to the sidewalk and starts singing Everybody Wants to Rule The World as loud as he can.

"I'm calling 911. You need help." Steve doesn't hear her. He's singing so loud people are starting to come out of their houses to see what's going on but that doesn't matter to him. This isn't real. Vecna has him and he needs to get out.

When the ambulance pulls up, Steve's run out of tears. He's cried himself dry and he's resigned to the fact that any minute now, Vecna is going to snap his arms and legs. "I'm ready." He says quietly to no one but himself. He'd rather it be him than any of his friends. He knows they are probably watching him and trying to bring him back but it's too late. He can't hear the music they're playing.

"Steve?" A familiar voice drags him out of his own head, but it can't be real. He heard that voice take its final breath just mere minutes ago, he can still feel his drying blood under his fingernails. Steve lifts his head and there he is, it's Eddie, no doubt about it. His long hair is tied up in a bun and his eyes are sparkling with worry as he crouches down in front of Steve. It's then that Steve realises Eddie is in full paramedic gear and he's pulling all sorts of things out of a bag to check on Steve.

"Eddie, you're alive." He whispers in disbelief as Eddie checks him for any head injuries. "Where are we? How do we leave?"

Eddie pulls back and there's panic behind his eyes as he slowly helps Steve to his feet and gestures to his partner to grab the stretcher. "Steve, love, I need you to tell me what happened. Why aren't you at work?"

At work? What is Eddie going on about? And did he just call Steve love?!!

"Eddie, this isn't real. I need to leave. I can't stay here with you." He says it slowly so that Eddie understands. He may be some figment of Steve's weird dream imagination and he doesn't want to freak the poor guy out by telling him he's actually dead.

Eddie breathes in and out, his hands a little shaky as he helps Steve onto the ambulance stretcher. His partner helps get Steve set up in the back of the ambulance before they're driving off. Eddie reaches out and holds Steve's hand gently, the gesture surprising but not unwelcome. "Steve, baby, this is very much real life. You're in Hawkins. It's March 21st, 2023. Your name is Steve Harrington, remember?"

"Wait, what?!" Steve tries to sit up but Eddie gently pushes him back down. They hit a bump in the road and Eddie swears softly under his breath about his partner's driving. "It's not 1986?!" He's panicking. He can feel his heart rate spike and his breathing starts to quicken. Eddie tells him to stay calm and just breathe in and out but Steve can't hear him.

Maybe this really isn't Vecna. He'd be dead by now if Vecna had him and Eddie's touch feels too real to be a dream.

Before he knows it, his vision is going spotty and then he's out; the panic and absolute absurdity of it all finally getting to him.

"You'll be okay, Stevie."

Except this isn't the Steve Eddie knows and loves. His Steve, his darling husband, is currently having a dilemma of his own back in 1986.

#HELLO MY SWEET DEAR LOVELY PEOPLE !!#I HAVENT PROOF READ THIS #ENJOY #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #stranger things s4 #steveddie

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simping-for-joe · 1 year

Text

Let Me Steal this Moment From You

Leon Kennedy X reader (soulmate AU)

Part 2

You feel whatever pain your soulmate does, and for the past six years it seems like your soulmate never gets a break

A/N: I haven't seen a soulmate AU for Leon so thought it might be fun to do and I'm cheesy as hell. I also thought about how painful it would be to be anyone from RE's soulmate like this

(Title from the song "Running up that Hill (A Deal with God)" by Kate Bush)

Your soulmate was always someone who got hurt, it seemed like whoever they were they could never stay out of trouble. You got used to it and it was never anything serious until one night. Earlier that night a pain shot up in your back, like almost your back had been slammed against something metal. You decided to go to bed early since the pain was extreme, and it didn't seem to stop.

You shoot up in bed in blinding pain, grasping your shoulder. You screamed out from the shock. Your roommate ran over to you, calling your name but the pain was unbearable almost like you had gotten shot in the shoulder. Tears in your eyes just from the agony of it, your roommate in a complete panic called for an ambulance unsure of what else to do for you. That entire night in the hospital left you in pure pain as your soulmate seemed to be beaten around the entire night.

You thought your soulmate was dead by the time it all settled. You were in just aching pain as you lay in the hospital bed. Your worry consumed your thoughts, worried that something had happened to your soulmate.

"Well... they aren't dead." The doctor suddenly says to you. "You would know if they were, but whatever they just went through was rough." He tells you, looking at a chart. "Seems like it finally settled."

"Is there anything I can do?" You ask worried, and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry... there's nothing."

There wasn't a ton of pain for the next week or so, but suddenly the pain started coming back. Nothing as extreme as that faithful night, but nothing pretty. A lot of times you would end the day feeling beat up, and exhausted. It made you wonder what changed for them, why was there suddenly so much pain in their life. It made you worried, very worried. It turned into six years of your soulmate being beaten around and hurt.

It was a random day in the fall when you suddenly felt a prick in your neck. You stop and look around, your hand going to your neck. Something was happening to your soulmate today. Nothing too crazy, you've had worse, but it was a bit different from the usual.

You were in your kitchen when there was suddenly a pain in your chest and stomach. You ran over to your sink before you spat up blood. Your eyes widened as you looked down at the sink that had a mix of saliva and blood at the bottom.

"What the hell is going on?" You ask yourself worry filling your chest. That pain stuck with you among the other things you were feeling. It was starting to become like that night again, but it was getting so much worse. A feeling of a cut on your thigh, feeling like you’ve been kicked around. It was non-stop pain, and it wasn’t slowing down.

It was the middle of the night when you screamed out in agony, a heavy pain in your chest. It stopped after a few moments, and you managed to call your mother to tell her what was going on. Tears in your eyes as you explained that your soulmate could be dead with the amount of pain you felt. She tells you to stay calm and to take deep breaths. The sensation starts again, and she says she is going to call an ambulance before hanging up. Everything from there is a pure blur as a doctor and nurses struggle to sedate you, unable to do anything else for your pain.

When you wake up the pain is gone, and your mother sits beside you,

"How are we feeling honey?" She asks you kindly, running a hand through your hair.

"Tired... but okay..." You reply softly almost numbly. Still exhausted from the night before. The doctor comes into the room and asks how you're feeling the usual routine.

"It says here you were hospitalized six years ago due to a similar situation." She notes as she looks at her clipboard.

"Yeah... I was..." You nod gently looking at her. The woman sighs as your mother gently runs a hand through your hair still.

"Look... I don't recommend this to just anyone but there's currently a drug doing testing that numbs the sensation we experience from soulmates." She begins to explain to you. "I'm just saying you've been to the hospital twice because of this. Neither time seemed like a small incident, it's just something worth thinking about."

Your mother loved the idea, but you... you didn't know. The pain let you know they were still there. They were still holding on despite everything and all the pain they had been through, you both have been through. If this was six years ago you would have jumped at the chance to never feel that pain again, but now...

"I need some time..." You reply softly.

"That's understandable, here's the information you'll need if you decide you want to do this." The doctor nods understanding and hands you some papers.

Your thoughts were constantly on your soulmate and their pain, it's been quiet since your hospital visit. Just small things, you were glad they were seemingly getting a break. You were always careful when it came to your own pain not wanting to add any more to theirs.

The drugs were constantly on your mind too, even as you shopped at the store. You accidentally bumped into a man, your thoughts elsewhere.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" You quickly say looking at a rather well-built man, he had the bluest eyes you had ever seen. His lips upturned into a friendly smile no longer in a deep frown, but his eyes had heavy bags underneath them. He looked tired, it made you kinda worried for the stranger. Even if you didn't know him.

"It's alright," he brushes it off. His blonde hair swayed with his movement. He goes on with his day and you do too, but you glance back at him for some reason. Like some part of you was telling you to keep talking to him. You ignored it and went to grab your list from your pocket. As you do your thumb gets a cut, causing you to wince out gently. When you do, you hear someone else wince. Your eyes widened and you turned to the blonde stranger. Who was looking at you too, he had winced. Holding out the same thumb you had just cut, he looks you up and down. Like he was trying to process everything that was going on.

You do something you would have never done for anyone else you pull a stranger into a tight embrace.

"I don't know what you've gone through these past six years, but... I'm so sorry... and I wish I could take that pain from you..." You simply say to him pulling him close to you. He says nothing and does nothing for a moment before he hugs you back. Struggling to hold in his tears as he feels the warmest embrace he's felt in a long time.

Your soulmate Leon Kennedy has the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's a good thing you are there to make it a little easier.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #fanfic #x reader #soulmates au #angst #hurt/comfort #no use of y/n #might do a leon version

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stxrrydreamss · 2 years

Text

Aizawa/Hawks/Dabi/Bakugo

They find out you were in a car accident.

Part 1, Part 2

Authors note: This took me a few days to write, so I hope you all enjoy! I even made the gifs myself :)

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.

The night was enveloped in darkness as I navigated my way back home. The rain hammered against my car window, growing in intensity and size, until it obscured my vision completely. I hit the brakes, but my car lost traction and began to hydroplane. Frantically, I pumped the brakes and steered in the opposite direction, hoping to regain control. Suddenly, a black SUV, blinded by the heavy rain, collided with the back of my car, pushing it into the path of an oncoming vehicle. As the impact sent my car into a terrifying spin, I braced for the impending collision. The world turned upside down as my car flipped, and I slipped into unconsciousness upon impact.

Aizawa

Shouta had just finished his shift when he got a call to respond to a three-car accident nearby. He quickly accepted the job and hurried over to the scene. About ten minutes earlier, he had heard the crash, muffled by the rain, but it had still sounded terrible. He never expected to find your car among the vehicles involved. The SUV had pulled over farther down the street, its front end completely wrecked. The red sedan, which had collided with your car, was in even worse shape - its front end was completely gone, and the sides were scraped from flipping over and sliding.

The drivers of both vehicles sustained minimal injuries in the accident. However, you were still trapped in the wreckage of your car, and there was no update on your condition. The road was littered with debris from your vehicle, and the extent of the damage was evident. The roof, front, and back ends of your car were severely caved in from the collision with both a sedan and an SUV. Onlookers could see the shock on the face of a bystander who struggled to contain his emotions as he witnessed the emergency responders working tirelessly in the pouring rain to assist the accident victims.

He was struggling to keep his emotions in check, but he knew he had to remain focused on his responsibilities. After gathering information from the paramedics, he learned that the collision occurred when a black SUV hydroplaned and collided with their car. The driver of the red sedan, who was under the influence and speeding, also failed to avoid the crash. Upon hearing about the red sedan, Shouta's anger flared, but his priority was ensuring your well-being. Leaving the police and paramedics to handle the investigation and care for those involved, Shouta hurried toward your location.

Upon finally laying eyes on the wreckage of your car up close, Shouta swore he stopped breathing. The interior of the car was in disarray, with airbags deployed and debris scattered across the seats. He could even see your blood splattered across the airbags and the interior of the car. The door had been forcefully opened with a tool, and the grimace on his face reflected his distress at the scene. The ambulance had whisked you away not long ago, leaving him in a state of panic. The uncertainty of whether you were alive or not had his mind reeling. All rational thought escaped him as he stood fixated on the scene of the crash. Would they take a deceased person to the hospital? The sound of an officer calling out broke him from his thoughts, and he refocused to exchange information and resolve the situation as quickly as possible, eager to hurry to the hospital.

Hawks

Keigo had finally made it home after a grueling shift. He stood outside, shaking the water from his wings before stepping into the cozy space the two of you shared. Keigo cast his gaze around the house, searching for any sign of your presence, but found that you hadn't returned yet. Despite the concern that crept into his mind, he reassured himself that you were likely just delayed by the traffic compounded by the pouring rain outside.

Keigo let out a tired yawn as he extended his arms in a long, satisfying stretch before making his way to the bedroom. With a sense of relief, he placed his headset and glasses on the dresser next to his bed, then selected a comfortable set of clothes and made his way to the bathroom. After turning on the shower, he peeled off his damp uniform and jacket, feeling the chill of the room against his skin. Stepping into the shower, the contrast of the warm water against his cold skin sent a shiver down his spine, causing his feathers to puff up. As the warmth enveloped him, Keigo couldn't help but relish the sensation, taking a moment to soothe the sore parts of his body before finally proceeding to lather up and wash away the day's exhaustion.

Keigo reached for the bottle of shampoo as the sound of his ringing phone filled the air. He made a note to check it afterward and continued with his hair washing routine. As he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, the phone rang once more, but he chose to ignore it and focus on his shower. Finally done, he reached for a towel after stepping out.

As Keigo finishes showering and begins to dry himself off, he grabs a fresh towel and uses it to gently pat his hair dry. He then picks up his phone from the bathroom and heads back to the bedroom. Keigo unlocks his phone and listens to a voicemail left by someone who had called him earlier. Placing the phone on speaker, he sets it down on the bed and continues to dry off before changing into his sleepwear.

The moment Keigo heard the words "Yuriko Harusa calling from the hospital regarding your fiancé (Y/n) (L/n)" he felt a jolt of panic surge through him. His heart raced as he listened further, his mind unable to process the news. After hearing that (Y/n) had been in a car accident and was currently undergoing surgery, Keigo's sense of urgency was overwhelming. He ended the call abruptly, his movements becoming frenzied as he snatched his keys from the nightstand and sprinted out to his car, his mind racing with worry and fear.

Dabi

Dabi sat quietly in the shelter of your screened-in back patio, patiently awaiting your return. Draped in the throw blanket you had thoughtfully left on the swinging chair, he watched the rain cascading down and listened to the soothing sound of the water flowing from the gutters. As he glanced at his phone, a frown creased his brow. The time displayed on the screen stood out starkly: 10:42 P.M. His cyan eyes darkened with disappointment. It would have been much better if you had arrived an hour earlier.

What might have occurred to you? Were you captured by a villain? Or did a hero intervene and bring you in for interrogation? The foremost question on the villain’s mind was your well-being. With that, he rises from the rocking chair on the veranda, neatly folds the blanket before returning it to its place on the seat, and then pulls his hood up as he steps out of the enclosure and into the pouring rain.

Dabi trudged down the street, his expression twisted in anger as the relentless rain drenched him. After walking for what felt like an eternity, he rounded a corner and abruptly halted, ducking behind the nearest building. The flashing lights of a police car had caught him off guard. Peering cautiously around the corner, his heart sank as he spotted a tow truck hauling away your car. The vehicle dangled precariously above the ground, destined to join two other mangled cars on the truck's lift.

Dabi was taken aback as his eyes widened in shock, feeling a sudden surge of emotions that made him queasy. It was clear that you were not okay, and he regretted not ignoring his initial instincts and waiting outside the building where you worked. The thought of being in the car at that moment made him shudder at the realization that things could have been much worse.

After re-evaluating the situation, it's clear that having him present could have jeopardized your relationship and led to legal consequences for both of you. He evidently prioritized your well-being over his own, evidenced by his willingness to see you injured rather than facing a possible prison sentence due to his reckless actions. As his quirk was triggered by intense emotions of anger, worry, and despair, the burn of Dabi's skin hinted at the depth of his distress. However, the most important thing now is your well-being. Although you were roughed up, the important thing is that you're safe and will be home soon.

As one of the officers patrolled the area, he suddenly heard a strange hissing sound. Intrigued, he turned his head and headed towards the source of the noise. In the dim light, he caught a glimpse of a dark figure vanishing around the corner of a nearby building. Alarmed, he quickly drew his pistol and hurried after the mysterious figure. Rounding the corner, he found himself face to face with an empty, silent street. Perplexed, he scanned the area, trying to make sense of what he had seen. As he lowered his weapon, he noticed a solitary droplet of blood staining the concrete, slowly being washed away.

Bakugo

Bakugo was dealing with a group of powerful villains, one of whom had the ability to control vehicles. Two of the villains had already been captured, leaving only the remaining foe to deal with. As Bakugo prepared to blind the villain with a powerful blast to assist Izuku in capturing him, he suddenly heard a screeching sound followed by a loud crashing noise.

Exclaiming in frustration, he let out a strong shout as he successfully blinded the enemy, creating an opening for Izuku to swiftly employ black whip and restrain the adversary.

Amidst his struggle with the villains, he shouted, 'Can someone check on the civilians!' and swiftly called for reinforcements to take the villains into custody. He also requested ambulances to provide aid to the injured.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," he yelled as he darted towards the direction of the crashes. He quickly made his way to a black SUV and checked on the family inside to make sure they were okay. After that, he rushed over to the man in the red sedan. The man seemed dazed but appeared to be alright, although there was a possibility of a concussion. Katsuki was taken aback to see your car in the midst of the wreckage.

"Baby! Hey!" He shouts at the top of his lungs while dashing as swiftly as possible towards the car. It had overturned, and you were dangling upside down in your seat, unconscious. He rapidly evaluates the scene before touching his headset to inform Izuku of the situation. "Three cars were involved in the accident. There's a black SUV with an apparently unharmed family, a red sedan with a man who may have a concussion, and (Y/n) is unconscious amidst the wreckage of her vehicle," he conveys urgently.

"Is she okay?" Izuku's concerned voice came through the speaker.

Katsuki's voice crackled through his headset, filled with anger and concern. "She better be okay. Otherwise, I will handle that villain myself," he growled. The thought of that damn villain escaping justice and reappearing filled him with fury. The mere possibility of encountering the villain again made him shudder with a violent resolve.

Izuku assured, "I'll take care of everything once these villains are apprehended and removed. You should accompany her to the hospital."

"Hey, come on, baby!" Katsuki cries out as he reaches through the shattered glass to unlock the door and gently unbuckle your seatbelt, catching you in the process. You were cold, and he could see the shock on your face. "Shit," he mutters as he quickly carries you beneath the awning of a building. With urgency, he gently places you down on your back and immediately checks for a pulse. A sense of panic sets in when he realizes that you didn't have one.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Katsuki's voice reverberates through the headset, his eyes brimming with tears, but he fights to keep them from falling. "She doesn't have a pulse!" His urgent cry pierces the air, mingling with the distant wail of police sirens against the backdrop of pouring rain. Without hesitation, he swiftly begins CPR, his every movement charged with a sense of desperate determination.

Katsuki's hands are firmly pressed against your chest as he starts administering chest compressions, then leans over to breathe into your mouth, repeating the sequence with urgency. "Come on. Come on!" He shouts while vigorously compressing your chest once more, then swiftly switches to exhaling air into your mouth again. His heart pounded in his chest with overwhelming fear. The thought of losing you was unbearable. It felt unjust that you were in this situation. The idea of losing you was inconceivable. If only he had been faster, he could have prevented this. Katsuki couldn't keep track of how long he had been repeating the same actions or when his pleas and tears had started. It was all a hazy blur. The ambulance whisked you away, and Izuku had to physically pull him away from you. He struggled against Izuku's restraining black whip as he desperately attempted to reach you. The memory of that moment was blurry as he sat in the living room of Kirishima's house.

Kirishima was seated with his legs apart and his hands clasped between his knees, leaning forward attentively as he observed Katsuki. Sitting next to Kirishima was Izuku, who also had his legs spread and was holding his head in exasperation with both hands. Katsuki sat across from them on the couch, seemingly catatonic, with his narrow, dark eyes fixated on the floor. Izuku had brought Katsuki over to Kirishima's house in an attempt to help him calm down and defuse the tense situation.

Kirishima had hastily welcomed them into his home and handed the two boys towels to dry off. Izuku quickly dried himself, while Katsuki disregarded the towel and flopped down on the couch, unmoving. His mind was consumed with thoughts of when you would return and be held in his arms once more.

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kombuuuu · 1 year

Note

Miles (42) “that’s my baby” Morales.

You weren’t sure what happened.

One second you were running through the field, weaving through opposing team members, watching the ball at your feet and the goal ahead of you. Crowds of people cheering for your team, for your number.

And the next second, a sharp pain was kicked into your foot, and suddenly it could no longer hold your weight. Chin smashing harshly into the ground below you, only thing keeping your teeth from shattering being the mouth guard protecting them. And the crowds no longer cheering — a collective harsh breath being settled into eerie murmuring.

You pushed up by your hands, turning to sit, and the ringing in your ears made way, like an amp being pitched too loud and screaming in protest.

There was blood on you, from where — you couldn’t tell. And the dulled hum of far shouting could be made out through the fog. Cotton stuffed ears straining to understand.

The lights of the stadium were harsh against your eyes, and you tracked the movement of a flashlight the best you could.

A medic was above you, shining brightness over your view to check for concussion. She said something, hurriedly gesturing to your foot. And the pain that came from another medic touching it made you cry out.

You saw the flash of a red card, and a stretcher being pulled towards you.

But most importantly, you saw your boy. Your lover making his way over with a stressed look over his pretty features. Only to be stopped by security. You watched him shove his stadium issued VIP ID card towards them and rush passed the moment allowed to do so.

You were on the stretcher now, being carried toward an ambulance. Your hearing was coming back, the ringing not gone but quietened.

“Stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

You mumbled back, a splutter coming from the blood coating your throat and the mouth guard was gently taken from you.

Please don’t ruin this.

—

“You ever do that shit again, I’m beatin’ your ass.”

You snorted, punching your dads arm lightly in jest.

“Oh yeah? You gonna hurt me cause i’m hurt?”

“I’m gonna make that bastar—“

“She didn’t mean it!”

“It was a red card! Totally purposeful!”

“Nuh uh!”

He laughed, a throaty chuckle infectious to you.

“Don’t you ‘Nuh uh’ me, young lady.”

“Dad!”

A knock played at the door, bringing your attention to the shadow just outside. Your dad beckoned them in, calling to the door with a “Come in.”

Miles stepped inside, bowing his head respectfully to your dad before he made eye contact with you. And the worried shine in his eye was an immediate tell for your dad.

“I’ll give you two space.” He smiled at you softly, patting your shoulder and nodding at Miles as he rounded the door.

It was silent for a moment. Miles staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite make out.

“Miles?”

As if your voice was the beckoning of a siren to the nearest fisherman, he was striding over to you in an instant. Calloused hands guiding your face left and right, examining your injuries and the bruises that coated your soft skin.

You stuttered a quick laugh, watching him fret over you quietly. “It’s not that bad, baby.”

“She did that on purpose.”

The sigh that left you was a fond exasperation. “Miles, she slid.”

“Into you.”

“The ground was wet!”

“Her fault..”

“Wha—!?”

He leant down. Kissing you sweetly, a quick thing — more to shut you up than anything. His love for kissing you was just a bonus.

He spoke against your lips, closed eyes and lovey smile.

“Ya’ tough though.”

You smiled back, a huff of a laugh leaving you, and Miles felt your cheeks warm under his touch.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“That’s my baby.”

#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა #across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles my beloved #miles molares #miles x you #miles morales headcanons #miles morales prowler #miles morales x you #miles g

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avastrasposts · 7 months

Text

A Baker's Dozen**

Ezra part two

Ezra’s chapter finished second in the poll about who should return to the bakery, and it made me so happy. I'd never written Ezra before and he was a challenge! But the story came together well with the help of his language and personality. But it was also sadder than I planned it to be, and I really wanted to revisit him and continue the story. So please enjoy part two!

(I'm editing and posting this in slightly more unconventional circumstances, so please excuse any errors!)

With a sigh you lock the front door of the bakery and flip the ‘Closed’ sign to face outwards. It had been a long weekend, lots of customers, and not all of them very polite. And to make matters worse, your shop assistant, the high schooler who’d worked extra on weekends, had been accepted at the last minute into their first college of choice and this was your first weekend without them. You’re exhausted and looking forward to your day off tomorrow.

The knock on the back door makes you jump just as you turn off the lights in the shop. Cautiously you walk to the back room and stop by the door.

“Hello?”

“It-it’s me, Ezra,” comes a muffled voice in a stutter from the outside, “P-please…I..”

You don’t need to hear more, you rush to the door and unlock it, throwing it open and the man on the other side almost loses his balance, propped up against the door frame. His appearance makes you gasp, reaching out to steady him as he wobbles. The stark blonde patch in his hair is plastered against his forehead, stained with blood from the cut just above his eyebrow, another cut marks his cheekbone, a bruise already blooming around it. From the way he’s curled his arm around his torso, you can tell something’s hurting his chest.

“Ezra, what happened?” you wince, helping him to step through the door, his face twisting in pain as he puts weight on his left foot.

He only grunts in response to your question, inhaling sharply as you carefully try to take his weight.

“Lean on me, let’s get you to the chair, I’ll call an ambulance, it’ll be ok,” you say, making him lean on you as much as you can as he hobbles into the kitchen and sinks down on the chair with a groan.

“No, no ambulance, I am not that badly off,” he says, shaking his head as you pull over the stool on wheels and make him put his injured leg up onto it.

“What happened, Ezra?” you ask again, sinking down to get a better look at him. He’s pale under his golden complexion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

“It’s nothing, no matter, I just need to-,” he says, but even as he says it, he closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose, his hand tightening over his chest.

“Ezra,” you implore again, putting your hand on his uninjured leg, “you’ve turned up, injured and bloody, weeks after you disappeared, and you try to tell me it’s nothing? Do you think I’m that stupid?”

With that he peels his eyes open and looks down at you, and the pain in his eyes almost makes your heart stop.

“Ezra…” you implore again, softer this time, “be honest with me, I want to help, you know that.”

“I’m…I’m ashamed…” he whispers, his eyes falling to your hand on his leg, “you know what I am. I know I left you without explanation last time, after you were so kind to me. And here I am, needing your help again, because I have no one else to turn to.”

“Just tell me what happened, please, Ezra,” you say, “let me help.”

“I…I’ve…some men…” he begins, his eyes still on your hand on his leg, “I’d fallen asleep on the bus stop bench, and some men seemed to take offense,” he looks up at you, and you’re suddenly reminded of the mask Ezra is so skilled at pulling up over his true face, it’s firmly in place now, his hesitancy gone as he picks his words.

“They decided to make me leave by shoving me off the bench, and I twisted my ankle as I fell. When I couldn’t get up they roughed me up, threw me in a dumpster when they were done. I hurt my side trying to get out of it, fell badly when my foot gave up,” he gives you a humorless laugh, “Turns out climbing out of a dumpster with only one good arm and leg is rather tricky.”

“Ezra…that’s terrible, we need to get you to the ER, they need to check your chest, you may have broken ribs,” you make to stand up but his hand comes out and grabs yours before it leaves his leg.

“No, please, no, it’s not necessary,” he says, squeezing your hand, “I just need to clean the cuts and, if you have one, a bandage for my ankle so that I can at least stand on it while I make my way home.”

“You need to get your ribs checked, Ezra,” you reply, not taking a no from him, “and you might need stitches on the cut over your eye, it looks deep. Please,” you add as you see him shake his head again.

“Sweet girl, I can’t, please just let me get cleaned up and I’ll leave, I won’t impose on you again.”

“Ezra, you’re not imposing, except with your stubbornness, I’m taking you to the ER and that’s it. I’m not letting you leave without getting looked at by a professional.” You pull your hand from his and reach for your coat and he gives a forced little chuckle, smiling without mirth, his hand coming up as if to make a dismissive gesture in the air, but you stop him. .

“And don’t try that act with me, Ezra, I spent enough time with you last time to know when you’re lying, either to protect yourself or me.”

His hand falls back down, his shoulders slumping, “Your eagerness to help does you credit, but you don’t understand,” he says as you shrug into your coat.

He’s shaking his head, staring down at his solitary hand, picking at a fleck of blood on his stained pants, and you wait for him to press out the words. His words failing him in a way that is so far from his usual unstoppable stream that it makes you stop and look down at him with even more concern as he continues to pick at the blood.

“I…I simply don’t…I don’t have the…means, I just…can’t pay it,” he stutters, clenching his fist tight, his voice defeated, “I have no insurance…I don’t even have a valid driver’s license, they will not even let me in…” He doesn’t meet your eyes as you move closer to him, but he shakes his head again, his shoulders lifting up to his ears as the tension builds in his body, “No address.”

You sink down in front of the chair, taking his hand, stilling it against his leg, unraveling his fist as he sighs again.

“I’m as homeless as an alley cat, you see, sweet girl. I’m ashamed to say I have nothing, nothing to my name.” His voice is low, eyes downcast, and he doesn’t take your hand even though you wrap your fingers around it.

“I guessed,” you say, your voice low, trying to make him meet your eyes, “But you still need help, and I can take you to the clinic down by the church. They can check you out and get you more help, free if you need it,” you give his hand a squeeze, “Please, Ezra,” you implore, “let me help.”

You sit quietly next to the chair for a few seconds while Ezra seems to fight something inside him, his jaw ticking with the tension. With a small grunt, he finally gives you a short nod, his shoulders sinking down again, “You’re too good for this world, sweet girl,” he mutters, taking your hand properly and letting you help him to his feet.

“Not at all,” you reply, getting him to put his arm over your shoulder as you help him limp to the back door again, “but you’re my friend, and you need help whether you want to accept it or not. And I can be a lot more pigheaded than you.” The last you say with a smile in your voice as you help him down the back stairs. And it gets a small chuckle out of him before he winces at the pain.

You get him to sit in the back seat, his injured leg elevated as he grumbles about getting dirt in your car. Rolling your eyes in response, you strap yourself in and reverse out. Ezra shifts in the back, trying to get comfortable, in the rear view mirror you see him gently touch the cut over his eye that’s still bleeding.

“Would you recognise the men who did it?” you ask, looking back at the road.

“Maybe, but I’m not talking to the police,” Ezra replies, guessing what you’re thinking, “They don’t care about someone like me, I’m more likely to get into trouble for bringing their attention to my lack of address.”

“I was just thinking, maybe they make a habit of it, attacking sleeping people, they should be stopped.”

“Not by me, sweet girl, I don’t have enough fight left in me for that.”

You glance back at Ezra again, he never sounded so defeated the last time you saw him, and now he’s leaning his head against the window, staring into nothing, looking utterly forlorn.

Letting the subject rest, you drive in silence the rest of the short way to the clinic.

A nurse comes over as she spots you and Ezra coming through the door and soon he’s been told to lie back on a stretcher while you hover awkwardly nearby.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” you ask him as the nurse leaves to find the doctor on call for the evening.

“Only if you wish to,” he says, dropping his head back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling, “thank you for escorting me, but it’s not necessary to wait, I can manage on my own now. You should go home.”

“Ezra,” you hiss, keeping your voice low in the open room, only curtains separating his bed from his neighbors, “quit being such a pigheaded martyr, you’re such an idiot.”

His eyes snap to yours when he hears your anger, and you continue, “If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t have opened the door in the first place, and I certainly wouldn’t have cried for a week after you disappeared the last time.”

His eyes widen at this and he opens his mouth to say something but you don’t let him.

“I’m staying. And you’re coming home with me when we’re done here. No arguments, so you can just hold that clever tongue of yours.”

Ezra closes his mouth and opens it again, meeting your glare with astonished eyes as he fumbles for a reply. But before he has time to compose himself, the curtain around the bed is pulled to the side and the doctor appears, followed by the nurse.

Ezra doesn’t protest any more as the doctor treats him. With a small bag of over the counter painkillers in your hand, and a crutch under his one arm, he slowly follows you back to the car without a word. Luckily no fractured rib, but a sprained ankle and a few strips of surgical tape over his two cuts is the tally of the beating, and you’re grateful it’s not worse. You’re even more grateful Ezra found his way back to you for help. You’ll be damned if you’ll let him go back to the streets, even if you have to shackle him to a radiator in your house. Ezra seems to realize this, and doesn’t say anything as you stop at a supermarket on the way home, and return to the car with a toothbrush and various other supplies he might need for his stay with you.

He doesn’t speak until you’ve closed the door behind the both of you and he’s hobbled into your living room. You put the painkillers on the coffee table and turn to help him sink down on the couch.

“Thank you. Truly,” he says, as you put a cushion under his leg, propping it up on the low table.

“Don’t fight it so much next time,” you tell him, “people are nice sometimes.” Straightening up you change the subject as your stomach rumbles, the time for talking is later, “Are you hungry?”

He nods, “Very.”

“I’ve got some leftover pasta sauce and bread, I’ll heat it up for us,” you say, leaving him on the couch. But it doesn’t take long before you hear him hobble after you into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the stools by the island.

“I apologize,” he says, “I was ashamed of showing you how pitiful my life is, both when we met last time, and today. I…I find it hard to accept help, I don’t want to burden anyone with my plight, it was my own foolishness who brought me to this low point. I should carry the consequences of my actions and not burden you with them.”

“Ezra…” you say softly, trying to keep any trace of pity out of your voice, “we all make bad choices, or just have a run of bad luck. Maybe next time I’m the one who needs help, and I hope someone is willing to give it then.”

He nods, but he still looks forlorn and you ache to put your arms around him, but you think he might see it as pity, so you give him a smile, and turn back to the stove.

“You should go back to the couch, Ezra,” you say, “put your leg up again, like the doctor said. I’ll bring you your food.”

“Will you join me on the couch for dinner?” he asks and it’s your turn to nod.

“Of course, I’m starving. Get comfortable, pick something to watch and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

When you return to the living room with two plates, Ezra has propped his leg up again and readily accepts a plate from you. Some nature documentary is playing on the tv and you gratefully sink down on your end of the couch and dig in. Ezra balances his plate on his lap and from the corner of your eye you can see him struggling with twisting the spaghetti onto his fork with his left hand. His eyebrows are pulled together in frustration and the fork clinks angrily against the plate.

You set down your own fork and leave for the kitchen, returning with a tray on legs, for having breakfast in bed.

“Here,” you say, putting it down and placing his plate on it, “Ask for help, Ezra.”

He gives you an indecipherable look, but you just return to your own plate, your attention on the rainforest birds on the tv.

“Thank you,” he says after a minute, looking over at you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, giving him a quick smile that he returns, the first smile you’ve seen from him since he arrived back at the bakery.

The rest of the evening passes in companionable silence for the most part. You want to ask Ezra about where he’s been since you last saw him, how he’s been. You know why he didn’t return to the bakery, the other shop owners on the street certainly made it known that they didn’t trust him, and didn’t want him near. And you see now, even more clearly, how little value even Ezra places on himself.

I have nothing to give to anyone.

That’s what he’d written in his note to you, the day after his first visit. And it echoes in the back of your mind as you go over the events of the evening, stealing looks at Ezra sitting in the other corner of your couch.

He came back to the bakery when he was injured, but it seems even that had been a hard task for him, to ask for help, and then very reluctantly accepting it. He’d told you he lost his arm in a mining accident, but you don’t know if that was the true story or not. But whatever the truth is, you’re starting to understand the strange dark haired man with the odd blonde patch, a little bit better. He must’ve been fiercely independent before he lost his arm, capable, his skill matching his sharp intellect. And strong, if the shape of his wide shoulders and broad back is anything to go by. You can still remember how his muscles flexed and bunched under your exploring hands when he’d kissed you in the kitchen, a strength that hadn’t diminished when he lost his arm.

To lose that independence, and then his home, to be reduced to relying on others for help, even with the simplest things, it could turn any person bitter. And yet, the Ezra you met in the bakery, as wary as you’d been of him at first, had been warm and passionate, tender and gentle even. The mask he’d let slip while you baked together, had revealed a man you could fall in love with, even with the circumstances of his life twisting the person he showed the world.

You give him another look, his strong profile lit by the tv, his chocolate hair and beard longer and scruffier than before, more streaks of gray and the bags under his eyes heavy. But underneath the layers of grime, the stress of his life, he’s still a handsome man, albeit a little bit dirty right now. But that’s a problem for tomorrow you decide.

With a yawn you stretch and get to your feet, picking up the plates.

“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket,” you say, “I left a new toothbrush in the bathroom, and a clean towel.”

“I can’t stay,” he says, predictably, and you ignore him, going back to the kitchen to put the plates in the dishwasher, turning it on before you return to the living room. Ezra is standing by the couch, the crutch under his arm.

“You’re staying, Ezra,” you interrupt him before he can protest, “You’re injured, and quite frankly, you’re dirty. Sleep here tonight, wash up in the morning, and then we’ll see.”

“Sweet girl…I can’t let you…” he begins but you shake your head.

“Do you think so little of me? That you think I’d let anyone, let alone an injured friend, sleep rough on the streets?”

Ezra looks back at your raised eyebrows and challenging look.

“Well?” you ask, “Do you think I’m that kind of friend?”

“No,” he says eventually, a small, exasperated smile, softening his face, “I know you’re not that kind of friend.”

“Good. Toothbrush and towel in the bathroom, go clean up, I’ll make your bed,” you point your finger in the direction of the bathroom and give him a stern look, softened by a crooked smile that Ezra returns.

“Yes, boss,” he says, and hobbles away.

Ezra beds down on the couch and you make sure his leg is propped up by a couple of extra cushions before you retreat to your own bed. You can hear him shifting on the couch, the old thing creaking under his weight, before you drift into sleep.

A loud crash startles you from your dreams hours later, early morning light coming through your curtains, and you shoot up in bed.

“Ezra?” you call out, scrambling out of bed, wrapping your gown around you as you hurry out of your bedroom. You find him by the open front door, cursing silently as he struggles to pick up the crutch from the floor.

“You’re sneaking out,” you state, stopping as you see him straightening up, the crutch still on the floor, his hand on the wall for balance.

“I’m afraid I have to depart, a pressing matter requires my swift attention this morning,” he replies, and oh, the mask is so clearly in place, the polite, apologetic smile, hiding the real man.

“What kind of pressing matter?” you ask, “Let me get dressed and I’ll drive you,” you challenge, crossing your arms and challenging him to just fucking dare to lie to you again.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” he smiles, wider now, even more apologetic, “I must converge with a most disagreeable drifter, a small matter of business I have with him that needs to be settled, I truly do not wish you to meet him. Such a rough, uncouth-”

“Ezra…” you say, your voice a warning, as you bend to pick up the crutch, holding out of his reach. It’s a dirty trick but he won’t get far without it.

“I assure you, sweet girl, I really need to depart, it would not be fortunate for you, or your excellent business, to be seen around town with myself, or this disagreeable man. I can’t bring this misfortune down on you after you’ve treated me with such kindness,” Ezra tilts his head, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes, the ringmaster at work, using his words to bend the audience to follow his ques, to believe his illusion.

You shake your head, and lean the crutch in a corner, away from him.

“You forget, Ezra, that you’ve bared more than you maybe intended to me, and I see what you’re trying to do,” you say, moving around him and closing the front door. “Your smooth lies don’t work on me anymore, I can see that mask you pull up whenever you try to bend me to your will.”

You stop in front of him, and he wavers, the smile, almost a leer, slips from his face. Carefully, as if he’s an animal you don’t want to spook, you bring your hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing across his scruffy beard.

“Ezra…you don’t need to fight so hard. Not with me.”

The mask is gone again, his determination to oppose your will melting away faster this time, and Ezra’s eyes fill with regret as he leans his face into your hand. You seek out his, hanging limp by his side and lace your fingers together, squeezing it lightly as you let him hold on to you for balance.

“I left you a note,” he whispers, “I’m truly grateful, I didn’t want to leave again without explanation.”

“What does it say?”

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, “Same as I said last night, I don’t want to bring you more trouble, I have nothing to give, I don’t want to be a burden. And I know what you’ll say,” he looks up at you as he hears you inhale to berate him, “You don’t think I’m a burden, that I won’t bring you trouble. But I have not lived life honestly, and the people in this community know me as a trickster who cons them. It can only bring you trouble if they see you with me.”

“Have you stolen from them?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not from them, no. But I have stolen in the past, and not only what I needed of food and clothes. And I conned them, used their good hearts against them, they will not pardon me and see me as favorably as you do, sweet girl.”

You caress his cheek again, “Maybe it wasn’t honest, but it’s not like you forced them to give you things, just like you didn’t force me to make you a soufflé. Even though I realize I was probably just a con to you too.”

Ezra drops his eyes from yours at that, looking away as he gives you a small nod.

“It was a con, at first, I have to admit it. I was hoping for a loaf or two of bread, maybe something sweet, but…the soufflé, it wasn’t a con, I promise.” He looks up at you again, your hand has slipped from his cheek, down to his shoulder, he’s so close you can smell the toothpaste and his unwashed clothes, the antiseptic from the bandage on his cheek and forehead. You remain silent to let him continue, to see if his mask comes up again, or if he tells the truth this time.

“I told you that you captivated me, and that’s the truth, I was watching you the first day I came into the shop, you were decorating a cake, your concentration palpable, you were clearly very skilled. And knew if I conned you, I couldn’t come back, so I bought a croissant…and I left.” Ezra gives you a small smile at the memory, “You wouldn’t even know, but that croissant…it bound me to you, it was that perfect. I couldn’t help but keep going back, to watch you work, to taste more of what you’d made. And then you noticed me, and I should’ve left, but it was too late, I had already made a plan to trick you, another kind of trick.”

“What kind of trick, Ezra?” you ask and he gives you the smallest of chuckles.

“The kind that let me spend more time with you, to let me be seen as something else than the sad, homeless drifter my life has turned me into.”

He sighs, letting go of your hand to drag his rough palm over his face, rubbing at his eyes, “I’ve thought since that perhaps it was the worst of ideas, that I tricked myself more than you. I let myself step into a bubble of what could’ve been, if I had been a very different man, build a fantasy in my head where you…never mind,” he cuts himself off, leaning on the wall for balance as you seek out his hand again, “I never conned you, and I wish things were very different.”

“Ezra, I missed you when you left, and I was hurt and confused by your note and what other people said about you,” you say, taking his hand in both of yours, “but I trust you, even if you don’t believe me, I trust you. And I want you to stay, at least until you’re better, please stay this time.”

“But your neighbors, your shop…” he begins and you step forward, pressing your lips to his, silencing him. He holds himself rigid for a beat, before you feel his lips part with a soft hum.

“Fuck ‘em,” you whisper against him, “Please, Ezra, just be selfish with me.”

You don’t let him answer, but you feel his arm move, circle around your waist and you take it as a capitulation as he pulls you a little bit closer.

The kiss doesn’t last long, just a mark to pick up where you left off the last time in the bakery. Instead you pull back from him after a little while, retrieve the crutch and lead him back to the living room. The note, Ezra’s lopsided, left handed scribble on it, sits on the coffee table next to his makeshift bed.

“Do I need to read it?” you ask and he shakes his head, taking the paper and crumpling it.

“No, I’ll stay, at least until you bid me to leave.”

“Not while you limp, you’re stuck with me for a while, con man.” The last part you say with a wink, teasing him, and you’re rewarded by the dimple appearing on his cheek as he smiles, his face transforming.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be stuck, sweet girl,” he winks back.

The morning passes easily, now that he’s decided not to leave as soon as you give him a chance. You make breakfast, stacking the bacon high on his plate, an extra fried egg with the bread and mushrooms, three sausages on the side and a large glass of orange juice.

“Sweet girl, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you stopped me from leaving just to give me a heart attack instead,” Ezra says, eyes bulging as you set the plates down on the coffee table in front of him.

“No offense, but you look like you haven’t been eating that well. Let me spoil you while I can,” you reply, sitting down in front of your own, smaller, serving.

"You’re not mistaken, and no offense taken, it has been a few arduous months,” he says while cutting into the food, humming in satisfaction as the yolk smears the bread. It’s the last you hear from him for a while, the food takes all his attention as he works his way the whole plate, even the extra mushrooms and bacon you slide over. Eventually he leans back, balancing a fresh mug of coffee on his belly, letting out a deep sigh.

“I fear I may burst if I eat another bite,” he huffs, his little tummy expanding as he takes a deep breath, “As usual, you’re too good to me, cream puff.”

“I told you, enough with the baking related pet names,” you laugh, leaning back with your own coffee. “I think we agreed on ‘honey’ last time, but I like ‘sweet girl’ too.”

“Sweet as honey,” Ezra smiles, “such a delectable name for the most captivating of women, for someone with such compassion for the most miserable, unfortunate man. Although…” he tilts his head so that he can look over at where you’re curled up on the couch, “perhaps I’m not so unfortunate, I count myself the luckiest man to have wandered into your particular bakery and then even to be allowed to call you ‘friend’.” His smile is soft, “How did a wretch like me stumble into such fortune?”

“There is that charmer that stole my heart,” you smile back at him, “I’ve missed you, Ezra.”

“I did not want to leave you last time, but you understand now why I told you the illusion had to break?” He puts his mug on the table and takes your hand across the couch as you scooch closer to him.

“I understand, but I hope you know now, that you don’t have to leave, and I don’t want you too… however…” you trail off, as the smell of his unwashed clothes reaches your nose again, “you need to shower, and change…”

Ezra looks down at his clothes and frowns, “I have nothing to change into, but I do agree that these old breeches are somewhat on the smelly side. The rogues that roughed me up made off with my bag and the clothes within.”

“Ezra, you should’ve said, we could’ve bought you something yesterday,” you say, pushing off the couch and going to the hallway closet that holds your winter jackets, “I’ve got an old oversized sweatshirt, a relic from an ex, if you don’t mind?” You hold up the sweater and Ezra shrugs.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, if it fits, I will gladly wear it.”

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash,” you dig deeper in the closet, “these will probably fit, my brother’s old shorts, they’ve got paint stains from when we painted the bedroom, but they’re clean, I promise.”

Ezra accepts the clothes and retreats to the bathroom as you clear up the breakfast. You hear him run a bath, and even the satisfied groan as he sinks into it, making you smile as you load the dishwasher. But the disgruntled growl doesn’t sound good a few minutes later so you gently tap on the closed door.

“You ok, Ezra?” you ask and a grumble floats through the door as something clatters to the floor.

“I find that washing my hair, which it is in dire need of, is impossible with the way this bruise seems determined to burn a hole in my side. I can’t lift my arm high enough. And I only have one of those, as you know.”

“Can I help? Are you decent?”

“Sweet girl, I have no concerns about being decent in front of you,” he huffs, “You’ve already been privy to my very lowest state. Besides, your bubble bath really is very efficient.”

The last thing he says with a chuckle and you open the door. You’re met with Ezra laying back, no, Ezra laying back in resplendence, in your bathtub, all but covered by bubbles and a satisfied grin on his face.

“This bathtub really is a most colossal feature, I feel like I could go for a swim,” he smiles up at you as you bend to pick up the shampoo bottle from the floor.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, it’s half the reason I bought the house,” you say, sinking down behind him, “Can’t believe you got me washing your hair too, Ezra,” you mutter, but there’s no venom and Ezra hears the smile in your voice.

“I’ll repay the favor tenfold once I’m all healed up again, honey,” he says and scoots forward, giving you free access to his dark curls.

He’s like a cat, all but purring as you scrub his hair, letting your nails drag across scalp, rinsing it out once and giving it another wash. As you massage his head he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, you’re certain he’ll start snoring any second, and you gently tap his shoulder for him to sit up for a second rinse.

“Conditioner, sir?” you ask him with a teasing tone, as he moans.

Ezra opens one eye and looks up at you, “Are you mocking me, baker girl?”

“Only your obvious attraction to the skill of my hands, your moans are loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“Oh, I’ve always been attracted to the skill of your hands, in more ways than one, and I’m sure I can think of other uses for them too,” he winks and closes his eye again, leaving you with burning cheeks as his double entendre makes heat rise in your body.

As you rinse the conditioner from his hair you brush it back from his forehead, running your fingers through the blonde patch, stark white now that it’s properly clean. On impulse you bend down and place a kiss to it as you move to get up.

“All done, sir, enjoy the rest of your bath now.”

His hand comes up and grabs your wrist, surprisingly fast for someone right handed using their left, and he pulls you back down.

“Thank you,” he says in a low voice, bringing you close enough for him to reach up and return your kiss, warm lips pressed against yours for a moment.

“Anytime, Ezra,” you reply when he pulls back a little, your voice barely a whisper. You lock eyes for a few seconds, Ezra’s chocolate brown darkening as he rubs his thumb over the thin skin of your wrist.

“Anytime, sweet girl,” he whispers back and lets you go.

You feel unsteady as you leave the bathroom, slowly letting out a long exhale as you go back to the living room, aimlessly tidying, moving three books from one end of the room and back again twice before you realize what you’re doing and give up. Slumping down on the couch you turn back to the nature documentary from last night and try to zone out, but it’s no use. As you hear Ezra come out of the bathroom you shoot up from the couch and head to the kitchen, doing what you always do to calm your mind; bake.

The rest of the day passes without any more heated moments between the two of you. Ezra rests his ankle and you feed him, he complains that he can’t help you in any way, but you shush him and prop an extra cushion under his leg. From the corner of your eye, you see the soft smile he gives you as you turn back to the kitchen.

When it’s time for dinner you join him on the couch for the Great British Bake Off, a show Ezra is well familiar with but he’s missed most of the past seasons so the evening ends with you going back through the seasons and starting over. Before you know it, you’re lying down, your toes tucked in under Ezra’s warm leg while he absentmindedly strokes small circles on your calf. The whole scene is so domestic, he looks calm, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. His whole face transforms as he laughs at the tv, looking over at you to see if you’re laughing too. And you are, but mostly because it feels good to see Ezra so comfortable and content.

When it’s time for bed, you scoot over and kiss his scruffy cheek, smelling your shampoo on him.

“Sleep tight, Ezra,” you mumble, relishing the soft touch of his beard against your lips.

“Sweet dreams, sweet girl,” he mumbles back, giving your leg an extra squeeze, “Do you want me to leave in the morning?”

“Not even a little bit, stay.”

“Then I won’t attempt to slip out unnoticed again,” he says, a crooked little smile at you as you straighten up.

“Please don’t, waking up when something goes bang in the night is not my favorite way of waking up,” you say, “Night, Ezra.”

He does stay, the next day and the next and the one after that. You go back to the bakery on the second day, leaving Ezra sleeping on the couch and come back to find him making dinner, wobbling one foot, chopping a stubborn onion with his left hand. The next day he’s done all the dishes and made your kitchen spotless. You berate him for not resting his ankle but he just shrugs and smiles, his soft southern lilt becoming more pronounced as he tries to charm you into believing that his foot is all better now. When you scold him, he gives you the most insincere puppy eyes, mischief lurking just under the surface until you crack and smack his arm and laugh at him. You almost kiss him, his infectious chuckle, the way his dimple appears as his eyes crinkle. The evenings end like the ones before, tucked in on the couch with The Great British Bake Off, but on the third evening you yawn widely and he pulls you in, his strength no match for yours.

“Rest your weary head on my leg, sweet girl,” he says, putting a cushion propped up against his thigh, “don’t stay so far away.”

You do as he says, and he pulls the quilt down over you and rests his hand on your arm. His slow movements, calloused fingers softly gliding up and down over the quilt, lulls you to sleep and it’s not until Ezra gently shakes you, that you blink awake to the end of the episode, and you stumble to bed after kissing his cheek.

The next day you come home to find Ezra packed up, what little he has, in a plastic bag by the door.

“I reckon I’ve imposed on you long enough, sweet girl,” he says as you question him, “I still limp, but I can walk now.”

“You’re not imposing, Ez, you know that,” you reply, putting down your shopping and stopping in front of him on the couch as he gets to his feet, “I want you to stay for as long as you want.”

He is moving a lot better, you can’t deny that, but the cuts and the bruises are still visible on his cheek and forehead. The bigger bruise on his torso has faded into yellows and greens and doesn’t seem to pain him anymore.

“And besides, where would you go?” you ask. You don’t want to be unkind, but pointing out the obvious flaw in his plan of just leaving seems logical. “Stay here at least until you have a place of your own, you know I won’t let you leave just to sleep in a shelter or in a car.”

“Sweet girl, how long would that endeavor not take me? I have no employment, no money to my name, and without it, I have no choice but to find improvised shelter. And finding a job without an address is not easy, finding a job for a one-armed man? Impossible.” He shakes his head and moves around you, “No, I’d rather leave now, and leave you missing my company than stay and have you tire of my disagreeable old face.”

As he limps towards the front door you feel the slow gears of your brain working until it clicks into place.

“Ezra! I have a job for you!”

He turns and looks back at you, a pitiful smile as he shakes his head.

“Do not make up a job for me. Your kind heart does you credit but I won’t accept any more charity from you, sweet girl.”

“It’s not a made up job, Ezra, I need help at the bakery,” you say, “The high school student who worked extra left for college last week, this weekend was my first without them and I hardly got any baking done. I can’t manage the bakery and the shop at the same time, especially not since I'm going into peak season with weddings and graduations. I need someone to work in the shop and you could do that, even one handed I’m sure.”

“I fear it would not do your business any good to have me at the front of your shop, or do you forget how I conned my way around the last time?” Ezra shakes his head again, turning towards the door to pick up his sad bag of belongings.

“And if there’s anyone who can charm his way back into their good books, it’s you!” you protest, yanking the bag out of his hand. “I need someone who can start tomorrow, someone who understands baking and the things I make, and who is as passionate about it as I am. You’re the perfect fit, Ezra!”

You take a step closer to him, putting your hand on his cheek. You haven’t touched since the kiss in the bathroom, it’s just been a comfortable closeness on the couch. He seems to have been holding back, not wanting to impose another layer of complications to the situation of a homeless man sleeping on your couch. You, on your hand, have been squashing your feelings and urges to touch him, not sure what he feels, if he even wants you close, he seemed so intent on leaving as soon as he could. But now you touch him, stepping over the thin line you’d both drawn, needing him to understand how much you want him to stay, not just for the bakery or out of pity for him.

And Ezra leans his head into your hand as you gently caress his cheek, the scruffy beard soft under your fingers, as he looks down at you, something shifting in him too as you come so close to him he can smell the cinnamon from the bakery in your hair.

“I want you to stay, Ezra. I missed you when you were gone, and I need you, not just in the bakery, but I need you in my life too, if you could let yourself believe that.”

“I’m a selfish man,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rest on your waist, “I’ve been telling myself to not complicate your life, but if you offer it to me, I’ll take it.”

“Please, take it then, Ezra, I’m tired of trying to convince you that you’re worth something more, just take it, you-”

He cuts you off, his hand coming up to your cheek as his lips find yours, pushing you back against the wall with his body as your brain catches up, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers finding purchase in his hair and kissing him back.

You sigh into his mouth when he makes you part your lips, claiming your tongue the same way you remember from the bakery, the feeling you’ve been dreaming about since he left. He groans softly, his hand slipping down from your neck and curling behind your back to hold you even closer.

“Tell me again, I want to hear you say it again, that you want me to stay,” he whispers, pulling back just a little and looking at you with his dark brown eyes, filled with need, darkening with lust as you press your mouth to his lips.

“Pigheaded fool,” you smile, “How many times do I have to say it? I want you to stay.”

His responding groan, his mouth opening to let you taste him, sends a sharp jolt of desire through your body. Turning off all rational parts of your mind, you reach behind you and take his hand, pulling him with you through the house. When lead him into your bedroom he falters, an uncharacteristic shyness, or maybe uncertainty, flashing across his face.

“Sweet girl…” he whispers as you pull him onto the bed, making him tumble over you as he loses his balance, “it’s…been so long.”

“Do you want to, Ezra?” you ask, as he holds himself over you on his one arm.

“Yes, very much, I have dreamed so many nights of taking you to bed,” he breathes, his voice low, laced with both trepidation and lust, “I just never surmised you would ever want me like this, and I’m not sure these old broken bones could ever give you the pleasure you deserve.”

“How about we try out your old broken bones and let me judge how much pleasure they give?” you tease him, running your hands down his back, still as broad and muscular as you remember. He chuckles at that, some of the tension slipping from his face as you continue to stroke his soft shirt, tangling your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck, and then back down to his waist again. He puts his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and you can feel his warm breath over your lips, a slow exhale as he relaxes under your palms.

When you slip your hands under the edge of his shirt and pull it off he hesitates, the stump of his arm has always been hidden by his clothes or the bubbles in the bathtub that one time, now you sense his unease again.

“Do you want to keep your shirt on?” you ask, letting go of the hem and resuming your path up and down his back.

“No, no I want to feel your skin against mine,” he mutters, “I’m just afraid…you might find it…repulsive.”

With gentle hands you take hold of his shirt again and push it up his torso, making him roll over onto his back as you pull it over his head, freeing both his arm and the scarred stump. Ezra watches you with dark eyes, apprehensive in a way you’ve never seen him before, watching your reaction as you lean down and place a soft kiss on the scar tissue that covers the end of his arm.

“I’m sorry you lost it, Ez, but I’m glad you’re still here,” you whisper, placing another kiss on the rough texture before his large, remaining, hand cups the back of your head and guides you up to his mouth, his hot tongue seeking yours.

Now it’s his turn to tug at your shirt and you slip it off, tossing it over the side of the bed, letting your bra go the same way. As you sit up, straddling his narrow hips, the apex of your thighs rubs over the growing hardness in his pants, he growls and grabs your hip, rolling his own up into you. You gasp and Ezra pulls himself upright, his eyes now fully dark, lust blown and all trace of hesitancy gone as he pulls your core down over his cock.

“Sweet girl, I’m determined to make you cry my name until your voice is hoarse,” he says, his voice rough and low with a layer of intensity you’ve never heard from him before, “I really have craved you so many nights, dreamt of having you unfold underneath me, make you moan so prettily in my ear again, like you did when I kissed you before.”

He cups your sex with his hand, bringing the heel down over your sensitive nerves, making you ride it through the denim of your jeans, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His mouth leaves heated, wet marks on your skin when he sucks bruises into your collar bone. Hand moving over the buttons, he peels down the zipper and you feel him slide down inside your pants, fingers meeting flesh as he ignores your underwear.

“What if I can make you cry ‘Ezra’ in that delicious moan, make you pant for me, with just my fingers buried in your cunt?” he growls, hot breath on your skin, “Will that prove me worthy of your devotion?”

“You-you…already a-are…” you gasp, his fingers slipping further down, thumb finding your swollen bundle of nerves, two of his thick fingers sliding deep inside and curling back. You feel him chuckle against your throat when you buck your hips, demanding more.

“Fuck, Ezra…” you moan, head tipping back, his beard scraping over your throat as he sucks another mark into the thin skin of your neck.

“Let me feel you fall, sweet girl,” he mutters, pulling back, his dark eyes finding yours half closed, blissed out, “So beautiful, captivating, my sweet girl.” He looks hungry, greedy, and he surges forward, seeking out your skin again. You feel his teeth nipping on the curve of your jaw as he curves his fingers deep inside you, finding a spot that sends stars through your veins. Your fingers dig into his broad shoulders, leaving fresh marks on his flesh as he brings you closer to the peak.

“My sweet girl,” he purrs, close to your ear, his thumb rubbing tight circles, “come for me, honey, I’ve got you.”

It topples you over, his dark voice tickling your mind into submission, your back arching, pushing down on his fingers as he brings you through it. You cry out his name, pant it into the dim room, and he licks his tongue over your sweat salt skin.

“Ezra…” you croak, dropping your head onto his shoulder as he slowly caresses your slick folds and pulls out, his sticky hand curving around your waist and landing on your back. It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath, Ezra mumbles into your ear, his words wrapping around your brain, trapping them in the haze of your orgasm. When you turn your head and scrape your teeth over the thin skin of his neck, your tongue licking the edge of his ear, his breath hitches, interrupting his torrent of sweet nothings. Against your core you can feel his cock twitch, ignored and aching.

“Take your pants off,” he says, the command soft in his voice, “And take mine off too.”

It doesn’t take long for you to rid the both of you of the rest of your clothes. Ezra hisses as you pull his cock free, letting your hand stroke it, catching the weeping head with the pad of your thumb before you stand up.

“How do you want me, Ezra?” you ask, returning from the bathroom with a condom in your hand. He’s flat on his back, his hand slowly moving up and down his cock as he watches you walk naked across the room.

“On my lap, my symmetry is sorely lacking in balance, I fear I might give you a bloody nose if I was on top,” he smirks, moving himself to sit against the headboard, giving his thighs an invitational pat.

“Just admit it, you’re lazy,” you wink at him, “just want me to do all the work.”

He grabs your hip and pulls you down, his hard length pushed up against the soft swell of your belly, “Oh, sweet girl, if I had both my hands I’d trap you beneath me and not let you leave until you were a quivering mess, begging me to let you come,” he smirks, kissing you hard when you bend your head down to him.

He rolls his hips, giving friction to his cock pressed between you, and you feel him hiss into your mouth, groaning deep in his chest.

You push back and unwrap the condom, slipping it on while he watches your hands with dark eyes. When you rise up on your knees, his fingers dig into your hip, his teeth capturing his bottom lip, biting down hard with a groan as you position yourself. With one hand wrapped around his twitching length, the other on his shoulder for balance, you stroke the head through your slick folds, watching Ezra let go of his lip, an almost animal snarl escaping him.

“My sweet girl, honey…” he pants, opening his mouth to continue, but you sink down over him, squeezing his length, and he groans, a low rumbling pressed up through gritted teeth, head tipped back, eyes closed. You feel him buck his hips, his hand guiding your hip, as he tries to fuck up into you and you hold on to his shoulders with both hands, stroking down over his arms, caressing both his good side and the edge of what remains on the other.

Ezra curls his arm around your waist and pulls you down, bucking up again with another groan. He sits deep inside you, making sparks run through your veins, the feel of him giving you as much pleasure as his graveled groans and panting breath. .

“I’m not going to last,” he mumbles, biting his lip again, “I’m…you feel…f-feel so good.”

You roll your hips over him, your clit rubbing against the dark curls at the base, moaning as he bucks up, rubbing over something electric deep inside. The sight of his face tilted back, eyes half closed in bliss, as his arm sits like a vice around your waist, it brings you to the edge of your own climax much faster than anticipated. Your thighs are protesting, sweat drips down your back, and Ezra claims your mouth again, while you work yourself up and down over his slick cock.

He’s rambling, mumbling into your mouth between licks of his tongue, he’s getting messy, kissing the corner of your mouth, down your jaw, burying his face into the crook of your neck while he grinds against you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he cries out, his body going rigid underneath you, a hoarse shout against your skin and your own climax explodes. You know you’re leaving marks on his skin, but you can’t let go, Ezra is rolling his hips up, pumping himself into you as best he can, pulling you down onto him.

As your muscles relax you feel him loosen his grip on you too, and you drop your head down on his shoulder, caressing his back, his arms, pressing slow kisses into his sweat damp skin.

“My sweet girl,” he mutters, kissing the mark he left on your shoulder, “my sweet, sweet girl,” heavy breaths still making his chest rise and fall as he pants.

You rake your fingers through his damp curls and lift yourself off him, helping him handle the condom and toss it. Ezra stretches out and you curl into his side, sighing deeply and closing your eyes.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch anymore,” you mumble into his chest, and you hear the chuckle rumble under you between deep breaths, still recovering.

“I’m sure we’ll figure out other usages for the couch if you intend to keep this up with my broken old bones,” he says, smiling, his eyes closed as he begins to caress what he can reach of your back.

You both lie in peaceful silence for a little while, your breathing returning to normal, and your bodies cooling down. When the air raises goosebumps on your skin, you pull the covers over you both, and Ezra makes you curl closer to him.

“You really don’t find it repulsive?” he asks after a while, and tilt your head to look up at him, you know what he’s referencing. His dark eyes are turned to you with a questioning look, the smallest hint of worry clouding his forehead.

“No, I really don’t,” you say, moving your hand so that you can caress the scars at the end of his severed arm, “It’s just skin, or proof that you’ve survived something very difficult, why would I find it repulsive? I’m very happy you survived it.

Ezra places his lips on your forehead, kissing you softly while his one good arm pulls you in tighter.

“Thank you.”

“There you go, Mrs Levinson, all set for the weekend, I envy your guests, you sure do spoil your grandchildren! But I know you would spoil me just as well if turned up on your doorstep like a stray dog.”

Ezra gives the elderly lady his warmest smile and a wink, mischief twinkling in his eye as she returns the wink.

“Ezra, you scoundrel,” she giggles, “you know you’re both always very welcome for dinner any day, and I’ll make sure to spoil you rotten.”

“Never would I be so uncouth as to impose such inconvenience on you, Mrs Levinson,” he replies, a hand on his chest in mock shock, “You should come to our house, I’ll cook my famous one armed bandit stew,” he grins and Mrs Levinson giggles again.

“Oh Ezra, you really do brighten my day, you’re such a treasure to have around,” she titters, collecting her shopping bags, “And I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs Levinson, enjoy the rest of your day now, you hear!” he smiles as she gives him a wave and steps out through the front door.

Ezra turns and heads back into the kitchen, where you’re preparing the final batch of millionaire’s shortbread, sprinkling chopped peanuts over the melted chocolate.

“I may have invited Mrs Levinson for dinner,” he says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist, “Said I’d make my stew.”

“I heard,” you reply, “your famous ‘one armed bandit stew’? You’re too much, Ez,” you laugh as Ezra chuckles.

“I did always have a flair for marketing,” he smirks, "maybe we should rename the bakery too, make it official.”

“Make it official that the scandalous baker and her ‘one armed bandit’ are in it for the long haul?” you ask, turning around so that you’re facing him and can see his warm smile as he looks down at you.

“Are we in it for the long haul, my sweet girl?” he replies, bending down to brush the strong curve of his nose across your check, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Well, it’s been two years, and you haven’t tried leaving again, so I think I finally made you realize I want you around,” you mumble as he nudges your head to the side to make better rooms for his kisses.

“You’re stuck with me now, sweet girl,” he mutters, “do you regret it?”

“Not even a little,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into his soft curls and he chuckles.

The bell over the door jingles and Ezra straightens up.

“Go on, Ez, go charm another customer into buying more than they need.”

“Yes, boss,” he smirks, pressing a final quick kiss to your lips before he hurries back into the shop.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, how may I help you on this most beautiful day?”

Part Fifteen

Specifically tagging my Ezra mentor @morallyinept !

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#prospect ezra #ezra x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #ezra fanfiction

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